Sundered

by Bethany Adams

  “When I spoke to him last night, he wasn’t himself. He said he hated his weakness.” Kai’s hands clenched at the memory. “But I thought his mood had eased by the time we parted.”

  Merrith’s brows rose. “He acted much more careless than usual. I told him to wait for guards, but he would not.”

  “He did send for Kai,” Arlyn said, her expression tightening as she glanced at her father. “If we hadn’t been delayed, the outcome might have been different.”

  Kai took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Maybe. But he’s not usually so reckless. And he just found another soulbonded. Why would he—” His gaze fell on Meli, and his words choked off at her pained expression. Had something happened between her and Lyr? “Well, he hasn’t been himself.”

  Meli let out a gasp as pain speared her heart. Had Lyr almost gotten himself killed because she’d rejected him? Surely not. He’d only met her a few days before, and there was nothing about her to create that sort of response. But the weight of grief shading his eyes even when he smiled and the hollow, hopeless look he’d given her as he’d spoken with the ambassador? Meli’s hands twisted together. No, her rejection certainly hadn’t helped his mood.

  She found herself standing above his head. The healer and his assistant blocked her view of the wound, but the pallor of Lyr’s face shook her. Meli didn’t know him, not really. But she did. She ached with the need to see his eyes open again. Would they have the answers she sought? As she’d wandered up the hillside to find him, she hadn’t been herself. Emotions had tangled within her—a mix of love and fear that made no sense in such a short time.

  Giving in to the urge, Meli stroked her hand through the spill of his dark brown hair. Just before she’d cast the runes, she’d wished to find the best way forward. They had lead her straight to Lyr.

  It doesn’t mean we’re meant to be together. Then she sighed as the truth of that caught in her heart. Lyr was a powerful lord. He would never want the liability of mating with an Unfavorable One. However he was supposed to help her move forward, it wouldn’t involve love.

  Fingers aching from her grip on her walking staff, Lynia heaved herself to her feet and bit back a groan at the quick movement. Torture. Each drip of the clock had been torture as the others had searched for Lyr. All Lynia had been able to do was sit—sit and ache, inside and out. As his energy had been born and nurtured in her womb, so they were connected, and she knew when he felt true distress. His pain resounded in her own bones. Had it been this agonizing for him when she lay dying on the library floor? Gods, she hoped not.

  But the agony of waiting was nothing compared to the heart-stopping burn in her chest as the door opened and Elan, Lial’s assistant, entered with Lyr magically suspended on a carry-board behind him. Lynia cried out when she saw the angry, newly sewn gash across her son’s chest and stomach. What had led him to be so reckless? She shoved a hand across her mouth as the horror of it washed over her. Not her son. Please, Gods, not Lyr.

  Lial entered behind the carry-board and then paused in the threshold to order the others to remain outside. His pallor alarmed her almost as much as Lyr’s. How much energy had the healer expended already? But he didn’t waver as he shut the door firmly behind him and helped Elan settle Lyr in the bed. That cursed bed. She’d spent more hours healing there than she wanted to count.

  By the time she made her fumbling way over, Lial had settled into a chair and entered another healing trance, his magic surrounding Lyr. Lynia sank down next to her son and rested her brow against his. Not even the shrieking pain in her back could stop her as she gave him what energy she could. Whatever he needed.

  “Lynia,” Lial said, his voice rough with exhaustion. “Lyni, stop.”

  She didn’t bother opening her eyes. “I won’t let him die.”

  “He won’t.” She felt the soft pressure of Lial’s hand around her wrist. “I healed the worst of it in the village. This is just for strength. For a faster recovery.”

  Lynia tilted her head so she could meet the healer’s eyes. “If I can give him my strength—”

  “Stop,” Lial whispered. “This isn’t your fault. You know he wouldn’t want you to do this.”

  “I should have talked to him.” She let out a hiss of pain as she straightened, but she pushed the agony of movement aside. After all these weeks, it had become a near-constant companion, anyway. “I knew he was upset about what happened, but I thought he needed time. I should have forced the issue.”

