Lionheart

by Thea Harrison

  “I know.” Resting her elbows on her knees, she laced her hands together and looked down at them. “I think you should tell yourself it’s going to take a good year before you fully shake off the effects of such a long magical battle.” She looked up at him. “I just made that up, but as a mental exercise it would do you good to remember there’s no such thing as an instant full recovery—not even when you have the self-healing capabilities of the full Wyr.”

  His gaze narrowed. “What symptoms should I look for?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea.” She shrugged. “Maybe six months from now you’re going to be frustrated because you need an hour’s nap in the afternoons when you never needed to nap before—I just made that up too, but I’ve seen similar things happen to other patients who’ve been through something catastrophic like this. Maybe you’ll end up feeling like you’re too emotional for a while. That might be a reasonable effect after having been numbed for so long. Whatever it is, be patient with yourself. It should all even out over time.”

  “I see.” He studied her. “Is there anything else?”

  “Aside from my bill for the surgery, no.” She almost smiled. He had no idea how much inflation had changed economies over the years, and she could guarantee the amount she was going to charge him would shock him to his boots. Then her impulse to smile died. “I’ve done everything I can for you, and now I need to go home.”

  While he appeared to make no physical move, the atmosphere around them tightened. She took a deep breath. Perhaps she should be looking for the nearest exit now.

  In a soft, biting voice, he asked, “Is it your habit to abandon your patients right after major surgery?”

  She pursed her lips. “Actually, yes. After an initial checkup after surgery, long-term follow-up or care is usually transferred over to another physician.”

  “At present, there is no other physician here.”

  That point was indisputable, but… Agitated, she thrust to her feet and paced. “Of course, but as long as you adhere to my instructions, you don’t really need the follow-up care at this point.”

  “How do you know that for certain?”

  “How do you think I know?” she retorted. “I’m the doctor. You weren’t in a messy accident that mangled your limbs—you were in a carefully controlled operating room where every incision I made was to maximize your healing afterward.”

  As she came to the end of the room and swung around to pace back the other way, she discovered he had risen to prowl after her. He was so light on his feet she hadn’t heard a thing. Realizing it sent a shiver down her spine.

  “I don’t accept your assessment,” he told her. “I think you’re trying to run away.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, backing away. “Run away from what?”

  “Not from what—from whom,” he replied as he came after her. “From me, and you, and that second kiss we have not yet shared.”

  “Oberon…” She backed up against the edge of the desk. “Nothing is going to happen between us. Don’t you understand? It’s the definition of impossible.”

  “I don’t buy that,” he growled.

  “It is! Even if I were to stay and provide follow-along care until one of your own physicians arrives, you would be my patient—and that’s a line I told you I won’t cross.”

  A bladelike smile creased his hard features. “There it is again—that pretense of an ethical line you’re trying to hide behind. But I can see you just fine.”

  What did he mean by that?

  She found that her breathing had quickened and tried to force it to slow the hell down. The effort made her words unsteady. “As soon as you’re not my patient, I need to go. For every day I spend here, approximately thirteen days pass on Earth. Today is my ninth day in Lyonesse. That means a hundred and seventeen days have passed on the other side of the passageway. Even as we stand here and argue, my life back in New York is slipping away.”

  “You knew that when you left, and you accepted it.” He advanced until his thighs brushed hers, and his expression turned ruthless. “You made arrangements. That’s no excuse for running now.”

  He was too close, too hard, too big. His scent invaded her senses, and his Power wrapped around her like a thundercloud. Everything about him was taut with aggression.

  She loved flying in thunderstorms.

  She knew without trying that if she slapped a hand on his chest to keep him at bay, he wouldn’t force her. And she considered it. She really considered it.

  Gripping the edge of the desk with both hands, she bared her teeth. “I don’t run away from anything.”

  He laughed and stroked a light finger down the side of her neck. The sensation ricocheted through her body. “Then you’ll stay.”

