Solace

by Bethany Adams

  “I’m not sure I know it.” She brushed her lips against his, and their breaths mingled. There was a vulnerability in her expression that had him kissing her once more, hoping to spare her—both of them—from what she didn’t want to say, but she pulled away. “No, Lial. No evasion. I shouldn’t have asked that when I haven’t decided for myself.”

  He sighed. “And I shouldn’t have pressed.”

  “You should have.” Lynia cupped his cheek, and the spark in her eyes made his heart pound. “I think I’m falling in love with you, but this is so…different. I’m used to the certainty of a bond. This is like falling in truth. I have no idea what I’ll find at the bottom.”

  “You’ll find me. You know I’ll always catch you.”

  Her expression softened. “Is that so?”

  “Of course.” Lial flipped them over again, surprising a laugh out of her as she sprawled across his chest. Gods, he loved making her laugh, a sound heard too rarely. “See? I can even be your bed while we sleep.”

  Lynia’s hand trailed down his side and over his waist. He sucked in a sharp breath. “Didn’t you say I’m in no condition—”

  Her fingers wrapped around him, cutting off his words, and she chuckled again. “I suppose I was wrong. Though if you prefer to sleep now…”

  “No,” Lial managed. “Perhaps I have some energy left.”

  With a wicked grin, Lynia sat up to straddle his waist. “Good.”

  Gods’ blessings. If it wouldn’t mean admitting he’d followed his cousin’s advice, he might have considered sending Ralan a gift. Then thought fled as Lynia took him in, her body moving over his. She was all he could see or feel. Everything.

  And as they exploded together, he could forget that the world wasn’t perfect.

  Lynia woke to the insistent internal pinging of her alarm spell. Grumbling, she shifted against her oddly warm bed and then froze when she realized that she was pressed against skin, not fabric. Lial. Lazy contentment filled her before it reached her lips in a slow smile. She’d fallen asleep sprawled across him.

  Carefully, she lifted her head to find that she’d had her face snuggled in the vee where Lial’s neck met his shoulder. He still slept, and she gave herself a moment to savor the relaxed peace of his expression in the gentle glow of the dawn light slipping through the window. But she couldn’t tarry. She’d directed the alarm spell to wake her a mark before her potion was supposed to be complete.

  Lynia disentangled herself as slowly as she could, though she expected him to wake at any moment. He was a light sleeper, ready to come to the rescue at the slightest sound. But although he stirred, a frown marring his brow until she tucked the blanket over him to ease the chill of her absence, he remained asleep.

  He truly had drained himself of magic last night.

  Her footsteps fell silently as she tiptoed to the wardrobe holding Lial’s clothes. She had no change of clothing, and she was loath to don the dress she’d left upstairs in the bathing chamber. She might know spells to remove wrinkles, but she didn’t know a thing about clearing away bad memories. She would never forget the look on Lial’s face as he’d flung his own clothes at the wall and stepped into the spray.

  Shoving the image to the back of her mind, Lynia opened the wardrobe and peered inside. His pants wouldn’t fit, nor would his healing robes—both would be too long. Maybe a tunic? It would be rather short, but it would have to do. If Maddy stopped by, Lynia would have to beg her help in retrieving something from her room. For now, she grabbed one of the longer brown tunics and pulled it over her head before rolling up the sleeves. Then she dug out a long strip of fabric to use as a belt.

  Absolutely anyone who stopped by would know she’d spent the night, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

  “That looks far better on you than me,” Lial said, his voice a sleepy growl that sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine.

  Even so, she stiffened in embarrassment before spinning to face him. “I forgot to stop by my room. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Lial sat up, shoving at his sleep-tangled hair. “I don’t. But why are you up?”

  “The potion is almost ready.”

  “Potion?” A line formed between his eyebrows, and she had to resist the urge to kiss it. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Of course, he didn’t. He’d been in so much pain the night before that she’d forgotten to mention her own discovery. “I found a recipe created by the healer Emereh in a journal Selia had sent over from the Citadel. According to the text, it’s what he used to treat those with the illness in Abuiarn.”