  Lial cupped her cheek, and a hint of his power flowed from his fingers to soothe her aching muscles. “As should I. I’m his healer.”

  “And I’m his mother,” Lynia said, swatting his hand away. “Save your power for him.”

  The healer stiffened. Pain and anger shifted in his gaze, and she worried that he’d taken her action as a personal rejection. But before she could reassure Lial, he turned back to Lyr and fell into another healing trance without saying a word. Clechtan. Lynia pressed her fist against her chest and bit back a sigh. She really hadn’t meant that the way he’d seemed to take it, though in truth, she wasn’t certain what she wanted to do about Lial.

  He might be in love with her, but she had no idea how she felt. Lyr’s father, Telien, had been her world. Her soulbonded. How could she consider another, even after twenty-two years? Was the draw she felt toward the healer worth the risk of pain? Of another loss? Lynia’s shoulders slumped. A month since she’d guessed Lial’s feelings and she still had no idea what to do.

  Elan moved away from Lyr’s other side and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Allow me to get you a chair, Lady Lynia. Lial is certain to slip me an unpleasant potion if I let you injure yourself further.”

  She snorted at that, knowing as well as Elan that the healer’s threats were mostly bluff. Mostly, of course, being the key, since one never quite knew with Lial. To spare Elan’s stomach—and her own back—she allowed him to help her to her feet and settled herself into the chair he brought. Then waited. And waited.

  By the time Lial pulled away again, dawn chased the edges of the sky. Lynia swayed in her seat with pain and exhaustion, but she’d refused Elan’s suggestion to seek her bed. Not until she heard from the healer himself that Lyr would be okay. She’d seen the gash on her son’s chest ease into a deep, red scar, but that wasn’t enough. She needed the words more than breath.

  “He’ll truly live?” she whispered when Lial looked up.

  The healer nodded. “He will be weak, but yes.”

  Lynia sagged with the relief of it, and tears welled in her eyes. “Thank you. And I’m sorry for earlier. I—”

  “Don’t,” Lial snapped. Then he ran a hand across his face and gave a weary smile. “Forgive my ill humor. I am exhausted beyond telling.” He stood, swaying for a moment as he stared down at her. “You were bonded, Lynia. I understand. I always have.”

  Her heart lurched as he stumbled away and then climbed the stairs to his room. What could she say? Part of her wanted to call him back, but the other part wanted to run. She struggled to her feet with a wry grimace. Running wasn’t in her immediate future. Wincing, she waved off Elan and waited for the agony in her back to ease before hobbling across the room.

  Lynia slipped into the quiet of morning’s twilight. Then she let out a muffled yelp as a hand closed around her arm. She spun around, almost falling with the movement, only to meet Lial’s eyes.

  “What…?” She frowned at him. “I thought you were sleeping. Go rest before you collapse from lack of energy.”

  His lips tipped up in a smirk. “And let you get hurt stumbling back to the house? I’d just have to use more magic healing you.”

  “Fine,” she muttered, though she let him tuck her arm in his.

  She really didn’t know what she was going to do about him.

  Chapter 16

  Light glared into his eyes, and Lyr threw his arm across his face to block the glow. Where was he? The afterlife? A pleasant place, if so. He was cradled on some soft surface, wa
rmth bathing his face. The scent of herbs flowed around him, and he relaxed into the feeling it brought. But the smell tickled his memory, and when the truth hit, he groaned.

  The healer’s workroom.

  With a sigh, he moved his arm and opened his eyes, squinting against the burst of light. Almost immediately, his face fell into shadow, and he blinked against the sudden shift. A person stood above him. Was it… “Aimee?”

  The figure jerked back with a gasp. “No.”

  Lyr rubbed his face and struggled to a sitting position, a more difficult task than it should have been. When his eyes finally focused, he found himself looking at Meli. He winced. “Forgive me. No doubt it was the feel of the bond that confused me.”

  Her smile was slight and somehow sad. “I should find it an honor to be mistaken for someone so loved.”

