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“I do not recall Hadrian spiced wine being able to distract war mages from Hesperines.”
“It’s a special vintage my lady saves for guests who are inclined to meddle in my battles.”
Lio’s respect for Lady Hadrian increased yet again. It seemed they had her to thank for drugging their mutual enemies.
Rudhira could heal Perita without fending off fire mages. If he got here in time.
The child was quieter now, whimpering in the other woman’s arms. She rocked him gently. “I’m sorry, Callen.”
He held Perita against his chest. His aura was numb, as if life was his enemy and had dealt him a blow in battle he had never seen coming. “Thank you for staying by her, Miranda.”
“Pakhne and I promised her she didn’t have to do this alone,” Miranda said.
Lio didn’t know her, but he could see she was so loyal to Perita that she didn’t flee in the face of liegehounds, Hesperines, and undead. Such an ally of Perita’s was an ally of his and Cassia’s. Even a friend, one could hope.
Callen lifted his gaze to Cassia. “If this is—the end—I’m glad you’re here, my lady.”
Cassia gripped Perita’s hand. “It’s not too late. The First Prince is coming.”
Rudhira’s aura filled the tent, wrapped in his own veil spells. He stepped in with Thorn drawn, Mak at his side. But Lord Hadrian didn’t give any sign he noticed.
“The Aithourians are drunk and drugged,” Lio said. “They won’t notice your spells.”
Rudhira sheathed his sword with levitation and stepped to Perita’s bedside. “Master Callen, my mother restored your knee. I have her healing power. I will treat your wife with the utmost respect, I assure you.”
“Do anything,” Callen rasped. “Anything to save her.”
Rudhira sat down on the edge of the cot and rested a hand on Perita’s heart. His brow furrowed, and his vast power flowed through the Blood Union.
“Can you—?” Cassia dared ask.
“Yes. We’re not too late.” The smile that crossed his face was bittersweet. How many memories did he carry of times when he had been too late?
Before their eyes, the color returned to Perita’s skin. The alarming smell of blood faded. Her eyes refocused, and she licked her dry lips. “Cal?”
He heaved a sigh, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I’m here, Pet.”
Her brow crumpled. “The babe—is he—”
Their son answered her with an ear-splitting squall. Joy shone out of her, and she laughed through her sudden tears. “Bless him, he’s got some lungs.”
Rudhira gazed at the noisy, messy, squirming little mortal with a soft expression Lio had never seen on his face. This life had existed for no more than a day. And yet Rudhira stopped, amid his sixteen centuries, to marvel. The Collector would never understand. But Lio did.
“He’s perfect,” Rudhira said. “Well done, Mistress Perita.”
Perita looked around her, and her eyes widened. Her hand tightened on Cassia’s. “My lady—!”
Cassia beamed at her. “I’m here, my friend.”
“I don’t need to ask what’s going on, then. Clearly it’s a scheme of yours.” She let out a sigh. “Whatever it is, I’m grateful for it.”
“Everything will be all right now,” Cassia promised.
Callen helped Perita sit up, and Miranda handed the boy to his mother. With Callen’s arm around her, Perita gathered their son to her, and the two lovers finally got to behold the new life they had created, in spite of all this death. The life Pakhne had delivered into this world, in her final act as a healer.
Lio wrapped a veil spell around himself and his Ritual father. “Please—will you see if there’s anything you can do for Pakhne?”
“Of course.” Rudhira rose to his feet.
