AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Mm-hmmm…”
“Riona, please. Open your eyes. Listen to my voice.” Auberon fought his rising panic as he ran down the aisle, trying not to jostle her too much.Creator, don’t let her die. I’ll do anything. Just don’t let her die.“Don’t you dare go to sleep, you understand me? Keep listening to me,aramati.”
She mumbled something incoherent, her fingers curling in the fabric of his doublet.
“Open your eyes, Riona!” he snapped, his voice tight with fear. Auberon burst through the theater’s main doors and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the carriage Riona had taken to meet him was still waiting by the curb. He needed to find a healer, any healer. It didn’t matter if the king’s men came to arrest him within the hour, believing that he’d had a hand in this attack. He only needed her to live.
Then an idea struck him, and he called up to the driver as he climbed into the carriage, “The Drunken Monarch—as fast as you can.Go!”
The driver cracked his reins, and Auberon fell onto the bench as the carriage lurched into motion. His heart fractured as Riona let out a soft, low moan. He laid her across his lap and pressed his hands to the wound in a desperate attempt to stanch the bleeding. Tears leaked through Riona’s lashes, leaving shiny streaks across her dark skin.
“I’m sorry,aramati. I’m so sorry. I’m going to get help. I’m going to fix this.” The words spilled out of him, barely coherent. “Listen to my voice. Riona,open your damn eyes!”
When they arrived outside the tavern, Auberon picked her up and stumbled out of the carriage. He tossed the driver his entire coin purse, then hurried down the alley and into the secret passage up to the castle. Amaris had shown him the hidden exit when they’d left for Crafford; a small door painted to look like stone sat at the bottom of the crag atop which the castle sat, and a narrow, twisting staircase led directly to the royal apartments. Auberon half-ran, half-tripped up the stairs. The entire time, he begged her to hold on, to open her eyes, to listen to his voice.
At last, they reached the top, and he shoved the door open. He raced along the tall stone wall that surrounded the castle buildings, keeping a careful eye out for Rivosi guards. Only when he reached Valerian’s house did he emerge from the shadows, startling the guards standing watch at the front door. “Get the duke,” he croaked, his voice hoarse.
They rushed into the house. A heartbeat later, Valerian opened the door, the guards at his heels.
“Heal her,” Auberon pleaded, unable to keep the desperation from his voice. “Please.”
Valerian took one look at Riona and stepped aside. “Put her in the bedroom. Guards, gather the others and wait outside. Wake the ones who are asleep. I want privacy.”
Relief flooded him. Auberon followed the duke down the hall and set Riona on the bed. Her head lolled to one side. She’d fallen unconscious, but her chest still rose and fell almost imperceptibly. Valerian pushed him out of the way and bent over Riona to examine the wound, his expression one of practiced calm.
“Give me some light,” he commanded over his shoulder. “There are matches on the desk there.”
Auberon obeyed. As he moved around the room, lighting the candles and lanterns, Valerian cut away the neckline of Riona’s tunic and began murmuring in Kentari Imperial, his fingers following the line of the wound. Auberon leaned over his shoulder, his panic like a noose around his neck. Guilt threatened to swallow him whole. This never would have happened if he hadn’t asked her to meet him at the theater, if he hadn’t indulged his longing for a future that could never be.
“Will she live?”
“I don’t know,” Valerian said, the words clipped. Already, Auberon could see his skin paling, dark shadows pooling under his eyes. He remembered with a jolt what the duke had said about blood magic: if he didn’t have a surplus of power, healing a fatal wound would kill him.
And yet, Valerian hadn’t even hesitated.
“If I brought you one of the men who did this, would it help? You could kill him, take his power.” Auberon swallowed. “Save her life.”
The duke shook his head. “I’ve already begun; the connection has been made. One of us would be dead by the time you returned. Plus, there’s some sort of ritual required to bind another’s life with blood magic, and I don’t know how to perform it. We have no choice now but to pray.” With that, Valerian switched back to Kentari Imperial, reciting incantation after incantation.
Auberon watched, helpless, as Riona’s blood stained the white silk sheets a deep crimson. The sight sent a fresh wave of rage through him, chasing away his terror. One of the bastards who had attacked them was still alive.
He started toward the door, and Valerian paused. “Where are you going?”
“To find the person who did this.”
“You can’t—you’re distraught, injured, and soaked in blood. From what I can see, you have at least a half-dozen wounds, many of which need stitches. Tend to your injuries, change your clothes, and once you’ve recovered your senses, hunt down the man who attacked you. My guards will help you.”
He shrugged off the duke’s objection. “I’m going to find him, and I’m going to get answers. Don’t try to stop me. And send some men to watch over Lord Lachlan’s house. I don’t want to risk his or Lady Amaris’s safety.”
“Auberon—”
“Do it. Please.”
At the raw, desperate sound of his voice, Valerian gave a single, reluctant nod. “Very well.”
“Thank you,” Auberon said, then turned and stalked out of the room.
ChapterSixty
