She drew hard for breath, and he slid even closer to her, leaning over her until they were looking deeply into each other’s damp eyes.
“Don’t do this,” he begged roughly. “Do not tell me this because you think you are going to die. I will not let you leave me. You have tried every way to escape me and I will not let you go now that you have finally acquiesced.”
He drew in an unsteady breath, trying to empower a shattering voice. He brought his hair-tangled hand to her face, cradling it as his thumb brushed her dry lips. “You will survive this day and hunt the ones responsible for this with me, by my side where you belong, now and every moment in the future. You will survive this injury and will be in my arms once again, feeling my touch and my kiss on your precious skin, the softness of which will never cease to drive me mad.” Siena’s tears dropped into her hair, just as Elijah’s touched her parched lips. “You will survive this to tell me you love me the way that I have come to love you. In a strong voice, with light shining in your beautiful eyes and your body wrapped around me the way your soul is wrapped around my heart.”
Unable to do anything else, Siena simply nodded. Once again he reached to catch her tears on his gentle fingertips.
“Don’t cry, kitten. You know it kills me when you do.”
Then stop making me cry these tears, Elijah. I never have done such a thing, until you joined my life.
“Then I am certainly to blame, love. Just as you are to blame for mine.” He smiled against her fingers as he kissed them gently in their place woven between his. “You have reduced me to an emotional woman,” he sighed.
Siena laughed, coughing harshly immediately afterward, driving the humor out of his eyes.
“Shh,” he soothed insistently.
She nodded, searching his face for a long minute, as if committing it to memory. She extended her fingers, touching his mouth tenderly. Her eyes, her emotions, her thoughts were full and bursting with her feelings for him, and it made his heart pound to feel it. But as promised, she said nothing, and would say nothing, until the moment she could meet his criteria. For the moment, she exhaled, closed her eyes, and drifted into sleep, her last thoughts urgently praying to the Goddess for her sister’s swift return.
The sooner she could hold him again, the better.
Gideon rose about twenty minutes after Damien had left Noah, who had returned to his sister’s bedside in order to maintain her status. The medic was as yet barely well enough to walk, but like Elijah, could not be kept from the mate who needed him as soon as possible.
Noah looked up with surprise when Gideon entered the room. The medic was powerful, but Noah had never suspected he could come back from the brink of death so quickly.
“It is no miracle,” Gideon said roughly as he staggered over to his wife’s side, sitting down beside her still body on the mattress. He swiftly took her face between his hands as he tried to look into her physiology. “Merely my usual ability to heal.”
Gideon raised a hand to silence the King’s further questions or remarks, his eyes closing as he tried to concentrate on undoing his own complex work. Noah watched carefully as Gideon broke into a sweat, feeling the Ancient’s energy fading quickly while Legna remained as motionless as ever.
As unobtrusively as he could, Noah reached mentally for his brother-in-law, slowly trickling energy into him. The flow expanded exponentially over the next few minutes until the grayish tone disappeared from Gideon’s complexion completely. Soon he was flush with his normal tanned skin tone, energy flaring through him in abundance.
Noah stopped pushing energy onto the Ancient when he began to get feedback in the connection he had formed between them. He exhaled as he drew back, tilting his head to stretch out the muscles that had bunched around the back of his neck. He then watched with amazement as wounds across Gideon’s hands, chest, and face began to heal with impressive speed even as Legna drew her first breath in hours.
Noah made a low sound of relief when he saw her skin pinking up. She stirred, yawned widely, as if all she had been doing was sleeping. Her silver eyes opened and looked up into those mirrored in her mate. She smiled at him and reached for his mouth with hers. She kissed him with tenderness and affection, just as she did every morning when she woke. It wasn’t until he broke from her mouth and dragged her into his arms almost desperately that she realized something was wrong. He was terrified, or just being released from terror, his thoughts and his heart pounding in a turmoil of fear and relief.
Slowly she realized she was in her childhood bedroom and that her brother was drawing in harsh breaths of equal relief, pushing out of his chair and moving to look out the window in an attempt at hiding the emotion coursing through him. But he could not hide it from her keen empathy, no matter where or how far he distanced himself from her.
Between the two of them, Legna was overwhelmed.
“What happened?” she asked, her throat tight with their unshed feelings.
“All is well, Nelissuna,” Gideon hushed her gently, burying his face in her silken hair. “You are well, the baby is well, and we are all safe now.”
Noah clearly could not bear to listen a moment longer. Without a word, he turned and left the room. Magdelegna felt his pain twist in her chest like a knife, and because she felt it, Gideon did.
She pulled away to inspect her husband more carefully, momentarily discarding her worry over her brother, seeing the splotchy patterns of newly healed skin all over Gideon’s face, arms, and chest.
“Gideon! What happened!” she demanded with a gasp, her eyes misting over as everything she was feeling finally came to a head. “Why is Noah so frightened? Why are you injured?”
Gideon took in one long breath, and then began to tell her.
CHAPTER 16
The peregrine falcon fluttered into the room, landing on the back of a chair as it shook out its wings and feathers. Shortly after, a single mourning dove, its coloring a beautiful combination of tans and soft grays, flew in after it. The dove settled on the seat of the chair fearlessly, as if the falcon above it was not normally a predator to it. It mimicked the rustling of feathers the falcon made.
