Miach couldn't bring himself to release her. "I do not doubt you are who you say you are, and I know the care you've taken of her over the years, but how can you possibly equal in that university of yours the herbs I have here?"
"You aren't the only one with a decent garden, lad."
"But healers?"
"Do you think I only have a selection of Harding's sons in my hall?" Nicholas asked.
"When will I see her again?" Miach asked, pained.
"If she lives?"
Miach clutched her to him. "I'm coming with you."
"You will do no good to her now," Nicholas said calmly. "If she lives, you will know."
Miach closed his eyes briefly. "I want an assurance."
Nicholas looked at him with one raised eyebrow. "You're the archmage, lad. Stretch your vision. Surely you don't believe your duty lies within your own borders alone, do you? You can know of what happens in other countries besides your own." He smiled. "You'll know?without me sending word."
Miach found he had no response to that.
Apparently seizing that as his opportunity to be about his business, Nicholas took several steps backward. Miach didn't look away, he did not blink, but suddenly in the place of the man crouched a great dragon with scales of emerald and a breast so encrusted with gems that Miach couldn't begin to speculate on their worth. As it was, they dazzled him with their brightness and hue.
The dragon beat its great wings and rose, then stretched out its great talons. Miach found himself offering Morgan to the wizard king of Diarmailt as if he hadn't a useful thought in his head or the smallest bit of sense to go with that thought.
I will see to her, if seeing can be done.
And with that, the dragon rose into the air, his burden clutched delicately in its talons. Miach stood, gaping, until the wind from the creature's wings stopped blowing his hair into his eyes and he could finally see.
He watched until the creature from a dream ceased to sparkle in the night sky.
All that was left was stars. Those sparkled as well, but he supposed that might have been from the tears standing in his eyes.
Miach dragged his sleeve across his eyes and continued to watch until he knew he would be standing there forever it he didn't turn away.
He took a deep breath. He would secure the kingdom, then he would take his own journey to Melksham Island and he would do it as quickly as possible. Perhaps Nicholas was equal to the task of healing Morgan, but he couldn't possibly love the girl the same way Miach did. If nothing else, Miach would offer what aid he could… and an apology, if allowed.
Miach turned away from the courtyard and walked back into the castle.
The great hall was still in an uproar. The shards of sword had been swept up and were currently being contained in a brass ash bucket held rather uneasily by Cathar. Cathar and Paien were eyeing each other closely, as if they wondered who would draw the first blade. No doubt Cathar was wondering if he might be able to get the bucket down before blood was spilt.
Miach took the bucket away from his brother and handed it to Fletcher.
"Guard that with your life," he said briskly.
Fletcher edged closer to Glines.
Miach turned to Adhémar. "Get on with your wedding. I've things to do."
Adhémar glared at him. "When I have my magic back, you will find yourself in a place you won't enjoy."
"Your magicback?" Adaira of Penrhyn screeched. "That keeps resurfacing, Adhémar. What do youmeanby that?"
"I told you it was an aberration," Adhémar said dismissively. "I'm going to go dress. Perhaps you'll care to see to supper."
Miach watched his brother walk off in one direction, his suddenly quite furious betrothed stomp off in another, and found himself somewhat relieved that he was not in either's shoes. His brothers likewise departed for safer ground, leaving him there with Morgan's companions. He looked at them to find them still watching him with expressions ranging from astonishment to disapproval.
He faced disapproval first. He walked over to Paien and held out his hand.
