Chapter 12 #2
Talon stood in the doorway. Sadness, fury, and sympathy rolled off him in waves.
“The seventh floor shall now be the private chambers of our chief, and they shall be made perfect and whole within three heartbeats of a dragon.” He fixed a stony look upon Tern and Inuk.
“Make it so and know if another traitorous servant gets close to our lady, the spy will not be the only one placed on a spike with their entrails ripped from their bellies, ye ken?”
Both Tern and Inuk nodded, then rushed from the room.
“Assist them,” Talia told Albionna. “Watch all who are with them as well. We shall care for our lady until ye have the floor prepared.”
Albionna hurried after the housekeeper and the steward.
“I shall take her to the tower until the chambers are ready.” Magnus paused, closed his eyes, and uttered, “Tutum.” When he opened his eyes, he stood in the tower where the Scale of Rurik sat upon its pedestal.
Talon and Talia materialized beside him and lit the braziers lining the circular room. Talia produced a fine golden weave and draped it around Lyla and Magnus. “This fleece is pure and healing,” she said, “and only cleansed in dragon tears.”
“Thank the mighty Draig for Ipsillian’s blood oath,” Talon said as he circled the room, his tail twitching restlessly. “If not for that…”
“Dinna say it.” Magnus knew very well what could have happened if Lyla hadn’t been exposed to the sacred purity of dragon’s blood. It was even more powerful and healing than their tears.
The fortress shook with the force of Hellys’s fierce cleansing of the third floor.
“Will ye punish Tern and Inuk?” Talia asked Magnus while pointing a claw at Talon, then jabbing it at the floor while mouthing, “Stop pacing.”
He glared at her but did as she asked.
“No. Not this time,” Magnus told her. “I believe their regret will be punishment enough.” Both Tern and Inuk had served for countless hectrooms and nothing like this had ever happened before.
“Albionna has a sister who is most devoted and trustworthy,” Talia said. “Perhaps I shall try her as my new maid, and Albionna can stay with our lady. She seems quite fond of her, which is rare for a Selkie.”
Magnus didn’t care, as long as no one ever endangered his Lyla ever again.
Another explosion shook the place, followed by the sound of shattering glass.
“We may have to build a new fortress.” Talon stretched his long neck out of one of the arched windows and looked downward. “Flames are shooting from the third-floor balconies and the roof of yer solar below. It appears that feckin’ maid infected everything.”
“Well then, perhaps her punishment should be burial alive in a coffin of venenum.” Magnus gently rocked back and forth while pacing as though Lyla were a restless babe trying to sleep.
She still burned hot with fever and occasionally shuddered.
He kept close to the braziers since the windows of the tower were simple arches open to the winds, and the late autumn gusts were cold.
“Thornpitch’s barrier swirls darker,” Talon said. “Perhaps Kcirred knows his spy failed him.”
“Or he has plans to increase the wickedness.” Magnus adjusted his hold so Lyla would be more comfortable resting her head on his shoulder. “The maid said ye summoned the Weavers. Be that truth or a lie she made up for reasons known only to herself.”
“Truth.” Talon sidled over to another window and peered out, studying the landscape.
“I thought the old one and her assistant might be of some help in discovering what ailed yer lady.” He cast a worried look back at Magnus.
“Now we know she was being poisoned, but I still wonder what caused her to fade right after the great healing. That was before the poison. I fear something else may be at work here.”
“A poison we dinna know of?” Talia asked. She adjusted the blanket covering Lyla, tucking it closer around her.
“A poison. A spell. Who knows?” Magnus worried about that as well.
Perhaps it was not just Kcirred attacking his dear one.
One of the darker forces the druid had allied with might have gotten to her first. Or it could be an entity fighting to bring down the Highland Veil by preventing the completion of his and Lyla’s fated mate binding.
Sadly, much evil was at play here and identifying it, would not be an easy task.
Spreading her wings, Talia shield Magnus and Lyla from a particularly strong gust of wind. “A storm builds. Smell the rain riding on the air. Ye might consider retiring to another floor until the seventh is ready, mighty chief, to keep our lady sheltered and warm.”
Magnus inhaled. The clean, almost metallic tang of a rainstorm dampened everything. “Have Hellys check the library for contamination. If it is safe, I will take her there. If not, I will take her to Bastion and Frostborn’s tower. They will gladly shelter us until the fortress is made whole again.”