  Pushing his hand away, she lifted her chin. “I’ll stay, but just until another physician arrives. Annwyn and her troops should be here in five or six days if Robin doesn’t decide to go help them. Two weeks was what I had planned for my trip to Lyonesse, and two weeks is what you’re going to get. That’s all.”

  He whispered, “We’ll see, Kathryn.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Robin’s light, quick footsteps sounded just outside the office, breaking the nearly intolerable tension that had built up between them.

  Unhurriedly, Oberon turned away. As the sensation of his thighs pressing against hers lifted, she felt the stiffness in her spine dissolve until she felt as shaky as a newborn colt. Good gods, what had she just agreed to?

  When the puck appeared in the open doorway, he looked from one to the other inquiringly. “Is everything well?”

  “I just conducted Oberon’s post-op exam, and everything is great,” Kathryn told him, straightening her shirt unnecessarily. Oberon had barely touched her, but she still felt disheveled everywhere. “How are you?”

  “Well indeed. I have just returned from hunting, and a bounty awaits us in the kitchens. The sun is shining, and the ice is melting.” Robin laughed, a fey, wild sound. “Everything is coming into alignment as it should, and that is all because of you, beautiful mistress.”

  Oberon’s expression darkened. “It’s going to take a long time before everything is as it should be, Robin. We have a lot of rebuilding to do. In the meantime, I need to begin the process by assessing the weather conditions so I can make any adjustments if needed. The last thing we need are damaging storms because the temperatures are warming too quickly.” He glanced at Kathryn. “Unless that falls into the category of extraordinary exertion.”

  He’d made the shift away from their intimate quarrel with apparent ease, but mentally she struggled to regroup. “No, not at all. My warning was for physical exertion. Just don’t overextend yourself by doing too much magic. Your mind, body, and Power are all one unified biological system, and every part of you needs recovery time.”

  “Understood,” he said. The expression in his gaze stroked her like a caress. “We’ll finish this conversation later.”

  “As far as I’m concerned,” she muttered, “we finished it just now.”

  His soft laugh was insidious as it wound around her senses. “You can tell yourself that if you need to.”

  She watched him stride out purposefully. Then she turned her attention to Robin. “I need to go downstairs to hunt for that needle. Will you come with me?”

  Revulsion twisted his narrow features. “Must I?”

  “Well… no,” she admitted. “But it would give me a chance to talk to you.”

  “We are talking right now,” he pointed out, spreading out long, thin hands.

  “So we are.” Smiling, she chose not to push against his claustrophobia and aversion to the crystal cave. More soberly, she said, “Robin, I’m going to ask you to go back for Annwyn and her troops.”

  The puck’s cheerful demeanor vanished. He gave her a glare that reminded her just how many teeth he had. “Why should I do such a thing? They make noise and insinuations. It is peaceful here without them. I am happy here with y
ou and my liege.”

  She sighed. “I understand there are unresolved issues between you and the rest of the Dark Court, but despite how you feel about the others, Oberon needs them. While the surgery was successful, his recovery has only just begun. He needs his people here.”

  Robin’s scowl deepened. “He has me. And he has you to guide him to the future.”

  She set her jaw as she considered his rebellious demeanor. “Keep in mind what’s really at stake. Every delay you cause here in Lyonesse gives Isabeau more time for her recovery and to make her next moves.”

  He grew so still she knew she had hit her target. At last, he muttered, “I will consider your counsel seriously.”

  “Do that.” Judging she had pushed him hard enough, she touched his shoulder as she passed by. “Thank you for hunting for us. After I search the cave and clean up, I’ll take a turn at cooking.”

  He inclined his head in acknowledgment but watched her go without replying. His feral gaze had gone opaque. She didn’t know him well enough to be able to guess at his thoughts, but he appeared a lot less friendly than he had when he’d first arrived.

