“And I can now cast it outside of my own body.”
A proud grin broke like the sun across Sable’s face. She tried to sit up—and winced. “Killian, that’s great!” she exclaimed. “How many people can you protect?”
“Just two, not including myself.” He gave a nonchalant shrug. “It’s a start, anyway.”
“It’s more than a start.” She made to sit up again. “We have to celebrate!”
Killian leaned over far enough to settle a hand on her shoulder. “No,” he said, though a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.“Youneed to rest.”
She frowned and sank back into the mattress. “Both you and Hunter have a terrible habit of treating me like a baby.”
“Learn to love it, sister.” Those gold eyes flashed again to her bloodied bandages. “I can see Terren treats you as though you’re an ant under his boot. Perhaps you should be more grateful.”
She couldn’t argue with that. “How are Uncle Balthazar and Aunt Rhea?”
“Fuming, but relieved you’ve made it back safe.” He hesitated before confessing, “And Balthazar has every intention of locking you up and never letting you go back to Terren.”
“We’ll see about that,” she muttered.
“Sable,” Killian scolded. “That ring was designed to keep you safe, not to conceal your identity while you slip in and out of places you have no right to be.”
Sable countered, “The Dark Lord and his army have no right to rip this land apart.”
“They don’t,” he agreed. “But if you aren’t careful, one day you won’t come back. And you will be breaking a lot of hearts if that day ever comes.”
“It won’t,” she promised.
Killian’s eyes were burdened with sadness. “I sure hope you’re right.”
~
There were few things Hadrian cared about these days, but the one thing he was certain would never change was how he felt about Avalon.
Whether it was by sheer luck or the will of the gods, he still wasn’t certain, but he’d somehow managed to convince the family at the Elven House—and the woman named Kyrie who’d ordered the archers to cease fire—to permit him entrance. Hadrian still wasn’t sure why Kyrie had decided to help him, but he would spend the rest of eternity being grateful for her decision.
Unless the rumors of the rebel movement were true, the family residing here would likely turn them in soon, but right now he simply didn’t care. He was thankful for everything the lord and his nieces were doing to help Avalon.
Hadrian sat in an armchair next to her bed. They had administered the antidote for the poison only minutes ago, but he swore her skin was already returning to a healthy color. It was very possible that he was only imagining it, but if he allowed himself to consider that the antidote wouldn’t work—that she could end up crossing the Great Divide without him—he would lose his mind. He had to believe she could be saved.
Kyrie, the Elven daughter of the lord ruling at this House, took a seat beside him. He could feel her almond-shaped eyes studying him, but he could look at nothing except Avalon.
“Speak to her,” Kyrie urged quietly. “It might encourage her to return quicker.”
It was a funny thing, and it made absolutely no sense, but Hadrian couldn’t think of anything to say to the girl he loved. A part of him felt nervous, while the other part was embarrassed for some reason he couldn’t place. What was so difficult about talking to her while she was unconscious, probably slipping in and out of fever dreams, in comparison to talking to her while she was awake?
Kyrie leaned forward and pressed a damp cloth against Avalon’s forehead. Every movement was performed with care, yet Hadrian found his fingers curling into fists. He tried to rationalize with himself that she was only trying to help, but his fists remained tight as a territorial need to be alone with her surged through his veins.
Hadrian held his hand out in silent request for the cloth, and Kyrie stared at him. “I’ll do it,” he said, his voice rough. After everything he’d experienced since leaving the House of Ice, he was aboutthisclose to losing his mind—and his temper. That was the last thing they needed right now.
Kyrie surrendered the cloth and lifted herself to her feet. “Notify the guards if you are in need of anything,” she said, her soft voice like wind chimes.
Hadrian was grateful for the solitude, for he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last before he broke down and wept.
40
It was about time they’d made it far enough north to access the Shadow Temple. At least, what was left of it.
As they strode toward the crumbling structure in the middle of the forest glade, Killian checked to see if his feet were still attached, for he’d lost feeling in them days ago. It seemed he was out of practice; he’d grown up at the House of Ice, for crying out loud. A wolf had raised him in the brutal heart of winter. He should be able to handle a little cold.
