“She thirsts…and more.” Legion’s rasping voice sounded worried. “The poison grows stronger. She needs drink to dilute it.”
That convinced her that lying down again might not be the best idea. “If I can’t stand and walk, I’ll crawl over and get some ice to chew on.”
“Ye must not leave the fire,” raspy voice said in a harsher note of panic. “The witch has plunged the Pit to a level of coldness that even we, the dead, can feel.”
“There is something on the other side,” soft voice whispered. “Something is coming. Has Carman conjured a beast from the ice?”
Calia sagged back to the ground, lying so close to the fire it was a wonder she didn’t singe her hair. The slabs of stone layered across the base of the Pit were definitely colder than before, and the burning bones struggled to put out any heat to beat back the frigid temps.
“Mathison,” she whispered, hugging herself against the cold. “I need you.”
The flames of her campfire roared with renewed life, and every pile of bones scattered across the Pit and around the pillars ignited, their fires crackling and dancing to beat back the shadows.
She squinted past the fire in front of her, trying to make out who or what was headed her way. Her heart pounded harder, and she held her breath. That tall, broad-shouldered silhouette backdropped by the blinding brightness of the Pit’s uncontrolled blaze. That powerful stride. It had to be him.
“Please let it be him,” she whispered.
“Mo chridhe.” Mathison dropped to his knees and scooped her up into his arms. “My precious, precious one.”
A choked cry escaped her. She knotted her fists in his coat, then buried her face in his chest. “I love you. I should have told you before, but I didn’t, but you need to know I love you.” She nuzzled closer with each and every word. “I am so in love with you, I can’t even believe it myself.” Heaven help her, she hoped this was real. She hoped it wasn’t just a hallucination brought on by the cold and Bansys’s poison. “Please be real,” she whispered, pressing her face tighter against him and breathing in his warm, familiar scent of woodsy wilderness and the man who made her whole again.
His arms tightened around her. “I am real, mo chridhe, and I love ye with such a fury, it terrifies me.” He kissed her forehead and cuddled her closer. “But I welcome the terror of it. Ye’re the part of my story I’ve longed to discover. Ye are my happy ending, my ever after.”
“I’ve needed a happily ever after for so very long.” A boneless weightlessness fell across her, a buoyant sense of complete contentment. She closed her eyes, basking in its perfection.
“Forgive the intrusion, grand chieftain, but the poison rages strongly within her,” Legion’s raspy voice said.
“We could only gather our bones for her to burn,” soft voice said. “Ice for her to hold on her tongue eluded us.”
“They’ve taken wonderful care of me,” Calia argued without opening her eyes. Legion didn’t need to downplay all they’d done for her. “I promised we would do them the honor of a proper burial and a marker fit for the heroes that they are. We owe them that.” If only she could sleep a little while, surely she would be fine. Now that Mathison was here, everything would be all right. “I’m so tired. Let me rest for a few minutes, and then we can leave.”
“Drink this first.” He pressed a flask to her lips. “Danu’s healing herbs will strengthen ye.”
She swallowed the vile concoction. At least it was liquid, and she’d been so very thirsty. But her body raged with more pain, making her cry out as it seemed to fight the remedy’s power.
Mathison groaned. “Feckin’ hell. I was to wait until ye wore the wolfstone. Forgive me, mo chridhe.” He rocked her as if she were a wailing babe. “I fear if I place it on ye now, it will only make yer pain worse.” He cradled her to his chest as he stood. “We must make haste. I have to get ye to the Weavers because I am a damned fool and have thoroughly botched this.”
Racked with another painful, violent shiver, she curled closer. What he said didn’t make sense, and it also didn’t matter. At least he was here. At least he was alive. “It’ll be all right.” She weakly patted his chest. “But we can’t leave Legion behind. They’ve been trapped down here forever.” If Mathison had found a way in, surely Legion’s souls could follow them out.
Then another worry raked its claws across her consciousness as something deep and ominous rumbled in the distance. “The witches were using me as bait. You have to get out. Save yourself. Put me down and run. Now!”
“I dinna run from battle, nor do I leave behind those I love.” He started across the Pit, winding around the blazing pyres scattered across the way. “Join us, Legion. Ye served me well in life and even better in death. Come with us if ye will.”
The rumbling grew louder, making Calia clutch him even tighter. “I can’t lose you now that I just got you back. Put me down and go! Save yourself. As long as I know you’re safe, I can handle anything.”
He halted and brought his face so close to hers, his fierce expression blocked all else from view. “Together, we are stronger, and together, we shall stay.” He bared his teeth as stones rained down all around them. “Do ye understand me?”
The thought of his dying while trying to protect her was more than she could bear. She caught hold of the front of his tunic and ridiculously tried to shake him. “I need you safe and alive. Do you understand?”
“Stubborn woman.” He shook his head and continued onward, dodging debris falling all around. “If it takes me all the rest of my days to make it so, ye will learn to listen to me, ye ken?”
If she weren’t so afraid for him, she’d laugh, but as the rumbling increased and the Pit seemed to implode, the wound in her chest burned hotter as if trying to outpace the rest of the chaos. She clutched her fists to her sternum and pressed hard, biting her lip to keep from crying out. By damn, she was no wimp, but this was pain getting real.
“Give her to me, mighty Cain’s grandson,” said a voice from high above that she didn’t recognize. Was it an angel? Was she dying? It was male and melodic, booming and deep, yet oh so musical and pleasing to the ear.
“These pitiful pebbles are a mere annoyance to our wings,” said another voice from just as high overhead. A female angel this time. None of Legion’s voices had been female. And wings? What was that about wings? These two had to be angels. Had they come to take her away?
“Mathison, I don’t want to go with them. I don’t want to die.” Something was pulling her out of his arms. “Mathison!” And why couldn’t she see? Her eyes were open. Why couldn’t she see? “Mathison—if they’re taking me away, promise you’ll take care of Otto! And tell him I love him!”