  Just as she couldn’t fix him, she also couldn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to do. She only hoped her argument about Isabeau was persuasive enough to get him to act, because everything she had said was true. Oberon did need to reunite with his people.

  And also, when another physician arrived, it would let her off the hook. And she really didn’t know how she felt about that.

  Thrusting the puzzle of her mixed emotions aside for the time being, she headed down into the cave, but no matter how long or carefully she searched, she never did find Morgan’s needle.

  * * *

  The palace could hold hundreds of people comfortably, but after Oberon’s consultation with Kathryn, the indoors felt stifling and closed in.

  When he strode outside, the bright, cloudless sky was so immaculate it highlighted the destruction in the city below. He strangled the impulse to shapeshift into the lion and go hunting. They didn’t need the food, and despite his restlessness, he was determined to follow Kathryn’s instructions to the letter.

  He had to recover fully, and as quickly as possible. Too many people had sacrificed so that he could. They had given everything in the hope that this might happen. It didn’t matter how long it had taken or what doubts they might have had along their paths. They were still counting on him, or they would have killed him by now.

  And he owed them for it.

  Where were his troops? Where were the city civilians? Had they evacuated to the farmlands, or out of Lyonesse altogether? Annwyn and the others would have answers to his questions. If it weren’t for Kathryn’s admonishments to avoid expending himself physically, he would even now be heading out to meet them.

  What he could do instead was help everyone in other ways. Going around to the back of the palace, he walked the neglected paths of the gardens until he found a section of ground that captured a patch of sunlight and was dry enough for his purposes.

  Settling cross-legged on the ground, he closed his eyes and went into a meditation that allowed him to astral journey from his body.

  Joining the warm air current flowing high overhead, he spun and eddied with the flow and traveled hundreds of miles inland, casting weather spells as needed.

  Certain areas had been dry for far too long. Other locales had been deluged with mountains of snow and were now flooding with the onslaught of warmer weather.

  He couldn’t do anything about the floods. Many weather conditions couldn’t be changed quickly, and those floods had already been set in motion over the years with abnormally heavy snows. But he could divert other disasters that were in the making, and by the time he had finished working, he knew the next weeks would bring a much calmer spring.

  And that would lead to a decent growing season and what he suspected would be a much-needed good harvest.

  When his awareness returned to his body, the day had advanced significantly, and he was shaking as he pushed to his feet. There had been a time when he could do weather working for days. Now he could barely handle working a few light spells for a few damn hours.

  Stifling a surge of frustration at his own weakness, he went inside. Kathryn had been right. He had to give himself time. His stamina would soon return. For now, though, his belly signaled there was a rapidly approaching crisis and he needed to put food in it immediately.

  As he stepped into the cavernous kitchen, he found it warm and full of light and good food smells. His empty stomach growled.

  Kathryn stood at the table nearest the main oven. She had changed into a fresh outfit, a deep forest green dress with clean, simple lines that suited her perfectly. She had pinned her hair into a twist at the top of her head, and a few escaping tendrils emphasized the graceful line of her neck.

  He had once thought her beauty was understated, but now it shone like a luminous beacon against the mundane backdrop of her surroundings. The sleek, racy lines of her body and classic femininity were deeply appealing.

  On the table, golden brown pastries had been piled high on platters. Grabbing one, he took a huge bite. It was filled with seasoned chunks of venison and rich gravy that complemented the pastry perfectly, and it was indescribably delicious.

  “You can cook,” he said around his mouthful.

  She burst out laughing. “You sound so outraged.”

  Rapidly he devoured the rest of his pie and picked up another one. “Not outraged. Surprised. You’re a master-class physician and magician. Is there anything you can’t do?”

