Chapter 17 #2
The door creaked, and Tern entered bearing a bowl of ice chunks. She placed it on the table nearest to the pool and motioned for Albionna to see to it. The maid hurried to bundle several of the smaller pieces in linen and handed it down to Magnus.
With the greatest of care, he rested it against Lyla’s swollen jaw.
She took it and moved it to cover her eye that had swelled shut. “Thank you.” Shuddering in a deep breath, she shook just as badly when she released it. “I think he broke my ribs.”
“I gutted him, slit his throat, ripped out his heart, and turned his body to ash,” Magnus said, “but somehow, that is not enough to repay him for his evil.”
She adjusted the ice on her face. “I don’t understand how he came back. I saw you behead him.”
“Nay, my love. I beheaded the shadow he created, the twin of himself. One of his poor prisoners, more than likely, and sadly, we shall never know. He set the feckin’ trap, and we walked right into it.”
“So he didn’t really use his powers to come back from the dead?”
“No. Even he was not that powerful. He used his powers to play me for a fool.”
“That makes me feel better.”
He noticed that she was gradually relaxing in his arms and was glad of it.
The more she relaxed, the faster she would heal.
“Yer feeling better gladdens my heart more than ye will ever know. I myself will never feel better for how I allowed him to hurt ye. I will regret it for all the rest of my days.” He tipped a curt nod at Albionna to fetch a fresh bundle of ice.
Lyla pulled in a deeper breath, then let it ease out as she handed off the linen of melted ice and took the fresh one.
“You didn’t allow him to hurt me.” She peered at him with her eye that wasn’t swollen shut.
“Back in my world, evil, especially evil with money, tends to rise to the top and overpowers everything else. But you stopped him here.” She worked her shoulders as if trying to rid herself of a burden.
“At least, I hope you stopped him. I hope he really is dead.” Terror returned to her.
Her bottom lip quivered, and her eye filled with tears.
“I’m so afraid he’s going to come after me again.
I know it’s not rational, but I can still see him.
Still hear him. Smell him. What if I’m never able to get past this? ”
“Shh…” He took a small piece of ice from the bowl Albionna had set within reach and touched it to the bloody split in Lyla’s swollen lip.
“We shall face one minute at a time. That is all we must conquer. One minute. Then another. As we face each minute, we gain strength, but we shall give ourselves as much time as we need. All we must conquer is one minute, ye ken?”
The faintest pucker of a frown appeared between her eyebrows. “We?”
He nodded. “Aye, we. I shall be right here for each of those minutes. We are bound, remember? Neither of us shall ever be alone ever again.”
She seemed to try to smile, then flinched and guided him to place the ice back onto the split in her lip. “I’m glad I chose the weirdness over the world I knew. I hope you don’t regret it.”
A soft laugh huffed free of him as he tossed what was left of the sliver of ice into the pool and reached for another.
He pressed it to her mouth and smiled. “When Mairwen first insisted ye were my fated mate, I wanted nothing to do with the business of finding the other half of my soul. I was more concerned with finding the woman of the prophecy. But then—”
“Then?”
“Then, ye bewitched me. Made me love ye. Made me know I could never live without ye.”
She tucked her head tighter against him and sighed.
“You made me trust you enough to risk loving you.” She tossed the bundle of ice onto the floor beside the pool, then curled against him like a wee kitten ready for a nap.
“I’d never trusted anyone with my heart.
It was too dangerous. I was afraid they’d just abandon me and never return. ”
“I will always return, my own.”
“I know.”
Mairwen sat at Lyla’s bedside, watching her sleep.
Chief Magnus MacRaith held her in his arms, her head pillowed on his shoulder.
But the chief didn’t sleep. He remained watchful, vigilant.
“Ye should sleep as well,” she told him.
“The danger is gone now, mighty chief.” She quietly shuffled the deck of tarot cards she’d pulled from her sleeve.
“Bride assured me of such at the exact moment that ye executed the true Kcirred, and we are forever indebted to ye for destroying such darkness.” She braced herself to receive his rebuke.
A wave of disgust crested high and hard in the iciness of his baleful glare.
But he had summoned her for a reason. She would know what that reason was.
“Will she heal?” he asked within her mind.
She assumed he didn’t wish to risk disturbing his precious wife, who had survived oh so much. “Aye,” she said, surprised that he allowed her within the boundaries of his thoughts. “She is strong and fierce. She will heal.”
“She bled.” He glared at her. “Did that bastard kill our child?”
Mairwen wished she could reveal the silvery, blue-white ring of pure energy glowing around Lyla’s waist, but it wasn’t within her power to do so.
Weavers were among the select few who could see a life’s aura as soon as it was created.
The talent was a goddess-given gift that was only allowed to be shared with a select few.
Magnus was not one of those few. “The child lives. The blood is of no concern. Yer child is strong. Soon, it will be big enough for Lyla to believe it grows within her.”
“Thank the mighty Draig.”
“To show their gratitude for all the two of ye have done, the goddesses and the Veil have sworn to protect this child and bless it beyond measure. They are thankful for yer bravery, yer valor, yer love for one another.”
“I’d just as soon they left us alone. That is how they can thank us.” He arched a brow at her.
Mairwen understood completely. Whenever the goddesses meddled in anyone’s life, there was always complications.
“I shall pass along yer wishes, mighty chief.” She rose from the chair and tightened her shawl around her shoulders.
Winter was coming. It was time she returned to the home fires of Seven Cairns. “Was there anything else?”
“Aye.” He eased his head up higher and looked at Lyla before answering. “Help me smuggle in something called ginger soda to my precious Lyla. She craves it. I dinna care that the Veil dislikes such merging between the realities. My Lyla has earned whatever she wants, ye ken?”
Mairwen smiled. “I will do my best, mighty chief.”
Lyla sat at the apinlyre, idly trailing her fingers across the keys, tapping out a light, nonsensical tune.
The snowstorm had curtailed her plans to visit Frostborn and Bastion’s triplets.
She didn’t think she’d have any trouble making it across the vast courtyard, but Magnus had blocked the door and refused to let her leave their floor if she didn’t promise to stay inside and save her visit to the warrior dragons’ tower for a balmier day.
He settled down beside her on the bench and with one finger, repeatedly banged on a single key.
She stood it as long as she could, then caught hold of his hand and stopped him. “Is there a reason why you like E??
“Admit it,” he said with a smug look.
“Admit what?” She knew what he was talking about but wasn’t about to give in without a fight.
He snorted and started banging on the key again.
“I’m going to break that finger so you have to tape it to a popsicle stick to heal. You won’t be able to hold your sword properly, and it will look funny. Is that what you want?”