Zande sat by Jacob's side, by the edge of the table of healing soil, her fingers intertwined with his cold, unmoving hand.
He had been on the healing table for eighteen hours now, buried in rich, sacred soil that was supposed to aid in the recovery of his memories. The ancient process was a last resort, one he had finally agreed to two days ago. Now, she watched him with growing dread, her heart heavy with fear and uncertainty.
Had she made the right choice?
Was knowing the identity of Olivera important?
Should they have let it slide?
She shook her head. This had been the last resort. And they needed to know who Olivera was. It was the last piece of the puzzle.
The healer, Kendalf, had told them that the soil, imbued with powerful herbs and ancient magic, would help Jacob reconnect with his past. And so her lifemate had sunk into the soil with a sense of determination and hope, but since then, he hadn't woken up.