Moments later, Syreena was standing behind the chair and the dove had blossomed into a fragile young woman with soft, brown and gray streaked hair and large blue eyes that looked as innocent as a child’s and just as wide. She wore a soft dress of white cotton, unlike the Princess, who had to retrieve the dress from where it had fallen over the windowsill when she had changed earlier.
Siena was surrounded by people by this time. Blessed darkness had been upon them for many hours by then, and with it came new strength for the Demons and the Lycanthropes. Syreena had wasted no time in guiding the Mistral back, knowing that if they did not hurry, they might have been forced to delay their travel to avoid the daylight. The female Mistral had her own adverse reactions to the Nightwalker-unfriendly sun. Luckily, the mourning dove could almost equal the fiercely fast flight of the falcon, only slowing down the return voyage by a few miles per hour or so.
The Mistral Siren rose to her bare feet, the soft elegance of the movement riveting to all who watched. Her fairylike beauty and fragility were quite breathtaking to male and female alike, her motions and the flawless flow of her graceful body a symphony of delicacy. It was said the Mistrals could cast spells with their beauty as well as their song, and looking at this frail creature made the other Nightwalkers believe it.
Siena was apparently the one with the most exposure to this reclusive race, so everyone watched with interest and fascination as the female neared them, her soft hair floating in a cloud around her shoulders as she moved.
“Windsong,” Siena greeted her with a croak. She was looking only slightly better as the darkness comforted her.
Elijah still sat beside her, his fingers remaining laced within hers. Only now, he was healed almost to perfection himself, his battle wounds that had been ignored all of this time healed because Gideon had visited him directly after he had t
endered healing and a retelling of his tale to his mate.
The Siren paused a moment when she took note of all the people around the Queen’s sickbed. She blinked, pushing back her fears of strangers with a surprising will that drew Legna’s sensitive attention. Legna had felt the keen anxiety, but above it she felt whatever debt of gratitude and sincere emotion it was that Windsong felt for Siena. The Mistral felt clear and nearly debilitating pain when she first saw the Queen’s endangered health. To Legna’s experienced senses, it was as if the creature was an empath, but a physical one rather than perhaps a mental one. She seemed to be feeling those injuries much in the way Legna would feel sadness or joy from another being.
Windsong moved closer to the grouping as she placed a silencing finger on her lips while looking meaningfully at the injured Queen. The Mistral looked from Siena to Syreena, then turned back with a silent brow cocked.
Elijah sat up slightly.
“She says, ‘Yes, this is the Princess you saved one hundred years ago,’” he interpreted for his mate as she spoke into his mind.
The Mistral’s expression turned to surprise and speculation as she looked from the Demon warrior to the Queen, her full mouth quirking into a serene smile.
“Yes,” Elijah said again, becoming Siena’s only voice. “We are mated.” Then he clearly spoke for himself. “Can you help her? She is in tremendous pain.”
Again, in utter silence, the Siren glanced at Gideon, Legna, Syreena, and Anya. Those huge, blue porcelain eyes then flicked back to Siena.
“She wants everyone but…but ‘the star-child’ to leave,” Elijah explained, sounding as puzzled as everyone looked as soon as he said it. “Who is the star-child?”
The Siren smiled again, her angelic face lighting up as she reached toward Legna and gently touched her face with elegant fingers. Then she let that gentle touch fall to Legna’s belly.
“She means the baby,” Gideon murmured thoughtfully. “Star-child?”
“Siena doesn’t understand it either,” Elijah said with a shrug.
“How is Siena communicating with her?” Anya asked, as bemused by the exchange as all of them.
“Telepathy…left between them because of…” Elijah furrowed his brow slightly. “The Spirit-singing. What is a Spirit-singing?”
The Siren moved closer to Siena, nodding as if giving permission, as she sat down gently on the bed. Elijah didn’t even feel her weight shift the mattress in the slightest as she did so. He turned his attention to Siena’s thoughts filling his mind with explanation.
“The Spirit-singing is an exchange between a Mistral and another where…a part of the one’s spirit is borrowed to help heal another’s. In this case, Syreena was the recipient of that shared spirit when Windsong borrowed from Siena’s spirit to heal her decades ago during a childhood illness. It left Siena and Windsong with a telepathic connection that switches on whenever their spirits come close to each other.”
“How come I never heard of this?” Syreena asked in wonderment, looking from her sister to the enigmatic Siren.
“Because it is an intimate, secret exchange and Siena was not allowed to speak of it until given permission.” Elijah then looked up questioningly at the Mistral. “She says I need to stay. I understand that, but why does Legna?”
There was silence between the relays of the telepathic trio and finally Elijah looked at Legna.
“She says she will need me for the Spirit-singing, to borrow from my spirit to heal Siena. As her mate, I am the best candidate.”
“But—” Syreena began.
“She says that you are too complex to be a part of this, that your exposure to dual spirits, yours and Siena’s, was responsible for the alteration in your genetic code. She had never Spirit-sung for Lycanthropes before and it was an unexpected side effect. I am…” He paused for words. “I am now sharing my spirit with Siena’s already, as she shares mine, so there will be less chance of ill effects.”
