by S. D. Grimm
He looked at her and opened his mouth. Love and fear poured into her. “I imagine we’re not done losing those we love.”
She breathed out and it was painful. Her death. Morgan had seen her death. She touched Ethan’s knee and stood. “I’ll be right back.”
She marched over to Morgan’s tent, trying to quell coming tears, and Richard—Morgan’s betrothed—stopped her. “Jayden?”
“May I please speak with Morgan?’
He let her pass. She entered the tent and stood in the doorway, hands fisted, trembling. “Did you tell Ethan about my death?”
Morgan’s eyes opened wide. “No.”
No.
The word echoed in her hollow, empty thoughts.
Not, I know nothing about your death.
Not, what death?
Just no. Simple. Plain. Inevitable. Jayden’s knees weakened and she sat down. Her elbows dug into her thighs, and she cupped her face in her hands. “You’ve seen it?” Her fingers muffled her shaking words, and she looked at Morgan over them.
She sat across from Jayden, eyes round and sad. “You’re young. You look as you do now. The ground is cracked and black and snow falls around you. There’s blood dripping from your hairline.” Morgan traced an invisible mark on her face. “Your eyes are open and your chest doesn’t move. There’s a charred and gaping hole in your abdomen.”
Jayden couldn’t breathe.
She gasped and it squeaked.
Her chest hurt.
Her thoughts hurt.
Her heart screamed in agony.
She sniffed, trying to hold everything inside. Winter was still months away. Months. “Is it set in stone?” Her voice only wavered slightly.
Morgan looked as if she was about to deliver bad news. “It’s a vision I see frequently. I was merely telling Ethan that he shouldn’t wait to tell those he loves how he feels.”
Jayden swallowed and her throat ached. He’d already told her. “I suppose you could say that to everyone.” Tears escaped.
“Yes.” Morgan touched Jayden’s hand. “Richard outlives me.”
She blinked away tears and sniffed. “Does he know?”
“No. I think he should be allowed to feel the way he wants just like everyone else. If I tell him, he would try to die for me. I can’t allow that. I wouldn’t wish seeing your own death on anyone.”
Jayden wiped away more tears. “Then why tell me?”
“You asked. And your knowing doesn’t change a thing.” She sat with Jayden in silence for a few moments. Then she touched Jayden’s arm and stood. “Take as much time as you need here.” She exited the tent.
Jayden buried her face in her hands, but no more tears would come. She was too hollow for tears. Ethan would love her no matter what, and letting him made her stronger. It was time for her to embrace that truth. And to soak up as much of his love as she could. He deserved to know exactly how she felt. That she wanted to live with him forever.
She fisted her hands and stood. Then, just as she resolved to go out and tell him, screams rent the night.
Chapter 18
A Dragon in Its Lair
Ryan woke from fitful sleep as the door to the dungeon scraped
open. Everything hurt too much for him to even lift his head. Stale breeze carried the scent of lavender. Belladonna. Ryan’s insides squeezed. “Getting started early today?” The rasp in his voice surprised him.
Footsteps drew closer—she’d brought her guard, of course—and Belladonna crouched into view. The smell of pears joined the lavender. Mock pity shone in her eyes. “If you learned faster, we wouldn’t have to continue with this charade, pet.”
She stood, but he just lay there, staring at four sets of boots. A clicking sound followed by metal screeching told him she’d opened his cell door.
Half of him shuddered. The other half hoped she’d brought water.
Or that she’d heal him.
The threat of coming tears burned his eyes. If she wanted him to beg for healing, he would. He’d grovel. He’d do anything.
A tear slid over the bridge of his nose, and he hated himself for it. For wanting her healing. For not being stronger.
She knelt beside him and stroked his hair. “You look terrible, pet. Will you let me heal you today?”
“Do I have a choice?” He hoped his voice sounded harsh.
“You always do. But how was your night without it?” She reached for him and he closed his eyes. Audibly sighed. Then cursed himself for his willingness.
