Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
“Healing so many cost her too much.” Magnus soaked the cloth in the bowl of cool, herb-scented water Martha held, then dabbed it across Lyla’s burning hot forehead.
“If I had known…” He clenched his teeth, stopping himself before he said too much to the servant who had yet to win his trust. While he knew Tern would never recommend anyone who would be a danger to himself or the prophesied healer, still, errors in judgment could be made.
And Kcirred was sure to strike in any way possible since Lyla had shattered his most powerful curse.
Magnus and Talon had placed all in the Realm on high alert, and everyone understood the necessity of the edict.
“Lord Darkmist bade me tell ye that the Weavers have been summoned.” Martha set the bowl on the table beside the bed and offered a small crock of an oily, pale pink paste. “For her lips, my chief. So they dinna crack open and bleed while she sleeps.”
With the tiniest dab on the tip of his smallest finger, Magnus struggled to apply the balm to Lyla’s moving mouth.
He had no idea who she spoke with in her feverish dreams, but his precious, dear one had silently chatted at great length ever since tumbling into the deep sleep that refused to release her.
The rapid movements of her lips were impossible to read and match to any words.
Even the Twanes had failed to decipher what she might be saying.
Her mouth moved constantly, and her expression changed, but nothing could be heard.
All Magnus knew for certain was that she didn’t appear to be in any pain, although at times, she seemed frustrated. He found some small comfort in that.
“She nay seems too verra unhappy,” Martha said as she moved around the bed, straightening the covers and freshening the pillows yet again. “At times, she even seems at peace.”
Magnus agreed, but he wanted Lyla awake and at peace. “Pray that the Weavers will know what evil is afoot here.” He wrung out the cloth again in the cool, scented water and draped it across his dear one’s forehead.
A light tapping on the bedchamber door made Martha scramble across the room to answer it.
After a few low murmurings that Magnus couldn’t quite make out, the maid turned and called across the room, “Ipsillian brings word of Thornpitch, and Hellys has come to stand at our lady’s bedside and guard her.
I told them ye nay wished to be disturbed or pulled from our lady. ”
“No. I trust them, and I would hear what Ipsillian has to say. Stand aside, Martha.” Slowly rising from the chair beside his dear one’s bed, Magnus leaned down and pressed another kiss to his yet-to-be-united-with-him fated mate.
Currently, that worried him just as much as her strange ailment.
He feared that if the fourteen days and nights passed without the binding vow spoken between them, the Highland Veil, or the Weavers, or maybe even feckin’ hell itself, would rip Lyla away and send her back to her plane of origin—a place where he could never follow other than to pass through to Seven Cairns and pray to catch a glimpse of her.
“I will be just outside the door, my love,” he told her with a gentle squeeze of her hand.
“Come back to me, Lyla,” he said even softer, “my world is nothing without ye.” He longed to lose himself in the soothing blue of her eyes and the comforting warmth of her smile.
He needed her awake and whole again, needed her to return so they might complete their joining and reunite their souls.
Reluctantly, he stepped away from the bed, loath to leave her presence and entrust her care to anyone else.
Hellys bowed to him as they passed in the middle of the room: him heading toward the solar to speak with Ipsillian, and her to take her post at Lyla’s bedside. But just after passing him, she halted, turned, and lifted her muzzle higher, sniffing the air. “Mighty chief!”
“Aye?”
She eased closer, her glistening nostrils flexing with every huffing intake of air. “Forgive me, my chief, but I distinctly smell venenum.”
“What?” Magnus scanned the room, searching for anything amiss.
The poisonous herb, native to the vile Kcirred's Thornpitch, was a weapon the evil druid’s spies often used.
Difficult to detect until it was too late, it was an effective tool of warfare.
Hellys had interrogated every spy they had ever captured.
She would know if it was present. “Where? Find it.”
Hellys stared at him, the black elongated pupils of her great golden eyes flexing as she leaned closer and sniffed again. “It is on yerself, mighty chief.”
Magnus stretched out his arms, spreading his fingers as he widened his stance. “Find it on me. Now.”
She drew so close that the heat of the coals simmering in her gullet washed across him. He didn’t care. If somehow, someone had planted venenum on him in an effort to poison Lyla, he wanted it found and destroyed.
