by Lisa Kumar
Talion roared and, with a strength that seemed to defy human and elvin capabilities, knocked the two guards off him. He streaked across the room as the knife neared impact. Maggie instinctively rolled to the side, hope creeping into her. Though Eamon’s merciless grip wretched her shoulder and twisted her arm, it was a mere discomfort compared to the thought of dying.
Talion barreled head first into Eamon as an agonizing pain sliced through her left side. She cried out and bit her bottom lip. Damn it, the bastard stuck her in the side. It fricking hurt.
She pushed herself up with both arms. Pain shredded her side, and she collapsed back down on her stomach, clutching her injured side. Blood coated her hand. Though she couldn’t maneuver herself so she could see the wound, the slice seemed deep and near her ribcage. She’d be of no help to Talion. It was all up to him now. Speaking of Talion, where was he?
Worry gnawed at her as she slowly moved her head until she spotted Eamon and Talion. They had rolled onto the floor, where they grappled with each other. Thank God Talion was okay. For now, he was on top and trying to keep Eamon’s knife away from his throat.
Maggie’s gaze once again honed in on the knife clutched in Eamon’s hand. It was tinged in red. Her blood. Nausea ripped through her, but she forced it back. Being sick now wouldn’t help anyone.
A look around the room showed no forthcoming help from Andrian, Alanon, or their sentries. They stood immobile as they watched the fight. Maggie cast a desperate glance their way, but no one paid attention. Frustration and fright scraped down her spine like nails on a chalkboard. If the darkindred hated Eamon so much, why didn’t they help Talion?
Eamon slashed at Talion’s face, leaving a line of red along his cheek. Talion snarled something unintelligible and forced the dagger away from him.
With his free hand, Eamon punched Talion in the nose. The sound of bone breaking made Maggie wince. Talion’s whole body went still before he slammed Eamon’s knife-holding arm against the ground and head-butted him. The dagger flew out of Eamon’s grasp to land a few feet from the bed, and he lay there with a stunned expression on his face.
Yeah, Talion, kick some elf ass. Maggie would’ve cheered out loud, but all energy had left her. Her head didn’t feel right. She should try to grab the knife, but that feat sounded impossible. Everything seemed to be floating, including her. She closed her eyes in an effort to center her focus.
Once she opened them, Talion had his hands wrapped around Eamon’s throat. Intense rage surrounded Talion like a dark cloak, and his fingers were white from squeezing. Red crept over Eamon’s face, and he clawed his fingers over Talion’s hands. Even though Maggie hated the bastard, some part of her was disturbed at the violence of Talion’s actions. Blood dripped from Talion’s nose and onto Eamon’s cheeks, creating crimson droplets. A gurgling sound came from Eamon, but in a seeming burst of strength, he sent a knee smashing into Talion’s royal jewels.
At Talion’s yelp of pain, Maggie’s slight sympathy for Eamon disappeared like smoke in a storm. Eamon, damn him, took advantage of Talion’s distraction and pushed Talion off him. Lunging, Eamon made for the dagger.
With renewed energy she forced herself to a sitting position, gritting her teeth against the pain that tore into her side. She slumped forward, and her arms trembled under the pressure to keep her upright. “Talion,” she called out hoarsely. “The knife!”
With a sharp jerk of his body, Talion roused himself and staggered to his feet. But Eamon was nearly to the dagger. Ice gripped her heart. There was no way Talion could get there in time. Nor could she. Sitting up was a miracle for her right now.
As Eamon’s fingers touched the knife, Andrian stepped on the blade. A smidgeon of hope trickled into Maggie, and she released the breath she had pent up. Had Andrian decided to side with his brother?
Eamon slowly lifted his head. Disquiet flitted over his face, but faded away swiftly to be replaced by anger. “Give it to me.”
A twinge of satisfaction pierced the haze engulfing Maggie, and she smiled weakly. Eamon’s voice sounded even more hoarse than hers. There was some justice in the world, apparently.
Talion crept over to her side and placed a finger to his lips before he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Are you all right?”