A dark laugh escaped her. “You do want my healing. Don’t you?”
He was supposed to pretend to be broken. Problem was, he wasn’t sure how much of it was an act. “Please.”
“What was that, pet?”
He swallowed the ache in his throat. “Please heal me. I’ll do anything you ask.”
“I bet you would. I feel your pain.”
He looked up at her. “Y-you do?”
“It’s a Healer’s curse.”
Ryan flexed his broken hand, and Belladonna winced. Maybe she was telling the truth.
“Don’t get me wrong.” Belladonna trailed a finger along his forearm. “I like that you are strong.”
Strong? He laughed. There was no holding that in. Apparently this Healer could lie.
She arched an eyebrow. “You don’t think tough women like strong men?”
“What do you want from me?”
“Loyalty. Fealty. Love.”
Never. “And you’ll heal me?” Why did he have to sound so weak?
Her finger trailed down his left arm to his hand. “I actually take your wounds when I heal you. I experience it as if it’s my own pain. Then I heal it.” She picked up his left hand, and he braced in fear. This crazy woman could offer relief or more pain, and he was never sure what to expect. She looked at him, pity in her eyes that he wanted to spit at. “Pet, I came here today to heal you if . . .” her dark eyes scanned him. “If you pledge to me your love.”
“I pledge it.”
She smiled. Her face contorted into a grimace as all the pain ebbed away in his hand. “How you stand the torture I cannot fathom. I’ve broken other men more quickly than you.” She dropped his hand and trailed her fingers up his arm. “You are stronger than anyone I know.” Her hand stopped at the top of his shoulder. “You don’t let your emotions show your weaknesses.”
Right. He turned away from her, his face scrunching up. Tears heated his eyes, but he held them in. As soon as she left his prison at night, she missed her amazing strong man whimpering on the floor of a cage. Strong.
A lie.
Her fingers glided over his back like feathers and every whisper of a touch scorched him. “I can make the hurt go away.”
“At a cost to yourself?” His words sounded strangled.
“Yes. But it is worth it, no?” She slammed her hands against his back and he gasped.
Warmth pulsed through him. He released a shaky breath. Cooling followed. The pain started to ebb away. Yes. Yes, it was worth it. Tears choked him and some dripped out of his eyes. He’d lost. He’d let her win. He wasn’t strong enough. Ryan, you weak fool. She’s playing you. And winning.
Was that his own voice?
Her other hand stroked his cheek. He hurried to wipe away any trace of tears. Gently she pulled him to face her. “It is worth it, isn’t it?”
He closed his eyes, unwilling to answer her, and sat up. The skin on his back felt tight, as if scars remained. But there was no more pain. He looked into her dark eyes. What had he promised for this?
She laughed. “Of course it is.” She pressed her palm against his chest. “Because you can either love my healing—which is my gift to you for your loyalty, fealty, and love—or you can hate it. But if you hate it, I can only assume you love this.”
Pain shot through him like a dozen arrows. His back ripped open, his chest burned. He fell to the ground, curled into a ball, breaking connection with her hand, but nothing stopped the pain. The sound
of his screaming thundered in his ears.
“Only I can stop it.”
“Belladonna . . . p-please . . . make it s-stop.”
“That’s right.” She knelt next to him and smoothed his hair.
It stopped.
He was free of it. All of it. She’d healed everything. Panting on the floor of his cell, he crawled closer to her. He rested his head on her boot. “Th-thank you.”
“Thank you, for recognizing my power. I so hate to see you writhing like that.” She touched under his chin. “Stand. We’ve got to make you presentable.”
For what?
Belladonna narrowed her eyes. “Stand up.”
Ryan scrambled to his feet.
“That’s better.” Her lips slid into a smile. “No torture today. No more torture, unless you step out of line.”
No torture? Ryan’s knees weakened. Could she be telling him the truth? He feared asking in case she changed her mind.