  She appeared to give that serious attention. “I can’t ski,” she told him. “I’ve tried, but I just don’t have the patience. I would much rather shapeshift and fly. My sword work is only passable. When I was younger, I learned what I needed to keep my father from fussing at me. Can’t paint worth a damn. Not interested in driving… one of those horseless carriages I told you about. Again, I’d rather shapeshift and fly. I don’t sew or quilt. My singing is enthusiastic but lamentable. So you see, there’s a lot of things I can’t do. You just happened to stumble upon the two things I do well—surgery and cooking.” She watched him devour a second pastry and then a third, and her expression turned wise. “You pushed yourself too hard today, didn’t you?”

  He glowered at her and reached for a pastry from a different platter. That one was rabbit, and it was heavenly. After swallowing, he muttered, “I didn’t mean to. I was weather working, which leaves me somewhat detached from my body.”

  “Do you need me to check you over?”

  He considered. “No, I don’t think so. The food is helping. Where is Robin?”

  “I don’t know.” Her gaze narrowed. “I’ve been wondering that myself. I have a few questions I want to ask him.” She focused on him suddenly. “Have you by any chance gone down into the cave?”

  “Not since the surgery. Why?”

  She rubbed her chin with the back of one flour-coated hand. It left a powdery trail of white on her creamy skin. “I went down earlier to look for Morgan’s needle. When I had pulled it out, it released some sort of magical detonation that numbed my hands, so at the time I just flung it over my shoulder.” Her troubled gaze met his. “Oberon, I’ve been over every inch of that cave today, and I can’t find it anywhere. I found my tweezers just fine, but not the needle. Would Robin take something like that?”

  “I’ll be sure to ask when I next see him,” he replied, frowning. “I don’t like it disappearing. It could still be dangerous. What does it look like?”

  “It’s just a thin sliver of magic-sensitive silver. I agree with you—I don’t like it disappearing either, and I didn’t get a chance to assess it properly. At the time, you were my only concern.”

  He took one of her hands and turned it over. She let him gently manipulate the fingers and rotate her wrist. He couldn’t sense any lingering magic on her, only her own light, steady Power. His frown deepened. “You should have said somethin
g earlier. You could have been seriously hurt.”

  “But I wasn’t,” she told him. “All is well. When I woke up this morning, all sensation had returned. Do you want another pie?” She pointed to the third platter. “I made those with dried figs and cherries, so they’re sweet, not savory.”

  “They sound fabulous.” He smiled at her. He had gone for so long without feeling. Now he felt awash in a symphony of emotion.

  The rage was still present. It might not die down for decades. Certainly not before Isabeau was dead.

  But most prominent among all of it now was desire, and that was a much lighter thing than the cold animal lust he had experienced when he had been trapped by Morgan’s spell—warmer, more complex. It was both deeply familiar and totally new, because now it was wholly focused on the woman in front of him.

  Another tendril of silken hair had escaped the knot high on her head. Using it as an excuse to touch her, he tucked it behind her ear. She gave him a wary glance but didn’t pull away.

  “I promised you a thousand-year-old bottle of wine,” he said.

  “Now that you mention it, yes, you did.” She smiled. “If I’d known you had that kind of treasure tucked away in your cellars, I might not have been satisfied with the first bottle of brandy I came across.”

  He grinned. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  Other emotions welled up as he made his way to the lower levels of the palace. On impulse, he took a detour to look in the crystal cave where his life had wholly depended on a single woman and her medical skills and ingenuity.

  When he ignited the witchlights in the cave, his eyebrows rose slowly as he stared at the scene. It looked like there had been a massacre. There was blood everywhere. It had dripped down the sides of the agate slab, and there were pools of dried blood on the floor with footprints walking through it. The bloody footprints tracked all over the cave. Surgical tools lay where she had dropped them, either on the table or on the floor.

  If he were to guess, he would say that normally she was a tidy person and her surroundings would be a reflection of the ordered discipline in her mind. This mess told another story. It provided an echo of the kind of intense difficulty she had endured throughout the long day. Gratitude washed over him. He shouldn’t have lived so long, let alone survived this kind of surgery.