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She went out. Two seconds later, Ilianna appeared. I smiled, utterly relieved to see her safe and sound, but there was tension in me, too. I was ultimately responsible for what had happened to her, after all.
But when my gaze rose to hers, all I saw was complete and utter acceptance of all that had happened. There was no hate, no bitterness, not even regret or reproach. Just acceptance.
And I found myself wishing I could find even half of her serenity. Those damn tears welled again. “God, Ilianna—”
“Ris, it’s okay,” she said. “This event was foretold a long time ago, and even though I had thought it would be Carwyn’s child I’d bear, I can’t regret what happened. Not knowing what I do of her fate.”
“But he forced you—”
“He used magic, yes, and it wasn’t pleasant, but neither was it life-ending. I hate him, but I can’t hate the result.”
Which made me all the more ashamed, because I could. I didn’t want to bear Lucian’s child. No ifs, buts, or maybes.
But could I abort the child? Could I do that, when there was also a slim chance that the child was Azriel’s?
That was a question I just couldn’t answer.
I caught Ilianna’s hand and squeezed it lightly. “Where’s Tao? And Carwyn? Last time I saw them, they were both all fired up to ride to your rescue.”
She smiled. “Well, right now they’re both more than a little pissed at missing all the action. I believe Carwyn had pictured himself coming to my rescue and sweeping me off my feet in the process.”
“Oh, I have no doubt about that.” I hesitated. “Does he know what happened?”
“Not yet. But I’ll tell him soon.”
“How will that affect things?”
“It won’t. He’s after the merger with my family more than just me.” She shrugged, expression unconcerned. But then, it wasn’t like it was a love match. She had that in Mirri. “Stallions never take kindly to the offspring of others, but he won’t hurt the child, and she’ll be allowed to remain in his herd until grown.”
“I guess that’s something.”
“That’s everything. At least everything that matters.” She smiled. “Tao said he’d visit tonight, seeing your aunt is adamant you get no more than one visitor at a time, lest it weaken you.”
“She can be rather fierce about these things,” I said with a smile.
“Too right she can,” the woman in question said. “Ilianna, time’s up. You can visit her tomorrow. Right now, she needs to rest.”
Ilianna dropped a kiss on my cheek, then, with a promise to be back, left.
And that, basically, was the pattern of the next four days. Visitors in between bouts of resting, but no sign of the one person I really wanted to see.
Azriel.
It was deliberate on his part; of that I had no doubt. He’d crossed a line, with me and with death, and there would be a price to pay. Whether by me, or by him, or by us both, I had no idea.
On the fifth day, the doctors declared my werewolf heritage had worked another goddamn miracle and that I was fit enough to go home. That was music to my ears.
I rang Ilianna and arranged for her to pick me up, then climbed out of bed and took a shower. I was clean, dressed, and ready to get the hell away from the hospital and the awareness of death that continuously washed over me, thanks to the presence of the sick and the dying, when a different kind of awareness hit.
Azriel had finally decided to show up.
He appeared on the other side of the room, his arms crossed and his stance easy. And, as usual, his expression gave nothing away. He was holding his emotions—and his thoughts—very much in check.
I studied him for a moment, then said, “What did you do?”
“You know what I did,” he replied, voice even. “I made you live.”
I snorted softly. “Okay, let me rephrase that. How did you do that?”
