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Black and gray were speedily giving way to an array of rainbow colors. Dead rats and monsters vanished right before her eyes, and she said with a tinge of hope, “I see … oh … I see—it has worked.”
“Hush now. Ye need to rest and recoup,” Chance ordered gently, and he stroked her forehead. His touch was soothing and so very welcome. But her mind was starting to click facts into place.
The poison still rushed through her blood.
“Chance … could you take me to Ireland—please, to Ireland. I’d like to die in Ireland … love it so.” She thought of her family. They were close, and this would so hurt them. She thought of young David and his family and knew they would wonder about her. They would wonder what had happened to keep her away from them. They didn’t know she was a Fae; they simply loved her as a friend. She closed her eyes, as this troubled her.
“Don’t be talking dribble, lass. Die? Do ye think I would let ye die?” Chance’s voice was harsh with emotion.
She stared up at his face. He was more than masculine, more than handsome, so much more than that. He was her Thunder God—so very beautiful, inside and out … even if he wasn’t the type to stay!
She raised her palm to his cheek.
“Arrgh …” Even the slight lifting of her arm sent a ripple of pain through her that made her convulse inwardly. She was in a universe of hurt, sure she was going to die at any moment, and then …
The Prison Realm was gone, and in its place she felt the cool Irish breeze sweep over her. She smelled the sweet scent of tall grass and saw the wondrous Irish velvet night sky with its stars twinkling vibrantly.
Ah, she thought, he had somehow transported her to Ireland to die, and then …
She heard Chance say to Trevor, “Best be letting yer queen know about what has happened to the Fallen Druid and his prison. Take yer time, lad, and while ye be at it, ask for a Hallow that can show us the way to Pestale.”
“What—” Royce started to ask.
Chance was back down beside her once more. “Hush, love … ye need yer strength to heal …”
“What are you going to do?” Trevor asked.
“I’m taking the wee princess with me to Dravo. She needs time to heal, and I’m not budging till she does. If ye need me, I’ll be at LeBlanc Manor … watching over m’wee warrior.”
She heard a touch of admiration in Trevor’s next words. “She was something, wasn’t she, Chance? A fighter to the last minute!”
“Aye, that she is,” Chance answered, and just what else was that she thought she heard in his tone?
“Wee darlin’ … this is going to hurt, but I think some of yer flesh is growing back, and I need to get ye home … till ye be fully recovered.”
“Uh-huh,” she managed. Healing? Was she healing? She still couldn’t tell through the pain.
If they were truly out of that realm and she was immortal once more, she would heal, but because of the poison that had invaded her system, it might take time.
When he gently scooped her up an anguished cry escaped her, and she thought she heard the sound of pain in his voice. “Och, lass …”
And then they were traveling through time and space, and she saw flashes of light and colors, and what … what was he doing?
She seemed to float.
He laid her down gently on a soft mattress. She saw the bed was huge and the room around it the same. He put his fingers over her eyes and chanted something low and irresistibly beautiful, and she felt herself drift off … safely with him touching her. Wait, was he bathing her? She felt a warm, wet sponge glide over her body … Where were her clothes?
She heard herself sigh, and then … the weary Fae princess, encouraged by his spell, tripped into a deep sleep.
* * *
He washed her naked body gently with the healing herbal waters. She was immortal again, and her Fae qualities would soon repair the damage to her flesh and disgorge the poison in her system, but the experience of healing such terrible wounds would leave her weakened for days unless he aided the healing along—giving something of himself.
He had never done that before.
He had never felt this way before.
Everything he felt was new to him, and he battled away the confusion by dismissing it and relegating it to be contemplated another time.