He hadn’t noticed her gash? Probably not, it was on the side facing away from him, and her gown was a dark red. She didn’t want to freak him out—and have him distracted—by telling him of her injury, so she nodded her head. If they got out of this alive, someone could sigh and gasp over her wound later.
Talion must’ve believed her because his attention zeroed in on Eamon and Andrian—not that she blamed him. Her curiosity soon caused her to follow his gaze.
Cocking his head to the side, Andrian smiled at Eamon. “No, I don’t think I will.”
“You’ll pay for this, darkindred. Think your brother will protect you?”
Andrian shrugged. “I’ll take my chances. There’s no love lost between Talion and I, but I hate you even more.”
“Say goodbye to your darkindred. I’ll crush you all like flies.”
God, where did Eamon get his lines from? A cheesy movie?
Andrian, God bless him, laughed and bent down to retrieve the blade. “I’d like to see you try. You know you can’t kill all of us at once unless you destroy the orb.”
Maggie frowned. Orb? What orb? Oh hell, why not? There were elves. Why not orbs?
“No, but I can kill you and work my way down until I have the complete loyalty of your people,” Eamon said. “I think you’ve outlived your usefulness.” His face scrunched up as if he were concentrating and gathering himself to perform some nasty act, like world domination. Or maybe he was just wanted to take a dump.
She giggled to herself. Why did she find this so funny? There wasn’t anything remotely hilarious about the situation. And her pain should be— Actually, her pain had leveled off, and her arms still managed to keep her from collapsing forward. She still felt batty, though, like she was floating.
When Andrian fell to his knees, clutching his head, her mirth died away. What the hell was happening? When he collapsed to the floor in convulsions, his eyes snapped opened and stared at nothing. She gasped. The yellow of his eyes was fading.
Something clicked in her mind. Eamon. That bastard was doing this.
Talion must’ve come to the same conclusion because he broke out of his stupor and stalked over to Eamon. Yanking Eamon to his feet, he said, “Stop this.” He punctuated his words with a brutal shaking.
“Too late,” Eamon rasped.
Talion drew back his arm and let his fist fly, knocking Eamon onto the bed too close for Maggie’s comfort. Thankfully, he appeared unconscious, because she couldn’t move.
Andrian had stopped convulsing and lay on the floor, breathing heavily. Talion knelt next to him, but Andrian shook his head weakly. “Leave me. I’ll be fine after a while.”
Talion opened his mouth. “But—”
“You need to help Maggie. Only she can fulfill the prophecy. Maggie must take the orb from Eamon.”
Talion stared first at Andrian and then turned his gaze to her. For once, no words came to her. She had to what? And why? Heck if she knew, but sure, she’d roll with it. After all, Eamon was unconscious. How hard could removing the orb be? Except what did the orb look like, and where was it on Eamon?
Maggie pursed her lips, something digging at the edges of her foggy mind.
What had Aistiane said about Eamon ruining something with the palm of his hand? The darkindred? He’d ruined what the darkindred were to be? Yeah, that had to be it.
What was the significance of his hand, though? He hadn’t been holding anything in his hand. Wait a minute. His right hand—the hand that had slapped her, had a ring on one of its fingers. Could the ring hold the mysterious object? Maybe, though why had Aistiane said something about his palm?
Realization hit her, and her stomach revolted. She grimaced. Eww, gross. She had to cut it
out of his palm? Which one? The hand with the ring. He’d held his hand, palm up, when threatening Andrian with harm to the younger darkindred.
God, her life sucked. This stupid orb thing must be important. Whatever it does. Still, she wanted to kick Eamon in the ass for placing her in this situation. And the veil’s, too. Its magic had brought about the prophecy, so it was guilty as hell in her book.
She wet her dry lips, swallowing down the nausea that welled in her stomach and ignoring the sharp, stabbing pain on the left side of her chest. “Well, Talion, let’s get this show on the road. Give me a knife, and let’s cut this bastard’s hand open.” Bile rose in her throat as the last words left her mouth.