  Lial sprang from the bed, not seeming to notice his nakedness.

  Gods, he’s well-built.

  She shook the thought aside as he reached her, but she had to train her eyes on his to do so. Then the strange expression on his face caught her attention. Hope, sure. But there was also guilt and pain in the mix. Why would the idea of a potion be a source of unhappiness?

  “I wish I’d known yesterday,” he whispered.

  Oh. Oh. Lynia gave him a quick, soft kiss. “I’m sorry my gift isn’t strong enough to reach you from here. But would Korel have survived his other injuries long enough to wait for the tincture to be distilled?”

  “No, he wouldn’t have,” Lial grumbled. “That doesn’t stop me from hoping for a different outcome. I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for what I had to do.”

  Lynia studied him for a moment, trying to think of something to say. Something to help him see. Then she knew. “I suppose you’re upset at the king for killing Kien.”

  Lial scowled. “What?”

  “I imagine Kai shouldn’t have killed Allafon, either.” She settled her hand against Lial’s chest. “And if anyone should do the same to Meren while trying to capture him, that would be a terrible wrong.”

  Lial’s expression only grew darker. “I know what you’re trying to say. They are warriors.”

  “Healers are, too, in their way. You’re merely on the other side of the battle.” She tapped her fingers against his skin. “I never thought you considered warriors to be murderers, but I guess you must.”

  “Lyni, that’s—”

  “Nothing more than the truth,” Lynia insisted. “Killing Allafon and Kien might have saved hundreds or thousands of lives. So did killing Korel.”

  Lial tugged his hair away from his face with an impatient swipe. “It doesn’t feel the same. We don’t really know what might have happened if Korel had gone free. The virus appeared to be inert in his blood, still locked behind the containment spell. I don’t think it would have been activated if we hadn’t used healing magic on him.”

  “You had to, so that’s irrelevant.”

  “That supposition, yes.” Lial huffed. “But there’s also the fact that neither I nor Alerielle appear to have been infected despite our close proximity during treatment. If I’d had some other method, he might have been saved without harming others. Maybe it was convenience for myself and not the salvation of others.”

  “Would Korel have lived until the potion’s completion?” Lynia asked. “Could you have stopped the virus’s progression for so many marks?”

  Lial’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer. “No. It was eating through him like fire consumes the plains. Once the virus reached his nervous system, I’m not sure anything would have stopped his agony. Attempting to use magic would have fed the virus, and it would have required deadly amounts of potion to numb the pain.”

  “So it was mercy, too,” she pointed out.

  “Even so… I should have done better.”

  Lynia wanted to kick him, but then he would have insisted on using energy to check her toes for injury. Annoying man. “You’re upset that you didn’t kill yourself trying, aren’t you?”

  Shock covered his face before it was replaced by guilt. “Perhaps I am.”

  “Well, don’t,” she snapped. “Kill yourself during a healing, that is. No one should ask that
of you.”

  Lial winced. “I suppose nearing that line has become a habit.”

  “A habit you need to be well rid of, especially if you hope to have a relationship with me.” She pushed lightly against his chest. “Think on whether you can do that. I’ve already lost Telien. If you plan to throw your life on everyone’s funeral pyre, we should end this now. There’s no stopping the unexpected, but this is far from that.”

  He covered her hand with his. “I should have considered that.”

  “Yes,” she said tightly.

  “I’m not used to having anyone to worry about but myself.” Lial’s sigh brushed her lips, a sad substitute for a kiss. “I’ve been alone for a long time.”

  Lynia smiled. “Sounds like a change is in order.”

  “Perhaps I could take on a few more assistants and another master healer,” Lial conceded. “Assuming we all survive this.”

  Lynia’s thoughts flicked back to the potion brewing below, and she peered around him at the water clock. “Clechtan. I’ve lost a quarter mark. Get dressed and meet me below. Then we’ll see if we’ve found a bit of good fortune.”

