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nd humid despite the November rain outside. Sabrina tried catching her breath, but her lungs felt squashy. Vertigo had the room tipping and falling, dinner rising into her throat. Lamplight shivered and streaked. Before she could call out, the room fell away, and she stood within the circle of Daigh’s embrace. Tears hot upon her cheeks. His heart beating steady beneath her ear.
He stepped out of her arms. Gave her an awkward grin. One last kiss. “I’ll be back, cariad. I promise. Your worries are for nothing.”
Her skin prickled over muscles that suddenly seemed made of water. A familiar voice called to her. And the room collapsed into a pair of mesmerizing, forever eyes.
“Better?”
From flat on her back, Sabrina blinked up into Daigh’s worried face. Presented an embarrassed smile as answer.
“I’ll take that as yes.”
She struggled to sit, though it took a great deal more effort than she’d imagined it would. She cradled her wobbly head in her hands. “How long?”
“A minute or two. Your face went blank just before you collapsed.”
Taking the cup he held out to her, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Swished the water around in her mouth, hoping to alleviate the fuzziness of her tongue as if she’d swallowed a ball of yarn. Her head throbbed all the way down to her toes, her vision splashed with color and light, and an ache in her heart as if she’d been stabbed.
“Sister Clea?” She peered through the blinding star-bursts, the room still rolling uncomfortably.
“Asleep. Put to bed with a drink of water and a peck on the forehead like a good brother ought.” He took back the cup. Refilled it. Set it on a nearby table. Such homey actions seemed at odds from a man who’d scythed his way through a gang of thieves like death himself.
“It was kind of you to pretend for her.”
“I didn’t do it for her.”
“Oh,” she breathed, a trembling beginning low in her stomach that had nothing of sickness about it.
Massaging her temples, she closed her eyes. Reclaimed a tenuous grip. When she reopened them, her sight at least seemed less volatile. The rest of her remained frustratingly unstable as if the quivery, fluttery butterflies had overtaken every part of her body.
What had she seen in those last seconds? Another unexplained imagining? Had it been a piece of Daigh’s life superimposed on her mind? Had she somehow tapped more than emotion? Called forth an actual memory? Perhaps these visions weren’t purposeful at all on Daigh’s part. No spell, but merely her mind’s momentary faltering. A breach through which Daigh’s past rushed in.
She nervously gnawed the edge of one fingernail. Rubbed at her forehead as if she might bring back the already fading vision. Her stomach danced a queasy jig that had her reaching again for the water. She let the cool tang ease her parched throat. “I don’t usually faint like that. It must have been something I ate or perhaps the late hour—”
He shrugged deeper into the shadows. “You don’t have to explain, Sabrina.”
“I just didn’t want you to think that—”
“You might be less than strong? I don’t. You’ve a streak in you that would put many a battle-hardened warrior to shame.”
“A warrior like you?”
A muscle jumped in that iron jaw of his, his body drawing into itself until barely a breath stirred him. “I can’t deny it. Not after . . .” He gave a queer shrug as if trying to shake free of this newfound knowledge of himself. An apologetic dip of his head.
A mannerism she recognized. She’d seen it only moments earlier.
In her mind.
The two of them. A tearful parting. And that same sheepish awkwardness.
“I lied to you, Daigh.”
He cocked a brow in question.
“I didn’t swoon because of what I ate. It was because of what I saw. A vision, but with more substance. More like a memory. Your memory. But I was there with you. How could that be?”
“I know no more than you.” He folded his arms across his chest with studied composure, but his eagerness knifed the air. Prickled against her brain like static electricity. “Go on.”
“The vision—it was you I saw,” she blurted, the ache in her heart returned and spreading. Her throat sore and scratchy. Eyes hot with unshed tears. “You promised me you’d be back.”
