by Lisa Kumar
Talion’s arms tightened around Maggie as his son dashed through the crowd of people. Most parted willingly enough, so Relian reached the door in good time. Two of the royal guards followed Relian, while the other two stood watch over him and Maggie. Talion ignored them.
Not too many minutes had passed before his son returned with Avrin. Talion’s body slumped with relief, but he steadied himself.
Avrin took one look at Maggie and said, “Quick, lay her down.”
Talion turned and started to lower her to the bed but froze halfway down. Eamon lay there still, and he didn’t want the snake—unconscious or not—to be so near to Maggie.
Relian apparently recognized his hesitance because he unceremoniously pushed Eamon off the bed, where he fell with a satisfying thud. His son glowered down at the form on the floor before he glanced to the royal guards. “One of you take out this garbage. Make sure he’s held for trial.”
Talion placed her gently on the bed and pushed the hair back from her face. With a sigh, he sat down on the edge of the bed near her right side.
Avrin dug around a bag that he’d been carrying, withdrawing a vial that contained a type of hand cleanser. He glanced at Relian. “Have them empty the room of everyone except us and two of the royal guard.”
As the guards herded nearly everyone out of the room, Avrin took Maggie’s vitals and then sanitized his hands. Pulling the tattered remains of her dress away from the wound, he examined the laceration. His brow furrowed, and his lips tugged downward into a frown.
Talion’s heart leapt to his throat, but he swallowed it down. “How serious is it?”
“Serious enough.” Avrin paused. “Did you— Never mind, time for that later. Her left lung has a good size tear in it. It’s collapsing, and I have to remove the air from the chest cavity by way of a needle and syringe before her other lung is compromised.”
Talion took a shuddering breath, words failing him for a second. Exhaling slowly, he gathered himself. “Do you have the supplies necessary to do that here?”
Avrin nodded without bothering to look up. “Collapsed lungs are a fairly common injury among soldiers in battle.” He withdrew a roll of bandages. “After I irrigate the wound, this is to seal off the laceration. This type of bandage has a special coating to make it airtight yet flexible. I can tape it down on three sides, which allows air to escape from the wound, but not to go in. Depending on the severity of the lung puncture and whether it allows air into her pleural cavity as her lung expands again, I might have to make an incision between her ribs to sew the tear. But first, I’ll place her in a healing sleep. We don’t want her waking up while I’m working on her.”
“What’s her prognosis?” Talion forced the question past the stranglehold of his vocal cords.
“If all goes as I think it will, she should be fine.”
Should be? He nearly growled. It had to be more than should be. No other outcome was acceptable.
He held Maggie’s hand. Relian and the guards faded into the background. Talion’s gaze centered on her face. Though he’d been in countless battles and witnessed all sorts of bloodshed, he couldn’t bear to watch her procedure. How much time had passed? He didn’t have a clue. Only Maggie existed.
“It is done.”
Talion jerked his head up sharply to stare at Avrin, who stood wiping his hands on a towel.
“Now we wait to see if her lung continues to expand. So far, it looks promising, and air doesn’t seem to be filling the pleural cavity.”
Talion’s wild heartbeat settled a notch, even as he tightened his grip on her hand. Hope shoved out some of the dark shadows inhabiting his mind. When he examined her beloved face, those shadows withdrew ever further. Her labored breathing had abated, and color had seeped back into her cheeks and lips.
“When can she be moved?” He wanted her home, where he could see to her properly. Still, he’d remain here with her if Avrin deemed it necessary.
“If there are no setbacks, she can be moved by cart tonight or tomorrow morning. I’d rather have her back at the palace, where I have everything readily available.”
Fear gnawed at Talion. “What problems do you foresee?”
“Besides the issues I’ve already mentioned, there are some concerns about infection. And….” Avrin’s gaze shifted to Relian and the guards. “I have words of a personal nature to share with the king, so could you please wait outside.”
“Relian can stay.” Talion attempted to control the tremor in his voice but failed miserably. His son came to stand behind him, his presence radiating comfort.
Once the guards had left, Avrin turned to them both. “Talion, did you know Maggie is with child?”
Chapter 26
Avrin’s words bounced around in Talion’s dazed head, their meaning somehow new and foreign to him. What had Avrin said? Surely, he hadn’t…. One look at his friend showed that Avrin was completely serious. Talion’s chest constricted, yet seemed full to bursting. He stood without thinking.
Maggie. With child. His child. He stared at her stomach. It looked no different, but then, what did he expect?
Unabashed joy and terrible dread clashed in his heart. He wanted this baby, but would Maggie? And with her injuries, was the little one in any distress?
He couldn’t find the answer to the first question, but determination to discover the second one filled him. “Is the babe fine?”
“So far, all appears well on that front.”
The air whooshed out of Talion’s lungs, and his limbs trembled. By Eria’s veil, thank goodness for that.
“Congratulations, Father.”
Talion’s gaze flew to Relian. He’d forgotten his son was even in the room. What would Relian’s reaction be? Though apparent surprise widened his eyes, genuine warmth shone from them. So Talion would get no protests from his son?