  There were no guarantees with this potion, but Lynia didn’t let herself consider that. Instead, she gave Lial a quick kiss and hurried toward the stairs, trusting he would follow. If the concoction did fail, it wouldn’t be for lack of attention.

  Chapter 34

  Lial smoothed his tunic and slipped his feet into a pair of low boots. The rumble of his stomach reminded him of the bread he’d stashed in the small box on the far edge of the table. It might be a little stale, but it shouldn’t be moldy. He grabbed a clean plate from the nearby shelf and set it on the table—only then noticing the piece of paper with a scrawl of unfamiliar handwriting, the gold ring on top.

  Frowning, Lial slid the paper from beneath the ring and scanned the note. Then he read it twice more to make sure he’d read the written English properly. Which he had, of course. He’d spent enough time around Fen that even the slang took only a moment to grasp.

  Don’t be pissed, but I added an enchantment to the ring. Maddy’s father Shayan taught me. If you and Lynia link mentally while the magic is activated, it should allow for a stronger telepathic bond. If she’s wearing it, anyway. I can undo it if you had something else in mind.

  P.S.: Don’t screw this up. Seriously, put a ring on it.

  Well, mostly grasp. Put a ring on it? Lynia was hardly an object. But if there was some other translation, Lial wasn’t going to ask. Fen taunted him enough without revealing that lack of knowledge.

  Though the lad could be thoughtful, Lial had to admit. Smiling, he tucked the ring in his pocket and retrieved the bread. It was good enough for a quick snack, so he placed it and a carving knife on the plate. He and Lynia would welcome something better when food arrived from the main estate, but at least they wouldn’t be starving.

  Unfortunately, the mirror chimed before he could carry it down. Grumbling beneath his breath, he stomped over to activate the charm, but he was careful to keep his expression neutral. Few people contacted him through this direct link, so it generally meant business.

  Tynan’s image filled the screen, and Lial just managed to hold back a frown. “Good morning, Priest-Healer Tynan. I confess you have caught me off guard.”

  “Good morning.” Tynan rubbed his chin. “Forgive my haste in asking, but were you not warned of my intention to contact you? My superior spoke with Lord Lyrnis last night.”

  Iron curse it. Lial had completely forgotten that Tynan was supposed to report to him this morning. “I’m afraid we had an emergency that took my attention. Were you apprised of the situation?”

  “The illness? Yes. I should have considered that would have occupied your thoughts.” Tynan’s expression grew somber. “I had a crisis here that delayed me, but I wanted to confirm with you that I can arrive within three marks’ time if it is still convenient. The Myern left it to your discretion.”

  Would it be fine? Lial had no clue, considering how much chaos the last few days had brought. But as he’d thought the night before, having another healer around wouldn’t hurt, and it would make Lynia feel better until he could find more permanent assistants. “That should suffice, so long as you’re willing to take the risk.”

  “I am. A priest of Bera is always prepared to step into danger to help others,” Tynan said, his voice firm enough that Lial couldn’t doubt his sincerity. “How is Aris this morning? If I need to hasten…”

  Lial’s mind went blank at a sudden realization—he had no clue how Aris fared. Nor Caeleth or any of his other patients. None. Gods. What kind of healer left his two most crucial patients unmonitored? Heat climbed up the back of his neck and spilled across his face until Tynan’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Is something wrong?” Tynan asked.

  “No,” Lial snapped. “There’s a potion that needs my immediate attention. I will see you in three marks’ time.”

  The younger healer’s lips twitched. “Very well. Until then.”

  Lial cut off the connection without another word. No use wasting time on pleasantries since Tynan already knew his brusque nature. Instead, he grabbed the plate and hurried toward the stairs while sending out a mental call to Aris. He received a sleepy—but calm—reply that eased some of his tension. But not all. The life mage could have had a breakdown strong enough to level half the estate, and Lial would have slept through it.