Talion startled into action and picked up the dagger that lay near Andrian’s now kneeling form. With a grunt of effort, Maggie held out her hand, leaning heavily on her other arm. Talion gave her the knife, curling her limp fingers around it. A gasping breath gave her lungs some air, but not near enough. She ignored his concerned, questioning glance. Great, he was starting to suspect something. Not surprising, considering she could hardly move.
She needed to turn so she could face Eamon. How to do that? Maybe inching around would do it. Who was she kidding? It was going to hurt like hell, no matter what. Especially since she couldn’t use her right hand as that one gripped the dagger.
On the count of three, she pushed herself sideways. Fire shot up her side, and tears stung her eyes. Nope, not going to move. Like it or not, Talion would have to help her. Too bad she had to tell him why.
Maggie sent him a pleading glance through her lashes. “A girl could use some help here.” Seeing him about to ask why, she added, “I pulled a muscle—or something.” Or something. That about summed it up.
Talion’s brows drew together, but he didn’t say anything. He knelt beside her and placed an arm around her waist. His hand slid over her injured side, and she couldn’t stop the moan of agony that escaped her lips. He froze before slowly lifting his hand away from her. “Maggie, you’re—” His gaze zoomed in on the blood on the blade that she held. “This is your blood,” he said hoarsely.
“Yeah,” she said on a ragged breath. “I was hoping to get out of here before you found out about that.”
“Why?” he demanded as he took off his cloak and overtunic. He folded up the tunic and rolled the cloak into a long piece of belt-like fabric. After positioning the tunic against her injured side, he wound the makeshift belt around her middle a few times to hold the “bandage” in place.
As the material pressed snugly against her, she winced but forced herself to answer him. “For this reason exactly. You’re worried, and too much of your focus is on me.”
“Let me decide how much is too much. You have to start trusting me.”
“I know, but now is not the time for this conversation.”
He nodded, and his lips set in a thin line. “You have the prophecy to fulfill. After that, you’re mine.”
She shivered. That sounded sort of ominous or kinky. But surely, Talion only meant he’d make sure she was attended to quickly and that he wouldn’t give her any say in it.
With his help, they made quick work of turning her to face Eamon. Thank god, Eamon still was unconscious. Though he was a first-class ass, everything within her rebelled at the thought of carving up his hand while he was awake.
The blade shook in her hand as Talion held Eamon’s palm for her. Beads of moisture popped up on her forehead. Whether it was due to a fever or nervousness, she couldn’t say. Her pain had faded to the background but was waiting to pull her under if she let it.
Where to cut? With sudden inspiration, she palpitated his palm. Something hard pressed back against her fingertips. Bingo!
As she inserted the knife’s edge under his skin, she gagged. There was blood, and it wasn’t her own this time. Damn it, she went into music education for a reason, and not nursing.
The tip of the knife bumped against something hard. She closed her eyes for a moment. Please don’t let that be bone. A glance showed her she hadn’t hit bone, but a little crystal ball about the size of a marble.
Talion placed his free hand over her knife-wielding one. “Steady.” The blade slipped under the spherical item and pushed it to the surface.
With a flick of the blade, the red-tinged orb came free and landed on the bed next to her. Maggie’s head swam, relief and repulsion swirling around in her stomach. Her job was done. She could pass out now. The act of breathing seemed like torture, and she couldn’t capture a good mouthful of air. Sleep sounded good.
Fighting to keep her eyes open, she glanced sideways at Talion. “Well, that was fun.”
Talion opened his mouth and appeared to be speaking to her, but it was as if she were watching him though a blurred window. He slid an arm around her shoulders and another under her legs. His concern—no, fright—for her bled through their bond.
The urge to reassure him she’d be okay roared to life, but her mouth refused to function correctly. The sound of something splintering—maybe the door—filtered to her ears. New voices filled the room. Had their reinforcements—
Blackness closed in on her, and she pitched forward into Talion’s chest.
***
Talion cradled Maggie to his chest as he sat on the edge of the bed. His gaze wildly searched for Avrin among the reinforcements and darkindred flooding the room. Oddly enough, not much fighting seemed to be occurring between the two factions. His concern for Maggie overrode any curiosity or puzzlement that the sight brought up. He’d have plenty of time to worry about the darkindred later. If there were a later….