His son…. Those words hit home in a new way. Would his unborn child be another son? Or a little girl with Maggie’s spitfire attitude? He couldn’t wait to find out, but it would all be revealed in due time.
“Don’t put aside all your worries, though. Infection is always a concern in such matters as these, and since she’s human, she’s particularly susceptible to developing a nasty one.”
Talion’s excitement for the future died as fear stole his breath. He could still lose her—and the baby. So he did something he rarely did. He prayed—to her God and his, though they were one and the same. Only the name differed.
Avrin’s words had foreshadowed the agonizing truth. By midevening, fever took hold of Maggie’s body, and Avrin worked without fail to keep it at a safe level.
Sitting on a chair near the bed, Talion leaned over and smoothed the damp hair from Maggie’s forehead. With shaking fingers, he applied a cold compress to her skin. Crimson stained her cheeks. Though her flush almost hid the bruise popping out against her cheek, the cut slicing across its surface was another matter. But in comparison to the wound in her side, it was a trifling thing. Death hovered over the bed like a specter waiting to grab the two precious lives that meant everything to him.
Relian stood behind him, many times offering a comforting hand. To Talion’s shame, more often than not, he found himself shaking off his son’s touch until Relian retreated to the other side of the room.
Guilt urged him to apologize, but his mouth refused to form the words. He brought Maggie’s hand up to his mouth, caressing the soft skin with his lips. Would this be one of the last times he touched her this way?
Her fingers twitched, and he startled. Could the fever be breaking? But a look showed no change. When he checked Maggie’s temperature, the warmth of her body told him that the infection still possessed her.
He buried his head in his arms on the bed beside her, wishing this were all some sort of nightmare. It wasn’t, though, no matter how much he wished it.
“No…” Maggie said hoarsely.
Talion jerked upright.
Maggie’s head thrashed around on the pillow. “Love�
�Talion. Save…death.”
Joy bubbled up amongst some of the sadness gripping Talion. Could she mean she loved him? Even if she did, it wouldn’t matter, not if she died.
If she knew what she was saying, she’d be furious. Maggie had to survive so he could tease her about it. How glorious she’d be in that anger. He’d welcome it with open arms.
He framed her face in his hands. “You have to survive. I want to see the fire in your eyes when you tell me you hate me, that you love me.”
Her movements quieted, but she didn’t awake.
Throughout the night, Talion stayed by Maggie’s side—as if by the strength of his will alone, he could heal her. Fickle hope would vanish, only to rush back at the least expected moments. Like ocean waves rolling over stone, it wore him down and tried to snatch his last scrap of sanity. Only her mumbled words kept him grounded.
Something stuck in his mind. As if by the strength of his will alone, he could heal her. Maybe he could. He found her affection invigorating, so why would she find his love any different?
There certainly was nothing to lose by attempting to establish a direct connection. He rubbed his nose and winced. Even though Avrin had set the bone, it still ached into his cheeks.
Ignoring the discomfort, he closed weary eyes and searched for their bond. Once he had it firmly locked into his mind, he followed it to her. Only hazy pain and a restless drifting feeling met his probe. Licking his lips, he forced all his love for her though the link. His devotion battered against the barrier that pain and unconsciousness had caused.
Her trashing stopped. He opened his eyes and drank in her beloved face. She stirred, but didn’t awaken. No, she didn’t awaken, but thank the Green Mountains above, she fell into a deep sleep.
His shoulders slumped. Some intuition told him she’d be fine, so he let the toll of the last hours catch up to him. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks, and he rested his head on the bed again.
***
When Maggie surfaced to consciousness, the first thing that hit her was pain. She burned with it, especially her side. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, so she didn’t bother to open them. She groaned, and the sound came out rusty. Even her throat hurt.
What had happened? Why did she feel like death warmed over? Her wonky brain refused to tell her anything of importance. It was there at the edge of her mind.
She scrunched up her nose, trying to recall whatever memory was niggling at her. Damned if she knew, but it was important. She was sure of that.
As she tentatively moved her fingers, she found something held tight to her right hand. Someone must be gripping it. That, or her hand was in a cast.
She concentrated on opening her eyes. After a bit of a fight, her lids popped open.
Familiar sage-colored walls surrounded her. Talion’s bedroom. Judging by the light in the room, it was early evening, the sun just setting. She turned her head on the pillows and froze.
Talion rested on the bed beside her, his hand holding hers.
She wet her dry lips. He looked so young and unguarded—and tired. The lines etched around his eyes and mouth seemed deeper than usual. The area around his nose looked a little puffy and discolored. What had happened? Why was he in bed at this time of day? Why was she? Stupid question. Given the pain racking her body, she could guess why she was. That bastard Eamon had stabbed—
She gasped. Everything came storming back. All of it. Her kidnapping, meeting Andrian, Talion’s arrival at the caves, her cutting the orb from— Gah, no. Finishing that last thought was too disgusting. So she focused on the positive—that Talion seemed okay.
All her muscles protested, but she worked through it and sat up. Her head swam for a moment, and agony lanced her side. She took a few deep breaths until both subsided a bit.