  He’d been too busy indulging himself, first in self-recrimination and then in Lynia’s presence. He might have needed the sleep, but he should have returned to work as soon as he’d woken rather than lay there admiring Lynia as she’d nabbed his clothes from the wardrobe. His first thought had been to coax her back to bed. How could he have forgotten the lives that relied upon him?

  Sounds like a change is in order.

  Lynia was right about that. But while he recognized the need for more helpers, those extra healers weren’t here yet. Not even Tynan would arrive for another three marks. Lial would do well to focus on the task at hand.

  The potion had turned the palest shade of purple, much like the sky as the sun set in winter. Lynia tilted her head, hoping to see a slight shift in color at the motion, but nothing happened. According to the recipe, the completed concoction would take on a bluish tinge if one shifted perspective, almost like a prism effect. Then it would cure to a violet blue.

  At least there would still be time for Lial to add energy.

  His footsteps sounded on the stairs, and she turned to smile at him. But the curve of her lips flattened at the stern expression on his face—one that barely softened when he reached her. Though he carried a plate of bread, he hardly appeared to notice it as he frowned down at her. What had happened in the few moments since she’d left him to get dressed?

  “Lial?”

  “I forgot about Aris,” he muttered, and she noticed then the angry flush tinging his cheeks. “And Caeleth.”

  Well, that explained it. “Elan was leaving as I came down. He visited Caeleth every mark. I’m certain he would have notified you if there was a problem.”

  “A pale bit of solace, that.” Despite his words, his expression softened, and he glanced down at the plate he held. “I brought us food. My usual meal won’t arrive for another mark or two, but I keep extra on hand because of my odd schedule. If Elan was just here, we have a moment to eat it.”

  At the reminder of food, Lynia’s stomach grumbled. She laughed softly and shifted to one of the chairs from last night’s discussion. Lial took the seat beside her before cutting the bread in half.

  “Would you like for me to slice it into smaller pieces?”

  Lynia shook her head. “Don’t bother. I’ll need to eat it quickly so I can check the potion.”

  After he handed over her half of the bread, they ate in silence. A comfortable one, for the most part, although she could have sworn a hint of nerves were in the glances Lial kept casting her way. Was he bothered by something? Perhaps he didn’t li
ke her using the workbench.

  “I hope you aren’t annoyed that I started the potion,” Lynia said as soon as she’d swallowed the last bite. “You weren’t here to ask.”

  His brow lowered. “Of course, I don’t. Why would you think so?”

  “You keep giving me strange looks.”

  “Ah.” Lial shoved an errant strand of hair away from his face and brushed his palms against his pants. Then he carried the plate to a tall table beside the workbench before finally turning to answer. “It has nothing to do with that.”

  Lynia stood, but he didn’t move closer. Instead, he slipped his hands into his pockets and stared at her. What was wrong with him? “I can leave if you prefer,” she said.

  He let out a laugh laced with no small amount of self-deprecation. “How do we always end up like this, Lyni? No, I don’t want you to go. The truth is, I found a gift left by Fen, and I’m not certain what I should do with it.”

  This involved Fen? Her eyebrow hooked in question, and Lial released an audible sigh. His eyes locked on hers intently as he approached. Then he drew his hands from his pockets. It took her a moment to break her gaze from his long enough to peek at the hand he’d lifted between them, but when she did, she nearly gasped. In his fingers, a ring gleamed in the morning light. It was the same one she’d seen on the table. What was he doing?

  “I didn’t think that was a gift from Fen.”

  “The ring itself isn’t.” Lial took her right hand in his, their fingers linking loosely. “He added an enchantment that strengthens mental telepathy.”

  “So that’s what he did instead of researching last night,” Lynia mumbled.

  “It seems so.”

  Well, she had mentioned wishing she could talk to Lial. It just hadn’t occurred to her that Fen might take that literally—provided it was supposed to be hers at all. If Lial didn’t know what he wanted to do with the gift, that might mean he hadn’t decided who to give it to. It would be a terrible presumption to claim it unwarranted.