She placed her hands on the sides of his face. “I hate to see those I love go through torture. And I love you.”
Love? His insides churned and he felt sick. How was this love? What was her game now?
The strange pear smell grew stronger as she drew nearer to him. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. He tried to pull away, surprised by her sudden advance.
She was taking his kiss.
The kiss he was saving.
The one he was so sure would be amazing after having been cured from the . . . venom. Venom? What venom? The taste of pear overwhelmed him. Her tongue teased him, parted his lips. He wrapped his arms around her. This was definitely worth waiting for. Could she have been any more . . . her teeth nibbled him. Wait. He shook his head. His stomach roiled and he pushed away from her. Pain throbbed in his temples. This woman was evil. Why was he—?
She pulled him closer, pressed her lips harder against his. Pear exploded on his tongue.
Clouded his thoughts.
Made him feel numb.
She let him go and stepped back licking her lips. “You’re good, pet.”
Good? He’d show her good. Ryan smiled and leaned one arm on the cell bars. She giggled. She was beautiful. How had he never seen it? “You like it?” He grinned. “Because there’s more.”
She pressed her finger to his lips. “More later. Right now I’ve got to get you upstairs.”
The room started spinning. Ryan bent over and pressed his hands against his head.
“Uh-oh. Feeling a little dizzy?” Belladonna grabbed his shoulders and propped him up. “I got you, pet.” Her warm arms curled around him and she touched his face.
He started at her through narrowed eyes. Perhaps she did love him.
He loved her.
Chapter 19
What Friends Do
As soon as Franco left him—after another pat on the back—
Connor ripped the ring off his finger and placed it on his dresser. His stomach roiled and the pulsing pain in his head, left from that tainted metal, started to recede. He really needed to talk to Luc.
Oh no. A surge of his power shot through his veins, and he clutched the sides of his dresser. He wouldn’t look in the mirror in case red eyes stared back.
His powers tried to emerge daily now. With more vengeance than he’d ever felt. He wouldn’t be able to contain them forever. Time was running out.
Heat.
Skin.
Heat.
Fur.
He held it together and clutched the dresser ledge tighter until the wave passed through him. Maybe tonight he’d venture into the woods and let out a wave of power. Hopefully he could keep it in until then.
He still needed to find a way to help Madison.
“Must you always forget that some of us are willing to help you?”
That voice was a welcome comfort. Connor smiled as he breathed in a deep, cleansing breath. “Cliffdiver, I cannot guarantee your safety.”
“I’m a gryphon, master. I live for adventure. Besides, I can think of no nobler cause than helping you.”
Connor chuckled. “Dear friend, please stop calling me ‘master.’ I would be honored to have your help.”
“You have it.”
A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts, and Connor answered it. “Madison? Are you all right?”
She held up a book. “I found this in Franco’s room.”
Connor stepped aside for her to enter. She rushed to the table in the center of his room and laid the book on it, opening it. “We already know that in order to kill Franco it has to be a beheading with a Wielder-crafted weapon. I don’t know where to get one of those, but—”
“I do.”
She blinked and looked at him. “Of course.”
He nodded. “Luc. The smithy. I know he has some. I gave them to him for safe keeping.”
“Well, that’s wonderful news!” She bit her lip. “It might be the only wonderful news.” She turned back to the book, and Connor joined her at the table. Her finger followed the words as she summarized them. “. . . and the head must be burned. But the willing sacrifice will die, unless another agrees to take her place.”
He grabbed Madison’s arms. “No. I’m not letting you die for Kara. She—”
“No, that’s not my plan.” She smiled.
Connor released her and crossed his arms. “Madison, have you been plotting without me?”
“It only seemed fair. That’s what you’re doing all the time you spend alone, isn’t it?”
No. He was out in the woods releasing spurts of his power and trying not to kill anyone.
Her smile softened. “Do you have any friends?”