“So this is not a foolproof method. There can be damage?” Gideon asked. “That makes me question Legna’s being present for this even more.”
“The danger is only to myself and Siena,” Elijah continued. “She says the star-child will protect Legna and that…” Elijah blinked and looked at Siena for a confused moment that made it clear he was unable to understand what she was trying to tell him for a moment. When he spoke he still sounded confused. “She says she has given your son permission to listen to the singing.”
Elijah laughed with disbelief. That is, until he saw Gideon’s expression. Legna reached behind herself to grasp her husband’s hand, her eyes growing wide as she received his startled thoughts.
“She knows it is a boy,” he said aloud. The medic suddenly realized there was more power and ability to this enigmatic species then he had come to know even during his long life. “I could not help but find out just by touching my wife once I realized she was with child, and, of course, as soon as I knew, Legna knew. We had decided we would not tell anyone else, that we would let it be a surprise. But I suppose that is no longer an issue.” Gideon looked at the Siren with narrowed, perplexed mercury eyes. “How can you talk to an unborn child? I may not know much about your species, but the fetus is barely six months—”
“I did not talk to the babe. The babe talked to me.”
It was the first time she had used her voice, and suddenly everyone there understood why. It was musical and sweet, full of every amusement, every sadness she had ever known in her life. It was a seduction and a comfort. It was bewitching in every way a thing of pure beauty could be. Everyone was enthralled by it, the spell of it holding them rapt and silent for a long minute. Gideon was the first to draw a cleansing breath.
“My son talked to you?” he asked roughly, his hand reaching to cover Legna’s on her belly. There was no explaining the sensation of wonderment and elation that rushed over the couple.
“She said…” Elijah paused to clear his throat. “She says your son is a powerful being and soon will be able to speak to you as well, even from the womb. She says…” Elijah found himself smiling in spite of himself. “She says he has his father’s power and his mother’s temperament.”
Legna laughed, unable to help herself as delight rushed through her. She turned to Gideon and kissed him, excitement and enthusiasm rushing over her.
“I want to stay,” she said.
Once the room was cleared of all except the patient, her mate, and the fascinated mother of the so-called star-child, Windsong touched Siena’s hair gently, tsking with her tongue at the lank, brittle feel of the usually brilliant curls.
She smiled, touching the couple’s still joined hands and nodding once. It was clear that she wanted them to remain thusly joined, and it was a good thing because Elijah had no intention of letting go.
His heart was racing in spite of Siena’s attempts to reassure him. He did not like the idea of being helpless, as he would reportedly become, but he cared more about Siena becoming well than he did about his own safety at that point. The anxiety was only natural.
The first sound to blossom out of the Mistral was a hum, a haunting vibration from its very inception. It only took a minute after that for Siena, Elijah, and Legna to fall into a deep, healing sleep.
None of them would ever know what happened after that.
None but the unborn child, who wasn’t about to give any secrets away.
Legna opened her eyes slowly, taking a breath, knowing instantly that she had never felt so rested, so at peace, as she did in that moment. All of this in spite of her years of accomplished meditation, which brought her to a similar state. She looked at the pale and beautiful countenance smiling down at her. Windsong reached for Legna’s belly and without speaking sent emotions of warmth, gratitude, and absolute delight to the empathic female Demon.
Legna understood, though with bemusement. The Siren was thanking her for the privilege of being allowed to sing before her baby.
“You are welcome,” Legna said softly
. “Are they well?” she asked, glancing at the sleeping couple in the bed who now lay tenderly curved around one another’s bodies. Elijah’s large form blocked Legna from seeing Siena.
The Mistral female nodded and smiled wider.
Then she tilted her head, that cloud of airy hair shifting position with a swirl.
“I have foretold the future to your child,” that chiming voice said softly. “And because he is yours, I will allow you to know it and remember it when you become aware once again.” She took Legna’s dazed face between her slim, cool hands, knowing the empath was already floating in that world of subawareness her speaking voice had sent her to. “Your baby will lead your people into a new era, just as the one who came before him will. Together they will change the world as you know it. They will lead the other children who will come of this time of change into a millennium of remarkable destiny and bliss. In this lies my future as well, and I am grateful to you for creating part of what will make this so. Remember my prophecy as the ages pass,” she instructed softly. “May it give you the comfort it has given me.”
Then, without waiting for clarity to return to the Demon mother, the Mistral turned into the mourning dove and flew out the window, reeling away on the wind as if sheer joy lifted her wings to the heavens.
Legna was smiling when she became aware once again. Forgetting everything else, she leapt from her chair, knocking it over heedlessly as she raced to find her husband and tell him everything she could remember.
Elijah woke to the sparkling sensation of a warm, lush mouth rubbing against his.
He opened his eyes, and then opened them quite a bit more when he saw the familiar golden gaze of his mate glowing with life and mischief in her gold-and-pink splotched face.
A face healed of all blisters, only new skin that would soon fade to normal, luxurious, beautiful gold once more in what promised to be no time at all.