And Mara held the door wide, all Bryn could feel was the echo of jealousy and fear pounding in her chest. She followed the girl down the long hallway, her heart in her throat and her mind whirling a mile a minute.
She was headed toward a disaster and had no idea what that could be.
Chapter Twelve
Sven
Alitta stopped Sven as he hurried toward his chamber. “What did they find out about Erik?”
He frowned as she grabbed his arm. “Erik? Is that what Lars wants?” He tried to continue on but she held him back.
“You don’t know?”
“Obviously not,” he snapped back. “I haven’t made it to the war room yet.” He took a step. “Let me go find out.” He glared at her. “And why do you know there’s been word of my brother before I do?”
She threw herself against him and wrapped her hands around his neck. “Because I keep my ears open to anything that concerns you.” She leaned up and kissed him. “That’s what mates do.”
“We’re not mates yet.” He pushed her off him and hurried down the hallway. He glanced back to see Alitta disappearing around the corner. “Bloody woman. How can someone I’m supposed to mate with be so annoying?”
He reached the door and swung it open before everything distorted.
The next moment, Sven stared at the ceiling while the world spun around him. He had no idea what happened. He had walked in the door and straight into the proverbial brick wall. One minute he was on his feet, the next, Martin was hunched over him shining a light in his eyes.
“What happened?” His tongue felt slick and swollen which made his words distorted.
“Just lay still. I’m not sure yet.”
He tried to make the words make sense in his head. Lars hovered in the background like a nervous midwife, but Sven couldn’t make himself respond to the humor.
He could feel the hard floor beneath him but he couldn’t feel how cold it was. He had made the mistake once of walking barefoot around the castle and almost ended up with frostbite.
Okay, exaggeration, but the floor was still cold.
Words floated around him.
“The toxin…”
“...move him…”
“Why now…”
“Paralysis…”
“...no antidote…”
“Get Bryn.”
Yes, he tried to say, but he no longer had control of his mouth. He focused on Bryn’s face. Her dark eyes. The way her hair floated around her shoulders. How she looked wrapped in a plastic shower curtain.
Words became no more than a dull buzz. Sven fought to focus on Bryn. If anyone could help him, she could, but he had no way to relay that to Martin.
“Stay with me, Sven.”
The doctor’s words broke through the haze. Maybe because he echoed Bryn’s command. Sven wanted to answer, but his lungs were refusing to do their job.
He heard Lars shout another harsh command tostay awake, then Martin’s sharp tone that he couldn’t quite make out. The ceiling blurred overhead as his eyes refused to stay open. His body was too heavy and crushed against his insides. He was dying.
Bryn.
