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“This is what you want?”
That’s not an easy question to answer. I want Daisy to get what she wants, because making her happy makes me happy. At the same time, I selfishly want to keep her here. She’s my mate and despite my better judgment, I’m starting to crave her company.
“It’s what she wants.”
“The bond will break,” Zyla warns. “You should know better than anyone what that means.”
It means I’ll be a miserable fuck. Depressed. Loveless. Those who break the bond spend years recovering. The bond once set, while not tangible, is visceral. There are some who never recover. There are many risks, but I won’t keep Daisy here if she truly wants to go home. She could have another lover for all I know. I’m a jerk for not asking.
“Some things are worth the sacrifice.” I tip my chin toward the house. “Will you help me help her?”
Zyla narrows her eyes and her magic brushes through my head. I grimace. I hate scouring, but it’s the only way Zyla will trust my words. Thanks to my father, ogres have a reputation for being self-centered assholes.
“All right. I’ll try, though I’m not sure how a spell like that is possible.” Her eyebrows pinch together. “When the folk wakes, maybe he can tell us where he got it. Either way, crafting something that requires that great of power will take time. Even Callum will need weeks.” A ruthless smile cuts across her face. “Perhaps I’ll beat him.”
“Thank you, Zyla, but I’m afraid there’s something else I need help with.” I fill her in on Daisy’s mysterious illness. The witch retreats into her cottage and returns with a vial of shimmering yellow liquid.
“Try this and if that doesn’t work, I can scan her body and force the sarcasm out.” Zyla turns toward the house, gazing at it with what I can only call pride. “Edgar is awake.”
FIFTEEN
Is it really a party if no one cums?
DAISY
The Grand High Warlock is silent as he works. My ankle tingles from the vestiges of the healing spell he coiled around it. I didn’t tell him I was injured, but Orcus’ must’ve said something. Meddling ogre. Still, I’m not that mad. The sprain was bothering me more than I realized. I’d only grown accustomed to the ache.
Callum spreads a blanket of silver magic over Edgar’s body. This is the third application and it shimmers with sprinkles of green and blue, the concentration of color swirling near Edgar’s middle.Come on, Edgar. Wake up.I chew on my nails and watch the magic sink into his skin. Blood roars through my ears. Three seconds pass before the old man groans and struggles to sit.
Releasing a breath, I rush forward and help him, searching his wrinkled face for signs of pain. “Edgar, do you remember where you are?”
He releases a long, irritated sigh. “You’re using your pretend-nurse voice. I hate that.”
“You’re my friend and I was worried,” I tell him with an eye roll. “And the only reason you let me room with you is because you needed someone and the nursing companies refused to keep you as a patient. Now answer the question.”
“I remember falling into a bathing pit and finding you shacked up with an ogre.” His bushy eyebrows rise on his forehead. “If I was your friend, why were you fiddling with the ogre instead of trying to help me?”
“There was no fiddling, and I asked the ogre to help me find a way home.”
Edgar harrumphs.
“Edgar,” Callum begins, “I’m the Grand High Warlock. How do your legs feel?”
“My legs?” Edgar asks, looking at me and then down at his legs. He wiggles his toes. He sucks in a shaky breath and jumps out of the bed, spry as a spring chicken. His eyes shoot to the warlock and then to me and then back down to his legs. He shimmies, shifting his weight back and forth, and chuckling. “Daisy, my legs!”
A grin spreads across my face. “I know! Isn’t it amazing?”
“No lingering pain or numbness?” Callum asks. “Are you still tired?”
“Tired? Bah. I feel amazing!” Edgar does a little dance. “This is amazing. Any chance you could fix the wrinkles?” The hopeful look he gives Callum melts my heart.
“I’m not in the beauty business,” the warlock deadpans, smirking at me. He’s been nothing but kind. I’m grateful for his help; however, a part of me worries he might not be as nice as he seems.
Zyla had been so angry when he arrived.
“Ah, that’s okay. The wrinkles are fine. Once the ladies see me back in action, they’ll forget all about being mad at me.”
“Ladies?” I ask. “Who are you talking about, and why are they mad at you?”