  What could he say to that? Lyr would never forget Aimee—would never want to—but he didn’t want to hurt Meli, either. With a helpless shrug, he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what—”

  “Lyrnis Dianore!”

  He flinched, his senses so dull he hadn’t even noticed the healer’s presence. Behind Meli, Lial rushed over from his workbench, and Lyr’s gaze caught on the table where his last wound had been healed. At least he wasn’t there again. “You sound like my father, Lial.”

  The healer scowled down at him. “If he were here, I imagine he’d sound much worse.”

  “Why am I…”

  Before he finished the question, the memories rushed back. The battle in the clearing. His injury. Blood pooling beneath him in the dark. A quiver passed through him at the thought of that hopeless dark. He’d tried to convert the iron in his wound so he could gather the energy to escape, but he’d passed out before he could succeed. How had they found him?

  “Why are you alive? Here? Foolish?” Lial snapped, eyes flashing.

  Lyr had never seen the healer so angry—a feat considering Lial’s general surliness. Lyr sat up as straight as his wavering muscles could manage and swallowed back embarrassment at his weakness. A few paces away, Meli stared at him with wide eyes. Did she think less of him now that she’d seen him at his worst? She’d rejected him with less cause.

  “Do you have some explanation for this?” Lial demanded.

  Lyr’s brows rose. “Watch your tone.”

  “When you watch your suicidal decisions.” Lial pushed him back down, taking no care to be gentle. “Do you know what it’s like to heal someone so close to death? You were a few breaths away, my friend.”

  That close? Lyr’s body went cold at the thought, and the tension that had begun to build at the healer’s anger slipped away. How could he begrudge another’s worry for him? “I’m sorry. Truly. I should have waited for Kai. But all I could see was a quick resolution to this mess. I thought I could take the assassin unaware and find the source of it all.” His gaze slid from Lial’s. “Besides, I’m no longer indispensable. Kai is more than capable of helping Arlyn with estate—”

  “You thought to leave an inexperienced girl from Earth in charge of negotiations between the Sidhe and the Ljósálfar?” Lial barked. Then—worse—his voice fell soft and frigid. “That’s almost cruel.”

  The truth of that stole Lyr’s breath. Had he died the night before, poor Arlyn would have been left with an even greater mess. None of the other fae races would be inclined to deal with an heir so newly established, much less a half-blood one. The Ljósálfar could fall to their own pride, but people like the Neorans relied on his help. Arlyn was far from ready to take over.

  “You’re right,” Lyr whispered. “I am foolish beyond compare.”

  “Now that you’ve regained some sense, let me see how you’re healing.”

  Lyr closed his eyes and let the energy pour through him. His body was so heavy with exhaustion that sitting up had sapped him, but he couldn’t relax. Not with Meli lingering by the window, her attention focused on him. He shifted uncomfortably and tried to think about something else. There was a great deal he needed to get done. For one thing, the mages for Neor would be arriving today.

  At least he hoped it was today. How long had he been unconscious?

  “Aside from lingering weakness caused by blood loss, you’re remarkably well,” Lial said as the blue glow faded from his hands. “I guess you should have kept that jar as decoration after all. I certainly could have used it last night.”

  Lyr bit out a laugh at the reminder of his last healing. “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

  “It had better be a few centuries from now,” Lial muttered. He looked over his shoulder at Meli. “If not for Lady Ameliar, you’d not have that chance.”

  “Meli?”

  She stood in front of the window, washed in light. Her blond hair gleamed as white as her robe, the cloth made nearly transparent by the glow. Without thought, his body hardened. If she were wearing one of the thin summer dresses favored by Moranaian women, the sight would have been even more spectacular. Perhaps he should speak with Telia, the head seamstress. That long-sleeved robe was surely stifling Meli, and—

  “Lyr.” Lial snapped his fingers. “Mind hearing the tale?”

  The healer’s smirk brought a flush to Lyr’s face. He hadn’t been caught so brashly appraising a female since he was thirty years of age. “Yes, of course.”

