Three steps.
His heart was beating too fast, each contraction slicing him as if someone were stabbing shards of glass straight into his aorta.
He dropped his sword—his fingers couldn’t hold it—and closed his arms around her. “My love, my light . . . Don’t leave me.”
*
She stood submerged within the black current of the magic river. The red pockets of magical essence washed over her one by one, glowing weakly, and she absorbed them in a cascade of euphoria.
No thoughts. No worries. Just freedom and bliss.
Another wash of red splashed against her. She tasted it and recoiled. It tasted too familiar. She hadn’t taken it. It was freely given, but everything in her rebelled against consuming it. How could this be?
She forced herself to sample the essence, letting it permeate her. It streamed along her, coursing through her, so unbelievably delicious. Wrong. It was wrong. Her magic shrank from it.
She strained, trying to identify it. There had to be a reason.
Richard!
He was Richard.
She heard a voice from a great distance. It cloaked her, separating her for a brief second from the darkness.
My love, my light . . . Don’t leave me.
She was killing him. She was draining his life, drop by precious drop.
No! No, she didn’t want it. Take it back! Take it all back!
She tried to reverse the flow and send life back into him, but the current gripped her, smothering her, trying to banish reason. She felt herself drowning and fought against it with everything she had.
No! I am the Healer. You’re part of me. You are part of me. You will obey me.
Pain flooded her, the current hammering against her body. Hundreds of pinpoint needles pierced her, burning her. The agony overwhelmed her, and she melted into blinding pain.
If she gave up now, Richard would die.
Charlotte ripped through the pain. A golden glow coated her. The current of the dark river shrank from it.
You will obey.
The pain was excruciating. She screamed, although she had no voice. The glow shot from her, igniting the river into a radiant gold. Her magic boiled.
The darkness fell apart. She saw Richard’s prone body in the dead grass and dropped to her knees next to him.
Don’t die. Please, don’t die.
She pushed, but no magic came. There was nothing left of it, neither light nor darkness.
Richard was barely breathing.
She strained, trying to pull on that roiling gold. The magic buckled inside her, threatening to rip her apart, but would not obey. Pain exploded inside her in excruciating bursts of agony. Charlotte tasted blood in her mouth.
Tiny specks of blood formed on her skin, coming out of her pores. Finally her voice obeyed, and she screamed, the pain streaming out of her. It felt like she was dying. She almost wanted to die just to end the agony, but she had to save him.
Obey me. Work. You will work.
Something broke inside her.
Her magic burst out of her, the gold so potent, it lifted him above the ground. Her power bound them into one. Everything she had taken, every life she had stolen, all of it went into Richard. She drenched him in the healing gold, again and again, hoping against hope that he would live.
Come back to me. Come back to me, love.
It felt like her body was melting. She had to hold on. She had to heal him.
“Come back to me. I love you so much.”
He opened his eyes.
She didn’t believe it. It was a trick.
He raised his hand. His fingers touched her lips. “I love you, too.” He pushed from the ground and sat up.
She collapsed on his chest and surrendered to the pain.
*
RICHARD sat by the heavy wooden doors. Behind them, the healers of Ganer College worked on Charlotte. He’d thought she had fallen asleep from exhaustion. It took him five precious hours to realize she couldn’t wake up. He’d loaded her into a phaeton and drove at a breakneck speed to Ganer College. He walked through the gates, carrying her, and people came and took her away from him. He followed them through the labyrinth of hallways and stairs to this corridor and this room, where they shut the doors in his face, and he’d been sitting here for hours, not knowing whether she would live or die. A man had brought him a platter of food at some point, but he felt no need to eat. He got up a few times to relieve himself in the bathroom two doors down.
He was so monumentally angry.
The two of them had done so much, they had sacrificed so much, and after all of that, now she would die. He wanted to rage and punch the walls at the unfairness of it, but instead he had to sit still. He tried picturing going home without her and couldn’t.
If she died . . . What was the point?
“There is often no point. Seeking some sort of justification in the flow of life is useless,” a woman said.
He looked up. An elegant, older woman stood before him, tall and very thin, with dark hair and intense penetrating gaze.
“Will she live?”
“Yes. She’s resting now.”
Relief flooded him.
“My name is Lady Augustine al Ran. Walk with me, Richard. There are some things we must discuss.”
He rose and followed her down the hallway. “Are you reading my mind?”
“No, I’m reading your emotions. You’re drowning in bitterness. I’m a sensate, and over the years, I’ve become very good at connecting the dots.”
They reached another set of doors. He held them open for her. She strode through. He went after her and found himself in a long, stone breezeway about fifty feet off the ground. A roof sheltered it from the elements, but the large, arched windows had no glass, and the breeze blew through them. The sun was out, its light bright and golden. When he’d brought Charlotte in, night was falling.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“It’s late morning,” she said. “For you it is tomorrow. You’ve spent the last fourteen hours waiting.”
“Has it been that long?”
“Yes.”
His anger was melting into the wind, carrying off his bitterness. He felt . . . calm.