Lyra sat in the uncomfortable chair, looking at Dale’s recumbent form guiltily. The doctor had cleared her a couple of hours ago, telling her that she shouldn’t perform any magic for the next couple of days, and to return if her symptoms got any worse. She had been about to leave the hospital when she’d heard two of the nurses talking about the strange creatures that the Royal Guard had brought in, which was an answer to her unasked questions about the doctor’s unkempt appearance and why he was making rounds in the middle of the night. As soon as she’d found out what room he was in, Lyra had rushed to Dale’s bedside.