As she passed her nose across his right hand, she reared back, opening her mouth in a disgusted sneer and growling. “This hand. It is on yer hand.”
Magnus stared at his hand. A slow, dangerous rage grew within him as he lifted his gaze to Martha. Hugging an armload of linens to her chest, the maid had backed away from the bed and was edging toward the door to the bathing solar. “Seize her. Now.”
Hellys lashed her tail around the servant and whipped her back across the room, dumping her in front of Magnus.
“I had to, mighty chief,” Martha cried out. “Forgive me, but I had to.”
Magnus grabbed her by the hair and dragged her closer to the bed. “Where is it? Where is the poison?”
Sobbing, the girl clutched her hands to her chest. “I canna tell ye. He will kill my brother.”
With a hard shake, Magnus fought the urge to snap the maid’s neck. “Ye would do far better to worry about yerself right now. Now, where is it? Tell me or die.”
Hellys pushed closer, running her muzzle over the table holding the crocks of herbs and water. She tapped a claw in front of the paste Magnus had spread upon Lyla’s lips. “There.” She passed her nose over the bowl of water used to cool Lyla’s brow. “And here.”
Magnus lifted Martha from the floor by her hair and shoved her in front of Hellys. “Has she any more on her?”
The dragon sniffed her, then drew back and growled. “She reeks of it.”
“Interrogate her with every method at yer disposal. I want every bit of information out of her.” He threw the girl to the floor and spat upon her. “Ye will be put to death for this.”
Sobbing uncontrollably, Martha buried her face in her hands. “I had to, mighty chief. Kcirred has my brother.”
“Ye’re a damn fool,” Hellys roared. “Kcirred only keeps his prisoners alive long enough to suck out their souls and drink their blood.” She wrapped her tail around the maid and went to the door.
“Ipsillian, we have a traitor in our midst.” She slung Martha out of the room.
“Our chief wants a full interrogation. I must stay and ensure all the venenum is purged.”
“I will send Tern and Inuk.” Ipsillian scooped up the girl in his mighty claws. He curled back his leathery lips and gnashed his teeth. “This shames me. Forgive us, great chief.” With a sad lowering of his head, he took the prisoner away.
“She shamed us all.” Magnus shook with the need to rip the treacherous maid to shreds, but he stopped himself. He had to clear away the poison before it did further damage to Lyla. “Help me find all of it, Hellys. We must cleanse our lady’s room.”
The dragon went to the long cabinet of pitchers, bowls, and crocks and sniffed them.
“These things appear to be clean.” She took one of the bowls, lifted it to her face, and wept, filling it with precious, healing dragon tears.
“Wherever the poison touched her, wash her with this. Ipsillian’s blood oath has helped her fight it thus far.
We can only pray that it continues while we purge the venenum from her system. ”
Magnus bathed Lyla’s face with the dragon tears and scrubbed her mouth until not a bit of the balm remained on her lips.
Her tender flesh tore a bit and started bleeding, but at least the poisonous paste was gone.
“Forgive me, my love. Please forgive me.” He soaked the cloth in the dragon tears and pressed it to her bleeding lips, noting with some small sense of relief that she had stopped her feverish conversation.
Her mouth no longer moved with silent words. He prayed that was a good thing.
Hellys took the tainted bowl of herb water and the crock of paste, tossed them out the window, and annihilated them with an explosion of flame. Anything with the slightest scent of venenum upon it, she did the same. Cleansing the place with the purity of fire.
Magnus scooped Lyla up into his arms and held her. “Check the bed. That traitor may have sprinkled that noxious herb among the bedclothes.”
Tern and Inuk entered the room, heads lowered and submissive. Albionna and Talia followed.
“Albionna shall serve yer lady,” Talia said quietly. “She has served me many a year and can be trusted.”
“I will take the best care of yer lady, mighty chief,” the Selkie maid said.
“The bed is tainted,” Hellys said from the other side of the room.
“Burn it.” Still holding Lyla clutched to his chest, Magnus turned to go to his solar.
“Check the dressing room, the bathing solar, everything. Anything that bears the stench, purge it.” He ached to throw his head back and roar his fury to the winds.
“Burn the entire floor, if need be. I trust yer judgment.”