The words fell like a blade.
Briella stifled a sob, clapping both hands over her mouth. One of the healers stepped back, all color draining from their face. The Marchioness remained standing but her fingers trembled violently where they rested over Liv's hand.
Liv herself was half-conscious. Her eyes fluttered open, her lips dry, her breathing shallow and uneven. She heard the words she understood.
"No…" she whispered weakly. "I'm… still here…"
Ingira lowered herself, bringing her face close to Liv's. "I know. And because of that…" she drew a deep breath, "…I'm going to do something we were never meant to do."
She turned toward the table of instruments.
"Surgery."
The room fell utterly silent.
One of the medical staff jolted. "You can't!" they blurted. "We tried before no needle, no scalpel could pierce it! Her skin no, not skin it's like a living barrier!"
"We almost lost two healers to the magical backlash," another added, voice shaking. "That would be suicide."
