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Shim stared at him for a moment. “But that leaves her in danger.”
“It leaves her in a place where she can turn the tide.” He didn’t want it. Every cell of his body revolted at the thought, but Bronwyn mattered more.
“And if she dies?” Shim asked.
His heart would be a gaping hole. His life would be over. “Then we’ll find her through that door Duffy talked about. We found her once. We’ll find her again. But if we don’t let her try this, she won’t be the same woman we love.”
Shim took a long breath and held his hand out, gripping Lach’s. “Then we are in agreement. And Lach, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean it. Alive or dead, I am your brother and I love you. I am grateful to be walking and loving our wife.”
Lach stood. The forest around them was quiet now, the soldiers disappearing with their hag. They had found their prize and once it was in hand, none of the rest of them mattered.
“Where is Her Highness?” Roan asked.
“Gone.” The word sounded hollow.
Dante’s clothes were torn, covered in blood though he bore no mark of his own. It was easy to see how he’d healed so quickly. Kaja bore two holes in her neck. She’d obviously forced her husband to feed and heal after the battle. She looked up with tears in her eyes.
“Gone? How?” Kaja asked.
Shim came to his side. “The hag took her, but Bron wanted to go.”
Dellacourt snarled their direction. “She wanted to be taken? She wanted a hag to cart her back to the very man who had her killed in the first place?”
Charlie, the boy from Aoibhneas, walked with an arm around each of his fathers. “I can hear her.”
Shim stepped forward. “What do you mean?”
Nate looked down at his son. “He’s stronger now, but maybe his time there is still affecting him.”
Lach wasn’t about to put up with that. He’d been marginalized for far too long. “No. Listen to him. Let him speak. If he says he hears Bronwyn, then I want to know what she’s saying.”
Charlie looked him in the eye. “She’s not really saying anything, but she’s feeling. She’s feeling strong and she wants the rest of us to feel strong, too. She’s ready.” Charlie stood up, pushed his fathers away a bit. “I’m ready. We’re all going to be ready.”
Lach nodded, his mission clear. To bring the battle to Bronwyn. Like it or not, he was her soldier now.
“Lach, you have to come quick.” Gillian was suddenly at his side. Tears streaked down her face. Harry stood behind her, a deep frown creasing his brow.
Gillian grasped his hand. He allowed himself to be pulled as he looked back at Roan.
“Prepare to move. We’re heading into Aoibhneas. Someone find that damn phooka. He’ll know a way. He’s herded us to this point. The least he can do is get us where we need to be.” He followed after Gillian and then his heart nearly broke.
Duffy.
“He saved me. He fought so hard, but they kept attacking him. Lach, do something. I should be able to heal that wound. I’ve laid hands on him. I’ve sent him everything I have. Why won’t he heal?”
Tears welled in Lach’s eyes. “Because the dead don’t heal.”
Shim gasped behind him. “Oh, gods. He died days ago. That’s how you knew I was alive. Because you’ve kept Duffy with us.”
Duffy’s eyes came open.
“I’m so sorry, brother.” Lach looked down at the wee gnome who had been his heart friend for as long as he’d known what a heart was. Duffy had been their companion, their playmate.
“I knew it. I always knew it, brother.” Duffy sat up, looking down at the wound on his chest. It wasn’t bleeding. “I was mad at first, but now I know why I got to stay. I did it, Lach. I fought and I won. I got me battle and I saved me girl. Even though she never was me girl. It don’t matter. I get that now. It don’t matter that she couldn’t love me back. It just matters that I loved her and I got to be a better man because I loved her.”
Gillian. All those long years, Duffy had still loved Gillian, his childhood crush on her forming the core of his being. Lach had known Duffy had a thing for Gillian. Even from a young age he’d refused to call her sister. He’d loved her from afar and now he’d sacrificed for her.
Bronwyn loved them back. She didn’t deserve any less. Love was something Lach had worried all of his life. He’d called what he felt for Bronwyn love, but he’d always worried it was more about possession and obsession, that his dark heart couldn’t hold a softer emotion.