  “Kai and Arlyn were wandering the hillside and having no luck finding where you’d gone when Lady Ameliar appeared out of nowhere. She said something about a green line and knowing how to find you. Certain enough, she led them right to you. You were completely invisible to the eye.”

  The lady in question turned from the window—a shame, that—and walked over. “It wasn’t me. It was the runes.”

  Both men looked at the pouch she tugged from her belt. The word was familiar to Lyr, but he had no true understanding of what she meant. “Runes?”

  She opened the pouch and poured the contents into her hand. The nine smooth stones were beautiful, but they hardly provided an explanation. “These. See the patterns? Somehow when I ask a question, they show me an answer, a path. I followed them through the mists, too.”

  Lyr frowned and shook his head. “They appear blank.”

  “Blank? But…” Meli gave them a scowl of her own. “I suppose Pol enchanted them for me, then. I thought the others saw the patterns in the mists.”

  “If the runes came from him, there’s no telling what anyone else saw,” Lyr said wryly.

  She blushed, an interesting contrast to her pale hair. “I should not have taken them, but he insisted. It seemed even less wise to refuse.”

  “Indeed.”

  They settled into a sudden, awkward silence, the healer smirking at them both. Lyr sat up once more and was about to turn so he could stand, but at the smooth slide of cloth against flesh, he glanced down. He was completely naked under the blanket. He shot Lial a look that had the healer chuckling.

  “The wound went down to your stomach, assuredly easier to treat without clothes. Rest easy, though—I waited until we’d brought you back from the village to strip you.” Lial walked to the staircase leading up to his quarters. “I’ll see if I can find something to fit you so you don’t scandalize the lady. You never know about the Ljósálfar.”

  This time Meli’s flush was one of anger. “My people are not so prudish as that, nor am I some innocent maiden, despite my age. Do you take me for a human miss from times long past?”

  “Forgive me, milady.” Lial shrugged. “If it’s no bother to her, then come. It will be easier to find something with you there to try it on.”

  Lyr was too tired to do anything but take her at her word, and he needed to get back to work before the mages arrived, if they hadn’t already. Recovery time was a luxury he didn’t have. Though his every muscle protested against it, he shifted his feet to the floor and paused, gathering his energy. With a deep exhale, he pushed himself to standing and then wavered there for a shocked moment. Gods, he was weak. But he wouldn’t let himself crum
ple in front of Meli.

  Closing his eyes, Lyr pulled in energy from around him, and the gentle support of Eradisel flowed through, strengthening him. He straightened and then opened his eyes to find Meli staring. She’d flushed red, but she couldn’t seem to tear her heated gaze from his body. A groan slipped free as he began to harden again. He cut his eyes away and sought control before he embarrassed them both.

  Where was his reserve?

  Lyr gritted his teeth and staggered to the staircase. Her gaze burned into him as he shuffled forward, and a spark of pride lit beneath his embarrassment. At least she could no longer deny her attraction to him. Whatever held her back, it certainly wasn’t that. A slow smile slid across his lips as he reached the stairs. She did feel the same pull.

  He turned back to her at a sudden thought. “Meli? Why were you using the runes to look for me?”

  Meli picked at the sleeve of her robe. “I—I wasn’t. Not at first. I was practicing in the garden when your mother sensed you missing. It just happened. I just had to go.”

  Lyr nodded, though he suspected there was more that she hadn’t told him. “Then I thank you.”

  When Lyr finally disappeared up the staircase, Meli found her breath once more. She only had herself to blame for falling for the healer’s needling. Although it was true she was no innocent and nudity was not taboo in Alfheim, her heart could have done without the sight of Lyr naked. By Freyr, he was gorgeous. Every warrior inch of him. She tried to block the image from her mind, but it was probably burned there forever.

  Meli’s fight for control wasn’t won within herself but by Arlyn’s arrival. Her eyes went directly to the bed and widened when she found it empty. “Lial said my father was awake,” Arlyn said. “Where is he? Is he okay?”

  “He is well.” Meli gestured toward the staircase and hoped devoutly that her red cheeks weren’t too noticeable. “He went up with the healer to find some clothes.”