He squashed the urge to search for Avrin himself. Carrying Maggie through the cave’s hallways wouldn’t be wise, and he refused to leave her in the hands of anybody else. Anger and helplessness sizzled though his veins until he wanted to skewer something.
One of the first soldiers to enter walked up to him and bowed. The elf’s gaze rested on Maggie for a moment. “Your Majesty, how may I be of service?”
By the Green Mountains, save him from obvious questions. “Find me Lord Avrin. Now,” he snapped.
The soldier bowed and rushed away. Talion hated sitting there, feeling powerless. Though he didn’t know if he’d be able to do anything for her wound, he had to take a look. With shaky fingers, he removed the makeshift bandage that was already stained with her blood.
What he saw made his insides turn to ice. On her side a deep puncture marred the area near her ribs. Blood still trickled from the wound. He closed his eyes, despair tugging on him. Though he’d seen much gorier wounds in his life, none had ever affected him so.
He had to do something, but what? At best, he could bind minor wounds and rattle off a few healing spells and the names of some healing herbs. Though numb lips, he mumbled off the most powerful of the weak spells he knew. The trickle slowed to a seep. That should make him breathe easier, but it didn’t.
Fear threatened to crush his chest into nothingness. Now that he had Maggie in his life, he couldn’t imagine his world without her. There wouldn’t be life without her.
He glanced down at her and froze. The blue of her lips sent terror ripping through his veins. Was it his imagination, or was her breathing too quick and shallow? Horror bit into him until he feared he’d lose his mind. By Eria’s veil, could it be her lungs?
What felt like minutes ticked by—and still no Avrin in sight. Out of all his people, his councilor was one of the most skilled healers in the land. Only he could be fully trusted to mend Maggie’s wound.
Talion stopped any soldier wandering nearby, but all said they hadn’t seen Lord Avrin at the last when they were storming the tunnels.
He ground his teeth and sent two more men to find Avrin and Relian. Not only was his councilor uncounted for, but Relian also had disappeared at around the same time. Had some rogue darkindred captured them? His already torn nerves shredded even further, and he blinked back the damn tears that wouldn’t leave his eyes alone.
; In the background soldiers rounded up the darkindred, a now standing Andrian among them. One of Kenhel’s captains, Teril, seemed to be questioning…his brother. Though nothing had been solved between him and Andrian—and the larger darkindred problem—he didn’t want anyone unnecessarily hurt. Enough damage had been done. Clearing his throat, he found the voice to call out, “Teril, question who you will, but take all alive that you can.”
The captain bowed. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
While Talion waited for Avrin and Relian, every second stretched into eternity. His life was collapsing around him, and he was doing nothing but sitting there as it crashed around his ears. He closed his eyes in an effort to calm his emotions. Maggie needed his help, not his hysteria.
Disgust at himself socked him hard in the gut. If he couldn’t find Avrin, some other person halfway skilled in healing would have to do. He opened his mouth to yell for the nearest soldier, but the words died on his tongue as Relian and four of the royal guard headed toward him.
Relief bathed Talion. At least, his son had come out unscathed. Now to ensure that Maggie would….
Halting a few feet from him, Relian sheathed his sword, though he kept a ready hand on its pommel. The guards stood a few feet behind him.
“What happened to your nose?” Relian asked, then stared at the precious cargo in Talion’s arms, apparently noticing Maggie for the first time. “How bad is Maggie injured?” Concern colored his voice.
Talion shook his head in a violent motion. “Badly enough. Where’s that damn councilor of mine? I sent a couple soldiers to look for him,” he said, trying and failing to keep the accusation from his tone.
“He’s out in one of the side tunnels, tending to a few wounded men.”
Talion’s heart constricted, but the option was easy. Call him selfish. His queen came first. “Bring him to me. Now,” he said, his voice rising on the last word until it was nearly a shout.
Relian nodded. “I will.”