Julias was Mrs. Kirby’s fourteen-year-old bulldog. “Julias doesn’t like anyone. He’s a grumpy old man with asthma and arthritis. Just talk sweetly to him. Loudly, since he’s also going deaf, but sweetly. He won’t bite.”
“So, you’re really going to do this?”
“I’m really going to do this. Have the board email the paperwork and have your lawyer do whatever needs doing, so you can take over my practice.”
“I will.” Extended silence again. “Lexi?”
“Yes?”
“We’ll keep in touch—right? We are besties.”
“Of course,” Lexi lied while struggling not to cry. “Of course, we’ll keep in touch.”
“All right. I’ll let you go, then.”
“Big hugs, Mags.”
“Big hugs, Lex.”
* * *
Barricadedin his private wing of the palace, Jeros sat slumped over in his chair. Gads alive. The pain of letting Mairwen rip Lexi away had almost killed him. If not for Darkcord dragging him to safety, the assassins would have gone for him next, since their previous target, as ordered by the queen, had disappeared. His father admitting that his brothers were idiots didn’t mean one of them wouldn’t be placed next in line for power. Especially since they would be puppets controlled by whatever faction had the upper hand at that time. His father had best watch his back. Jeros had seen a thirst for power in his mother, Queen Nyna’s eyes. A thirst so strong, she would do anything to quench it.
“We must return to Sevenrest,” Darkcord said, “immediately.”
“I dinna ken if I have the strength, old friend.” Jeros raked a hand through his hair, then clutched it to his chest. “I felt the tear, the ripping away, as the old one took her back to her world. I fear the goddesses will never let her return.”
His sword drawn, Darkcord anxiously paced in front of the entrance to the suite. “She will find a way, and so will ye. Gather yer wits now and take us back. The palace assassins and guards are a weak, cowardly lot that canna do anything without an element of surprise, but the two of us canna hold their numbers off forever. We must get to Sevenrest and ensure our guard is ready.”
Jeros lifted his head and checked to ensure that Lexi’s maid and seamstresses were gathered close and ready. The women watched him with tears in their eyes and noses red from crying at the tearing away of their mistress. He understood. Lexi had touched everyone with her kind heart and generous nature.
“Domus,” he uttered, his hands fisted with the effort. When he opened his eyes, he was relieved to see his magic had held strong and returned them all to Sevenrest. With the loss of Lexi a raw open wound, he had feared the worst. Once bound, magical beings needed their mates almost as badly as they needed air to breathe.
Cowering, Rill eased closer. “What would ye have me do, Yer Highness?”
“Do?”
She shuffled in place, wringing her hands. “With her ladyship’s things? And my duties? What shall I do?”
Jeros swallowed hard. “Keep her things as perfect as if she were still here. She canna live among us, but her memory can. Until the Realm deserves her return, until it has earned her trust and her presence, her memory is all we have of her. Pray we can survive with what little comfort that brings.”
The maid curtsied, then scurried away, her despondent weeping echoing down the halls. The softly sniffling seamstresses flitted away in a poof of sparkling mist.
Jeros stumbled his way to a chair and dropped into it. Perhaps it would have been better if he had allowed the assassins to take him. Anything would be better than this pain.
“Will the goddesses grant her a return to the Realm? ’Tis rare for a mortal to pass through the mists more than once.” Darkcord sheathed his sword and moved to the liquor cabinet in the corner of the library. He poured a pair of whiskies, brought them over, and placed one in Jeros’s hand. “Is there hope, my prince? Or are we doomed to ages of darkness and war, as the prophecy foretold?”
“Mortal women may travel back and forth through time as often as they wish, because they are the life bringers. But I dinna ken if the feckin’ goddesses will bend and allow her passage into the Realm after the way she was rejected.” He downed the whisky in one burning gulp. “The queen fears the Fifth Kingdom will take her power, and the king has become a complacent coward. The Realm does not deserve the likes of my precious Lexi.”
“Another?” Darkcord reached for Jeros’s glass.
“Aye. As many as the bottle holds.” Jeros went to the windows and watched his elite guard spanning out to fortify Sevenrest’s boundaries. If the magical wards failed to stop any intruders, his warriors would not. His men were lethal and dedicated. Without them, the Realm would surely fall to the Fifth Kingdom. But Jeros didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, his parents, the king and queen, had forfeited their right to rule.
Darkcord joined him at the window and handed him the drink. “I was surprised the old one agreed so readily to help ye.”
“Mairwen has been known to be reasonable on occasion—especially when the mate bond has already strengthened her beloved Veil.” But many had often questioned if the bond and its fortifying of the Veil still held when mates were separated for whatever reason. Death severed the bond and weakened the Veil. What would separation into different worlds, different realities do? The sadness weakened Jeros, but he would survive. However, would his and Lexi’s precious bond hold? Especially once she found herself back in the familiarity of her world?
He closed his eyes, shutting away that disastrous possibility. “Ye spoke to the guard. Any dissenters?”
