Page 79 of Dark Embrace

“Can you feel where he is?” Allie asked. “He must be far away, because I haven’t felt his pain yet.”

“I don’t know. Give me a moment.” She gathered her composure as best she could and slipped to her feet, going to the tent flap. She lifted it and ducked outside.

It was midmorning now. The camp had been dismantled, and the foremost ranks of armored knights were already on the march. She closed her eyes, lifting her face to the warm midday sun.

Blinding pain hit her like a tidal wave, driving her into an unmovable wall. Then she realized she’d slammed into Royce’s powerful body. Where are you? She begged silently, desperately.

There was no response.

But they’d never had telepathy; he had always been the one to read her mind.

Read my mind now, Aidan. Where are you? Let me help you!

A silence shimmered in her mind; there was only his pain and some kind of elaborate struggle. She did not understand it.

Royce had been clasping her shoulders, and he released her. “We’ll find him, Lady Brie,” he offered, grave and unsmiling. He looked at Allie and then strode off.

Brie saw a young Highlander bring Royce’s mount to him. She touched her cheeks, which were wet with tears. Please come back. Please tell me where you are.

Allie slid her arm around Brie and did not speak. Brie suddenly felt his pain again, a huge, hard wave that made her double over. Allie sent her more healing light, and as the pain vanished, they shared a grim look.

“I am going to keep my healing power on you, because his pain is too much for you to bear.”

Allie was right. God, what had happened to him? “He can’t die today, this way,” Brie cried, suddenly furious. She swatted at her tears. It crossed her frantic mind that he was supposed to hang, but she was not soothed. Maybe his Fate was death, and it simply didn’t matter how he died.

Worse, he’d waited to die once, when he’d been buried alive. What if he was so badly hurt that he would accept his death now?

She looked at Allie, burning with determination. “I won’t let him die.”

BRIE HAD BEEN SEARCHING FOR him all day on foot. Allie remained a constant shadow, clearly afraid to leave her. Every now and then she doused Brie with white light to keep his pain marginalized. Hours passed. Brie felt at her wit’s end. The only positive in the crisis was that he remained in pain, which meant he was alive.

She climbed the ridge for the fifth or sixth time, as it was a good vantage point. Mountains surrounded them. Another huge glen lay to the north, containing a vast, shining loch, and to the south was what was left of their camp. Most of the armies had marched on toward their rendezvous with the MacDonald and the Macleans. Just ahead of her, the air suddenly shimmered and shifted.

Brie tensed, filled with hope, but it was Ian who emerged from the mist.

She went still in surprise.

He pointed at her and began speaking urgently, but she did not hear a word.

“Allie, can you see Ian’s ghost?”

Allie hurried to her side. “He’s here? I can’t see him, Brie.”

“Ian, wait. What is it?” The little boy was close to tears, and she knelt. The timing could not have been worse. She needed to search for Aidan, not spend time trying to communicate with his dead son.

The boy trotted ahead of her, then paused and looked at her, clearly waiting.

It was obvious what he wanted. “He wants me to follow him,” Brie gasped, and she hurried after the little ghost.

He began to run.

Brie broke into a jog. “I can’t keep up with you!” she cried.

But the little boy didn’t slow down.

Brie forced herself to keep up, with Allie at her side—Allie had jettisoned her high heels for Nikes earlier. Brie was winded instantly, but Allie breathed easily enough. Knowing Allie, she probably ran miles every day, did a thousand crunches and God only knew what else.

They followed the ghost into the woods that covered the south face of the mountain. “Where is he taking us?” Allie asked.