Peter ignored the tantrum-throwing brat king. His focus was on Sarah. He'd dealt with his own death before, countless times, and had grown used to the sensations of being dead and reviving since the time he'd revived on the ottoman in his mother's living room, with Claire holding a bloodied piece of glass in her hand.
Sarah hadn't. "I'm okay, Sarah," he said to reassure her. "I heal. I can heal." Even with the awkward holds, he pulled her into his arms, clinging tightly. "I'm okay."