Appreciating the warrior dragon’s support, Lyla scooped up the large teardrop beaded atop the lethal claw and drank from her cupped hands. “You’re always here for us. Thank you, Hellys.”
Head bowed, the powerful dragon sidled closer while shooting a meaningful look at Magnus. Perfect curlicues of smoke rose from her glistening nostrils. “I shall stand here at yer side, Divine One. Until it is over. I destroyed theDubh a’Ghiuthais,but I fear she still had time to send what remained of her magic to the vile Kcirred.” She eyed Lyla, slowly blinking as she lowered her muzzle even more. “I am honored to stay at the side of one so brave. I did not miss how valiantly ye battled him.”
“He is an old enemy,” Lyla said, still astounded that Derrick had lived and functioned in her world as an ordinary human when he’d really been a demon conjuring, soul-sucking druid who had tormented the Thirteenth Realm for however many hectrooms or hundreds of years it had taken him to find her and attempt to nullify the prophecy.
“Ipsillian and Lord Darkmist have brought him to the chief for judgment.” Hellys threw out her chest, watching her mate with pride as he threw Derrick at Magnus’s feet.
Fearing that the demon still had enough power to hurt them, Lyla tried to pull her guitar around to play it, but discovered it hanging in tatters down her back. It must’ve shielded her from a direct hit when one of Hellys’s blasts atDubh a’Ghiuthaistook out part of the tower’s roof and sent chunks of stone flying. Her violin had experienced the same fate.
She pulled the wooden Irish flute from her boot, but it had splintered. Somehow, she’d crushed it, and now that she lookedat it, she became aware of a distinct throbbing in the side of her calf. She’d probably be picking out splinters for a while.
She reached down into the other boot and smiled. The piccolo, thedevil’s whistle.How appropriate. She stood ready to pierce Derrick’s ears with the high-pitched instrument.
“What say ye, brother?” Talon asked, his pleasure and pride with the moment unmistakable. “To the abyss with him? A few hectrooms in the dungeons to give the guards a bit of entertainment?”
Magnus didn’t answer. He just stood there, his fingers resettling on the haft of his sword. Its blade glinted in the sun streaming through the breaking clouds, reflecting the light as if blazing with holy fire.
Cowering, Derrick glared up at him, baring his teeth like a cornered rat.
With a mighty swing, Magnus cleaved the man’s head from his shoulders. His expression calm and emotionless, he pointed his dripping blade at the dismembered body, and then the head. “Incinerate him, then take his ashes to the Highland Veil’s altar so it might feast upon our vengeance.” He nodded. “Let it be known that the same fate awaits any who threatens those I love.” Slowly turning, he tipped a nod at Hellys. “Gather the remains of theDubh a’Ghiuthaisand do the same, aye?”
Lyla clapped a hand over her mouth, gagging so hard she nearly turned herself inside out. She’d hated Derrick, but this? She lunged for the window, hung over the ledge, and retched, emptying her stomach of anything she’d even thought about eating for the past few days. Sagging down against the cracked stone shelf, she closed her eyes, then immediately forced them open, fighting against the image of Derrick’s severed head bouncing across the floor. She should’ve let Magnus spell her down to their rooms. She’d never get that horrible memory out of her mind.
Strong hands gripped her shoulders, then gently turned her. “It had to be done. IfDubh a’Ghiuthaisescaped the abyss, Kcirred might have escaped as well since he shared her knowledge. I could not risk it. He posed too great a danger to ye, and to the Realm.”
She held tight to him, digging her fingers into the wide leather armbands that protected his forearms. “I understand,” she said, then whirled away and vomited again, unable to get her mind to stop replaying the visual along with the grisly sound of a severed head plopping across the stone flooring. “Oh my gosh, I can’t stop seeing it.”
He scooped her up and cradled her to his chest. “Tutum.”
“Not the bed!” Hand over her mouth as they materialized in their bedchamber, she pointed at the privy screen.
Covering the distance in two long strides, he eased her down in front of the hinged close stool that held a clean chamber pot.
She dropped to her knees, dry heaving over it and wishing she could adequately describe a bubbly, ice-cold ginger soda and saltine crackers so he could manifest them with his magic. She’d never had such a weak stomach before. Of course, she’d also never witnessed a beheading.
He knelt beside her, holding back her hair. “Did they poison ye afore I destroyed them? Did I fail ye, my love?”
Propping her elbows on the wide wooden seat with the hole in its center, she held her head and tried not to relive the incident yet again. “No, I’ll be all right. It was just a little…graphic.” At least, she hadn’t passed out.
“Allow me to attend to her, my chief,” Albionna said from behind them. “Tern sent several teas to calm her.” She cleared her throat, then lowered her voice. “Sometimes this happens at the beginning.”
“At the beginning of what?” Magnus remained rooted to the spot beside Lyla, his broad, muscular form filling the private space meant for one.
Albionna cleared her throat again, then added just as softly, “The child, my chief.”
Lyla clenched her teeth, then risked turning away from the opening above the chamber pot. “It is not that. It’s way too early for that, and I still say Mairwen can’t possibly be right. There are too many factors that make that possibility highly unlikely.” She pulled in a deep, hitching breath. “I’m sick because I’m not used to…carnage.” She didn’t want to get too vividly descriptive until she’d consumed something to vomit back up. Dry heaves were painful. “I just need to clean up and lie down for a little while until my stomach settles.”
“I will assist her, my chief,” Albionna said. “Many have gathered in the solar to speak with ye.”
“Go,” Lyla told him. “I’m sure there is lots for you to do.” She weakly pushed him away, not entirely sure what a chief did when such a conflict ended, but it probably required his attention. A sudden realization hit her. The Thirteenth Realm no longer needed her. Bells and birdsong filled the air, along with singing and cheers drifting up to the open windows. No one was sick anymore, and without a demonic druid and his wicked sorceress, there probably wouldn’t be any additional ailments any time soon.
Wasn’t it ironic? She had become plain old Lyla Ibrams again. The mediocre, non-singing Lyla Ibrams, who didn’t have a purpose other than maybe teaching someone how to play a musical instrument. She rolled back on her heels, sagged down onto her butt, and leaned back against the wall, suddenly stricken with a nauseating case ofnow what?With a heavy sigh, she hung her head and covered her eyes, thoroughly ashamed of herself. She should be happy for the denizens of the Realm,but in reality, she was disappointed—for herself. Once again, she had become boring, easy-to-overlook Lyla. The invisible one.
Magnus lifted her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “Ye are not well, and I dinna wish to leave ye. When Talon and I heard the music of the pipes traveling across the land”—he gave her a haunted look filled with terror—“it struck such fear into me to hear their song because I knew ye’d gone to the tower.” He cupped her face in his hands. “My blood ran as cold as a Highland loch in winter. If I ever lost ye…”
She reached up and touched his cheek, running her thumb back and forth across the short, silvery bristles that she loved. “All the bad guys are dead now. You and Hellys made short work of them. Go. I know there has to be a lot left for you to do.”
He leaned forward to kiss her, but she turned her face away. “No. I’ve been puking and need to rinse my mouth and scrub my teeth. Albionna and I are going to have a long discussion about dental care and some of the items I need her or the Twanes or some talented person here to invent or conjure up with their magic.”
