Arquis made an abrupt, worried sound. His chest went tight with panic. He knelt onto the floor beside them, moved in closer to steady the basket in their lap, and then placed his hand on the small of their back. Sweat had collected there, right at the base of his spine. It’d soaked through their shirt. He didn’t mind. They were in a bad way, and they needed every bit of comfort he could offer.
“Oh, love,” he murmured softly. His hand moved up to their hair, and he ran his fingers through it. The heat of his scalp was anxiety-inducing. It was as if there was a flame trapped under his skin, burning so hotly that it threatened to escape.