Talion stirred. Good, he was waking up. She needed to talk to him and find out what had happened.
Maggie poked him in the chest, and his eyes fluttered open. “Get up, sunshine,” she said, though it came out more like a croak than anything else.
He stared at her incomprehensibly. Then his eyes widened and he bolted up beside her, releasing her hand. “You’re awake!”
If she hadn’t been in so much— Hey, whom was she kidding? She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the update stating the obvious.”
Though his face appeared far paler than what she was used to, his smile blinded her. “I see you’re well on your way to recovery,” he said. His good humor died. “How do you feel?”
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the effect his grin had on her. “Yeah, about that—how long was I out?”
“Four days. Four long days.”
“Really?” She gestured to her body. “So what’s the damage?”
“You had a collapsed lung from being stabbed in the side. The rest of your injuries were mild—some bruises, a few shallow cuts.” As he described her wounds, his lips tightened, and anger sparked in his eyes.
His anger on her behalf caused warmth to flood her chest. Maybe Aistiane was right, and he did love her. “How’s my lung now, and why does my side ache so much?”
“Your lung is quickly gaining normal function, and the tear seems to be repairing itself. Avrin said the whole process can take up to a month or more, but that you should feel no ill effects once everything’s healed.” He stopped, and his jaw clenched again. “The stab wound is slower to heal because of the infection that set in.”
“It’s gone now?”
He nodded. “But it slowed down the healing process.”
“How long do I have to stay in bed?”
“At least a couple more days.”
She sighed. “That’s what I thought. Though I don’t feel like running any sprints right now, I think I’m going to get sore from being in bed for that long. Not to mention bored.”
“I’m sure we can arrange for you to sit in a chair for an hour or so”—He sent her a disapproving look—“since that’s practically what you’re doing now. Cal can also visit you, and I’ll try to be at your side as much as I can.” Seeing her questioning glance, he continued, “I’m afraid I’ve neglected the kingdom for the last five days. Relian and some of my other trusted advisors have been overseeing everything for me.”
While a little disappointment had trickled through her, she understood why he couldn’t stick by her side for the next few days. “What happened to Eamon?”
His face darkened. “He’s in the dungeon, awaiting trial.”
“You’re seeking the death sentence for him?”
“I am. And since he nearly killed you, my governing lords and ladies shouldn’t put up a huge protest.”
Maggie had mixed emotions about killing Eamon. Needless death was never good, but some people couldn’t be redeemed. He’d not only proven himself an enemy to her, but to Talion and the kingdom itself. “He also would’ve killed you,” she said.
“There is that.”
Silence blanketed the room. Maggie peeked through her lashes at him. He appeared to be staring ahead, but she swore he stole sideway glances every so often. Her nerves wound tighter and tighter. She needed to say something to him, but how? Just blurt out she loved him? What if he laughed in her face?
No, he wouldn’t do that, even if he didn’t love her. She never wanted to look the fool, though. If he loved her, why couldn’t he say it first?
She sighed and turned her head toward him. “Talion—”
“Maggie—”
Great, they both wanted to talk at the same time. She cleared her throat. “You go first.”
He slanted her a considering look. “No, ladies first.”
Grr, she didn’t want to. “That’s quite alright. Kings take precedence.”
He laughed, and the rich sound slid down her spine like a warm caress. “Since when does me being a king mean anything to you?” he asked.
“It always meant something. Something I wanted to avoid.”
He gazed at her with an understanding in his eyes that shook her
. “You cannot avoid it any longer,” he said.
What—what couldn’t she avoid? Her position or admitting her love for him? Or both? Because she’d been thinking of both.
“I know I can’t avoid taking up my official role. I’m still not crazy about—”
“No, Maggie, that’s not what I’m talking about.”
She gulped. Damn, what did he know?
“I know how you feel about me. In your delirium you were quite…enlightening. I also learned much that happened during your captivity.”
Relief and embarrassment flushed her face. Shit, what had she said? She could well guess. At least it had already been said. God, would he want her to say it again?
She almost laughed at her silliness. If they were going to be married for the rest of their lives, she’d have to get used to admitting she loved him. If she told him at least once or twice every year and multiplied that amount by next-to-forever, she’d be saying she loved him a whole lot of times.
“So…so you know I love you, huh?” She paused and forced herself to ask nonchalantly, “How do you feel about me?”
He raised a brow. “How do you think I feel?”
Damn, not this guessing game. “Well, I know you like and care for me. I can feel it through the bond. You protect—”
Talion chuckled ruefully and shook his head. “Maggie, it’s so much more than mere liking and caring. Didn’t you know that?”
Not really. “I—I guess so.”
He angled himself so he faced her. Cupping her face in his hands, he gazed deep into her eyes. “I love you. From the moment you stepped into my life, I knew there’d be something between us.”
Her heart soared to her throat. He leaned forward, and she met him. Their lips touched in a gentle kiss, one that promised much more once she was healed. Just thinking about it caused heat to kindle in her lower regions.
She drew away first, and his hands dropped to her shoulders. Guess the time has come to say it back. “I love you, too, even when you’re being a jerk. Which is often.”
“Is that so?”