With a nod, Talia disappeared. Talon took her place, shielding Lyla and Magnus from the wind. “Kcirred seeks to divide us by placing a traitor in our midst. Ye ken that, aye?”
“Aye—and his ploy worked. There are few I trust at this moment.”
“Perhaps it is time to lay siege to Thornpitch. Bring Kcirred to his knees.”
“Then we best be finding a way to take down its shield clouds or at the very least, render their poisons useless.” They had battled Kcirred for what felt like forever and failed.
Magnus burned to lay waste to Thornpitch, but he would not risk the lives of his people in a war that could never be won.
“My primary concern at the moment is my lady.” He locked eyes with his kindred soul.
“Ye have always been a wily one, brother. Find a way to defeat that bastard. Successfully.”
Talon nodded, then lifted his head and went still.
“Come. Talia reports that Hellys has inspected the library and found it to be safe. Let us get the Divine One to shelter, get both of ye out of this wind, and served with a large goblet of dragon tears. We must not test yer resilience against the venenum, ye ken? Ye must remain strong for her.”
“Aye.” But Magnus knew in his heart that as long as he had Lyla in his arms, nothing could defy him.
As long as she lived and breathed, as long as her heart beat with the same rhythm as his, his strength would never fail.
He closed his eyes, focused on the warm, safe confines of the library, and uttered, “Tutum.”
Lyla nuzzled her cheek more comfortably against the wonderfully warm pillow that was harder than most of the pillows she’d used in the past. Must be a new kind of memory foam.
She tried to remember where she’d bought, then dismissed the passing thought as she pulled the covers higher around her neck.
The room was drafty. She must’ve left the window open, but she didn’t care enough to open her eyes and look or get up and shut the window.
She deserved to be a little lazy this morning and treat herself to another fifteen minutes of snoozing.
After all, Jake’s piano lesson wasn’t until tomorrow.
She could stay in bed all day if she wanted.
Then something popped and crackled. The faintest scent of woodsmoke burrowed its way through her sleepiness. Woodsmoke? Fire? Holy crap! Was her building on fire? Her eyes flew open and reality came rushing back with such a vengeance that she sucked in a long, wheezing gasp.
“My love! I am right here. Ye are safe.” His face close to hers, Magnus cradled her cheek in his palm, locking his eyes with hers. “Ye are safe,” he repeated softly, tenderly stroking her face with his thumb. “I have ye, my love. Ye are safe.”
Remembering all that had happened before she’d begged him for a little nap, she breathed easier.
“Sorry. I guess I forgot where I was there for a minute.” Then she noticed their surroundings.
Books. Massive, alpha male furniture, as in, large, cushioned chairs upholstered in animal hides that made her cringe.
Weaponry hanging on the walls. A fireplace huge enough to burn entire trees.
That was the thing about the Thirteenth Realm.
Nothing they created was small. Except for the Twanes, of course. And baby dragons.
She settled back against his chest, nestling her head in the curve of his neck and shoulder. “I figured you’d carry me to your private chambers so I could take a nap. Where are we?” That sounded ungrateful. “Not that it’s not nice. Did I get too heavy?”
He kissed her forehead and shifted her weight in his lap, adjusting his arms around her.
“It has been seven days since the great healing in the tombs, my love, and we are in the library until the seventh floor is fully prepared for us and ready to move into. It should be soon. Tern and Inuk know they have little time.”
She pushed herself upright, or tried to, and found it to be too much of an effort. Weakly, she maneuvered her head and shoulders so she could look up at him. “Are you saying I’ve been asleep for a week? And what happened to the rooms we had before?”
Staring down at her, he pulled in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled as if forcing himself to remain calm.
“Ye have been more than simply asleep for a week. While we dinna ken what caused ye to succumb to such weakness right after the healing, the unnatural slumber that claimed ye thereafter was brought on by poison. Not only did that feckin’ maid contaminate the water and the balms we used to treat ye, but she also spread the venenum across yer bedsheets, throughout the dressing room, and in the waters of the bathing solar.
She put it everywhere on our private floor.
If not for Ipsillian’s blood oath and yer will to survive, ye would nay still be here in my arms.” His voice broke, and he looked away, focusing on the fire.
“I would have had to wait until the next life to find ye.”
Poison. Maid. It took her a minute to sort through everything he said. “Who tried to poison me?”
“Martha.”