Elara remained smiling as she approached. “I hope I am not intruding.”
“Nay,” Wynn said. “I was just telling Bria she should get to know you.”
Bria stood. “I am pleased to meet you, Elara. I know of your skills as an herb-scribe.”
“You are so brave to come to Driochmor. Most would have turned and run the other way,” Elara said, just before giving her a hug.
The moment Bria’s arms closed around her, the room vanished. A rush of emotion struck her: fear, grief, love, desperation, then darkness.
Elara lay motionless. Dar’s voice echoed with agony.
An ethereal woman hovered over Elara. Long golden hair shimmered around her like sunlight. Her beauty seemed almost unreal, her presence filled with both immense power and profound sorrow.
Bria knew her.
The woman placed a hand over Elara’s heart. Light flared and life returned.
Bria gasped. The vision vanished and she found herself staring at Elara.
Concern filled Elara’s eyes. “Bria?”
But Bria barely heard her, her thoughts on the woman from the mist. The woman who had wept with such heartbreaking sorrow. The woman who had appeared because of the pendant.
She had saved Elara. She had returned her from death.
Chapter Thirty
Time for Decisions
Where No Choice Comes Easy
Kaelan saw the change in Bria immediately. One moment she stood embracing Elara. The next, all color drained from her face. Her eyes widened, though whatever she looked at, it was not the room around her.
Fear struck him. Not the wild fear of battle and not the fear of an unseen enemy. It was the fear of seeing the woman he loved in distress and not knowing why.
He reached her before anyone else. “Bria.”
His arm went firmly around her waist.
She gasped.
The sound alone told him he was right. She had seen something.
Concern filled Elara’s face. “Is she not well?”
Wynn was already rising from her chair.
Kaelan eased her against him. “Nay.”
Neither looked convinced and, truthfully, neither was he.
Bria’s heart hammered against his chest. He could feel it.
“What happened?” Wynn asked.
Kaelan felt Bria’s fingers clutch at his shirt. A silent plea he easily understood. She needed time and privacy, and he intended to give her both.
“The journey here has been difficult,” he said. “She has had little rest since entering Driochmor.”
