“No. NO!”
The wind taunted him as it brought the scent of her blood. Westley grabbed Solveig’s lifeless face between his hands and pressed his forehead to hers. He concentrated as hard as he could on that living current of magic beneath his skin, willing it into her cold and clammy body.
“You do not get to die.” His heart ached like never before. He couldn’t breathe. “Live, Solveig, live.” His voice cracked. Tears trickled down his face and onto her cheeks. He tasted the salty water as he let them flow freely, bringing her entire body to his, holding her against him.
“Please,” Westley begged, his voice barely above a whisper, for that was all the sound he could muster.
He willed his essence into her, forcing her soul to remain in her body, using his lifeforce to keep her tethered to this world. He prayed to whoever was listening.
“Do not take her,” he pleaded.
“How is this possible?” Conalle whispered, but Westley couldn’t focus on him. There was only her.
Please live, please live, please live, he chanted over and over again.
“West . . .” Noren started.
He ignored him too.
“Westley, it’s working!” Conalle said in astonishment.
The words registered and he opened his eyes, holding his breath while studying the female in his arms. Her skin was still cold, but colour crept ever so slowly up the sides of her face.
“Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop,” Noren whispered. Westley glared at his oldest friend, his disdain causing Noren to put his hands up and back away. Westley turned his attention back to Solveig.
The plant mixture had done its job, staunching the bleeding and stopping the flow of poison. The three Fae males watched in amazement as the black veins gradually began to dissipate.
Though her eyes remained closed, the rise and fall of her chest became deep and steady, her breathing no longer raspy.
Another wave of tears fell from Westley’s eyes, soaking into her skin as he held her close, willing her to live. He pushed every emotion he was feeling into her, into the connection between them, until her magic responded.
It reached out to him, curling into his soul, and he gave her everything he had.
At her gentle stir in his arms, he expelled a relieved laugh, hugging her close and reflexively kissing the top of her head, his lips coming away rather tingly. He took her face in his hands, watching with rapt attention as she opened her eyes. Light flared as her gaze settled upon him.
Relief overpowered his senses.
“You’re welcome,” he whispered on an exhale, the suffocating weight lifting off his chest. She tried to shove him, eyes rolling. She wasn’t strong enough to actually push him away, but he reluctantly let her go. Conalle swooped in to hug her as Helle stood, her huge body jostling them.
“That was a close one,” Solveig breathed, voice hoarse.
Conalle laughed. “Too close, Sol, too close.” The lord embraced her again before leaning back to take a good long look at her. “How are you feeling?”
“Like death.”
Westley winced at her choice of words—she had been too close, and didn’t need reminding. He watched with rapt attention as she took a deep breath and heaved herself up, her forehead beading with sweat at the effort.
“Come on, Sol, let’s get you cleaned up.” Conalle helped her to her feet, slinging her arm around his shoulders. Westley could only stare as she walked away from him.
Like she could sense his gaze, she raised her middle finger without turning around. His body flooded with relief and joy.
When they were out of sight, he rounded on Noren, grabbing his shirt in a tight fist. With the adrenaline leaving his body, there was room for the rage he had shoved aside in favour of saving Solveig’s life.
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know ...” Noren’s voice trailed off.
“You didn’t know what?” Westley growled.