“Two.”
“Me and one other person?”
A small laugh escaped his throat as he looked at the book on the table. “I—three then.”
“You weren’t counting me as your friend?”
“I thought you meant besides you.”
That appeased the mock-hurt look on her face. “Good. Then you should know I’m a trained warrior. I plan to kill Franco and then bring Kara back to life.”
That stunned him speechless.
She laughed. “Healers have the ability to bring someone back to life.”
“Haven’t you already done that for her?”
“Only because of a spell. That was evil and dark. When I brought her back, a piece of her stayed dead. It’s not a way to live, Connor. I need to restore that. Heal her. It’s my mission.”
“Kara’s not here.”
“I’m bound to her now. I can find her. And she draws closer daily.”
Connor tilted his head. “You came to me for help?” No one ever came to him for help. The thought that she trusted him enough warmed his soul.
“That’s what friends do.”
“I will help you kill Franco, Madison.” In fact, he was sure he’d do anything for her, and that was why having friends was so dangerous for someone like him. Someone who could accidentally kill them.
“Thank you. Now about that weapon?”
“Let’s go see Luc. I have another favor to ask him anyway.”
Her cheeks colored bright red. “To-together?”
“Unless you’d rather go alone?”
“No!”
He chuckled. “I think you should start sparring with him. It’ll keep both of you sharp.”
“Really?” She stood now, hugging her stomach as if she were a shy girl being told to ask a young man to dance. “Why?”
“Because when I break out of here, I’m taking the two of you with me.” He smiled. “I’ve got a secret entrance to show you.”
She followed him down to the underground floor and outside to the smithy. The closer they got, the more nervous she seemed. Just outside the door she paused. Connor smiled and motioned for her to pass through the doorway first.
“I’ll be right with you.” Luc’s voice rose above the sound of metal hammering metal. The clanking stopped. “Oh. Hello.”
Co
nnor followed her in and smiled at the way Luc stood there, holding a red hot sword. He’d known these two would hit it off. It had probably spurred the lie he’d told Franco about the two of them being involved. That and he wanted to know how the king would feel about his Healer being with another man. The bracer had done its job. Franco hadn’t cared a bit. “Luc.”
“Connor. Is . . . oh . . . are you with him?”
“Madison is a friend.”
Luc finally put down the sword and his hammer. “Oh. Good. Um . . . I have something for you.”
Connor smiled. “I was hoping.”
“The ring?” Madison asked.
Luc’s eyebrows darted up behind his bangs. “She knows?”
“Luc, meet Madison.”
“How do you do?” He jumped forward and took her hand in his, then he kissed the back, but winced at his black fingers.
“It’s very nice to meet you.” She smiled and dipped her head.
Connor felt the urge to duck out and leave the two of them alone. He also felt the urge to laugh. Instead, he helped himself to what looked like Luc’s forgotten lunch. The apple hadn’t even been touched. Connor bit in.
“Right.” Luc dropped her hand and pulled out a small drawstring pouch. He gave it to Connor. “It’s the perfect duplicate.”
Connor fished one ring from the pouch and the other from his pocket. Side-by-side they looked identical. “Amazing.”
“You think it’ll pass?”
“Absolutely.” Connor handed Luc the real ring. “You’ll wear this later when we train the soldiers?”
Luc nodded. “If you still wish it of me.”
“Luc, I—”
“I’m willing to help you, Connor.”
“Doesn’t he listen to you, either?” Madison said. They both turned toward her, and she beamed. “I keep telling him the same thing. I want to help. It’s what friends do.”
Luc chuckled. “See, Connor, I’ve been telling you the same thing.”
Apparently he’d have to defend himself. “I know. It’s just—”
“You won’t ask for help.” Luc narrowed his eyes.
Connor had nothing to say to that, but tried to think of something anyway.
Now a grin joined Luc’s slitted eyes. “But you have no problem helping yourself to my lunch.”
