He puts all he has left into that kiss, as if he could rally his blood all to his face, his lips, his copper-tinted breath, and impart it to her as a blessing. And then he's bleeding, bleeding like he did last Arena, from the throat, and it's all so fast that he doesn't even have time to suffer before he blacks out. His body goes limp, his face wan, his blue eyes glassy as polished stone.

He wakes up, later, in a bed that he finds entirely too wide and cold without her.