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Deinwald looked grave. “They have called another priest. He has been with him for a while now.”

Analiese closed her eyes and lowered her head. Byron picked up his bag and went to Deinwald.

“Take me to him, Sir Deinwald. There is not a moment to waste,” he instructed firmly.

Deinwald looked torn. “Byron.…”

Byron pointed a gnarled white finger at him. “No argument. Take me now.”

Kieran nodded briefly and Deinwald complied, leading Byron back the way he had come.

“Dear God, Kieran,” Analiese moaned. “He is not really going to die, is he?”

Kieran sighed. “Not if Jordan has anything to say about it. What in the hell is taking them so long?”

As if she had heard them, Jordan suddenly emerged from the room. She was alone and Kieran went to her immediately.

“Take me to my husband. Now.”

He didn’t hesitate.

*

William’s chambers were dim and smelled strangely. Jordan’s nose wrinkled when she entered the dark antechamber, glancing about. It was a lovely room, but it didn’t suit him, she thought. All of her determination fled and now she simply felt frightened. She wanted to see him so badly but was scared to death of what she would find. But no matter; he was her husband and he needed her.

“He is in here,” Kieran whispered, pointing to the partially open door on the left.

Taking a deep breath and praying for courage, Jordan plunged through the door.

There were several people in the room. Her eyes immediately found the bed and the large, still figure lying upon it. Her heart went into her throat when she saw William; he was as white as the sheets upon which he lay, his glossy dark hair dirty and plastered to his head. His head was turned away from her so that she could not see the majority of his face and her imagination began to run wild. Fear and anticipation coupled and her body began to tremble.

Byron was on the other side of the bed, examining William closely. Not taking her eyes from her husband, Jordan removed her heavy cloak and took slow, halting steps to the edge of the bed.

“Byron?” she rasped.

Byron studied him a moment longer before answering. “The eye and socket are healing well enough. There are no signs of infection,” he said softly. “But he has been greatly weakened by this wound.”

Byron’s nondescript eyes met hers for a moment and she gazed sadly at him. Then her eyes drifted back to her husband’s still body. He was breathing slow and labored, and when she reached down to feel his pulse; his skin was clammy and his heart rate was slow. It took her a moment to realize that he had given up the fight. He was not fighting to live.

She was suddenly seized with a fury she had never before experienced. He was not going to die. Damn him! His eye was healing, but still he was not recovering. Why?

Jordan wanted to be alone with him, to feel him against her, to tell him how much she loved him. Even if he could not hear her, she would tell him with every breath she took. He had to know she was there and if he was not going to fight for his life, she certainly was. She would not let him give up.

There were too many people in the room, all breathing down her back at once. Her irritation exploded.

“Get out,” she snapped, looking up at the faces she did not recognize. When they stared back at her blankly, she became infuriated. “Are ye deaf? I said get out! Get the hell out of here, all of ye. Ye damnable vultures; I shall not have ye in here waiting for his last breath.”

Byron knew she wasn’t talking about him but he obeyed anyway, herding the priest and the royal physician with him as he went. Kieran and Deinwald began to bully the occupants on the other side of the room, quelling their protests until the entire room was clear.

When the smelly, dark room was vacant, Kieran stood at the door. He watched Jordan’s back as she gazed down at William, sadness tugging at his heart. He wished to God there was something more he could do.

“I shall be in the next room should you require me, Lady de Wolfe,” he said softly and closed the door.

Jordan stared down at William for a long, long time, ignoring the ache in her back and her general fatigue. Slowly, quietly, she went around to the other side of the bed so she could see his face. She was apprehensive, of course, a strange and unknown fear. But the minute she laid eyes on his beautiful face, she knew her fears were for naught. It really was her William.

The tears came then. She sat on the bed, putting her hands on his face, cooing softly to him. There was a large patch over his left eye. She bent over, kissing his face, her tears falling on his cheeks. Gingerly, she lifted up the patch to reveal the new part of him she had not yet seen.

There was no shock, nothing horrible confronting her. A thick purple scar ran crossways across his eye, starting near his nose and ending right over the brow bone. The eye was closed, a little sunken, but nothing catastrophic. Jordan gazed at it a long time to become familiar with it, seeing from the angle of the wound that indeed it could have been much worse. She leaned down and kissed the eye twice before replacing the linen patch.