His soft chuckle lacked any humor. “I didn’t say that, Imogen. You did.” He crossed his arms. “No, I’m not immune, only resistant and only by the Waters’ grace. I die a little more each time you touch me.”
“You bastard,” she whispered. “You would make me your redeemer.”
He’d likely been called names far fouler than “bastard” in his long life and in circumstances far more hostile, but he flinched for a moment at her insult, or maybe the betrayal in her voice. An echo of all the betrayals he participated in over the years.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Imogen,” he snapped. “No man, woman or god can redeem me now. Even if I’m to die, it will simply be to escape the prison of Tineroth. However, the wraiths who wait in twilight with me will find peace once I’m dead.”
Imogen rubbed her eyes and looked to where the mist hovered nearby. She remembered Niamh, the silent pleading in her eyes that Imogen end her suffering with a merciful yet fatal touch. Was this so different?
She stared at Cededa, a king immortal but not invincible. A flawed, weary man. A man she loved despite all she’d just learned. “I want to go to my rooms.” He stood and bowed as she passed. The weight of his gaze rested on her back long after she left him on the steps.
As usual, warm water and freshly laundered cloths awaited her. Imogen shed her skirt and tunic, bathed and slid naked beneath the bedcovers, almost numb with grief. She fell asleep, clutching the pillow Cededa had used the night before.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
In the darkest hours, the Undying King entered her room on silent feet and stood sentinel by her bed, admiring her beauty. The knowledge of his sins had aged her. Fine lines marred her brow, and she muttered in her sleep.
He wanted to reach out, draw her into his embrace and somehow force her to believe that Cededa the Butcher was as dead as Cededa the Fair. Only the ghosts remained to haunt him and remind him of a past evil for which he’d never receive absolution.
As if she sensed his regard, her eyes fluttered open and she rolled to her side to face him. They gazed at one another long moments before she lifted the covers away in wordless invitation.
Forgiveness. The gesture nearly sent Cededa to his knees. He stripped and slipped beneath the covers to gather Imogen’s warm body close. She spooned against him, still silent but pliant in his arms. He buried his face in her hair. The memory of her accusation echoed in his mind.
“You would make me your redeemer.”
How very wrong she was. “I would make you my wife,” he whispered in her ear. “My only wife. My beloved wife.”
Melancholy thickened her voice, and her fingers lay cold over his. “I don’t want to hate you the way they did.”
His chest constricted. “I don’t want that either, Imogen.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m no longer that man.”
“Aren’t you?”
Cededa pressed on her shoulder until she lay on her back, face tilted to his. Tear tracks silvered her pale cheeks. “No, I’m not.” What else was there to say?
Imogen sighed and closed her eyes. “Everything you’ve done in your long years, everything you feel, is part of who you are now. The question is whether or not the greater part is the man who committed atrocities or the one who regrets them.”
He wanted to tell her that regret and guilt ran through his veins like death ran through hers, but he stayed silent. That question was hers to answer for herself.
Her hand drifted down his arm in a languid caress. “I never thought I’d meet a king,” she said in a sleepy voice. “Especially a fabled one.”
Cededa hugged her to him. Her breathing slowed, and her body grew heavy against his. “I never thought I’d hold Death,” he whispered in the darkness. “Or beg her love and mercy.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Dradus’s nose bled red streamers onto his silk tunic, and his skull threatened to split from the pain, but those were minor discomforts compared to the euphoria coursing through him. An ancient bridge shimmered to life under the power of complex sorcery. It stretched across the gorge, still insubstantial but solidifying with each passing moment. A bridge that connected him to fabled Tineroth and her surely substantial treasures.
The company of Castagher soldiers behind him cheered. After weeks of idle waiting while he cast spell after spell to reveal the bridge, they were restless, eager for battle and ready to conquer the city behind the heavy mists obscuring the forest on the crevasse’s opposite side. Dradus nodded to the captain of the guard.
“Remember, the men are welcome to whatever loot they can carry out, but they can’t forget their mission. We bring the girl back to Hayden, alive.”
The captain frowned. “If she’s cursed as you say, it will be a challenge to transport her.
Dradus shrugged. “A small matter. Leave it to me. Just be sure not to let her touch you when you catch her.” One eyebrow rose meaningfully. “It’s easy to subdue an unconscious captive.”
“Aye, I see your point.” The captain gestured to his troop. “I’ll tell them to prepare. We ride to Tineroth at your signal.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
