Beauty's Beast - By Jenna Kernan Page 0,80
you, right out in the open for everyone to see. She left her people to side with ours.”
“She fought with us because she rightly believed that without our help the Skinwalkers and the Spirit Children would fail. She did not fight for us. She fought for the Balance.”
“Are you sure?”
“Certain.”
* * *
Samantha’s body burned and her joints ached. Someone was carrying her. Then she was lying still on soft bedding, a blanket covering her. A kiss pressed to her forehead, his scent earthy and familiar.
Her eyelids were so heavy she could not open them. She let herself sink back into darkness, escaping the pain.
The chanting woke her. She knew the chant. Her father had taught her this one for the healing of wounds and fractures. She blinked her eyes open. Her head was turned to the side, so she saw the bloody gash on her shoulder closing. The battle came back to her in a rush. She sat up and found herself in the circle and Blake performing the healing ceremony.
She scrambled to her feet and touched her cloak, finding that the energy to change the skin into jeans and a blouse was so taxing she swayed and toppled.
Blake caught her elbow. “I told you to stay with our forces. God, Sammy, you almost bled to death.”
Bled to death? She clutched her belly. The babies. Were they all right? She didn’t know, but the fear chilled the marrow of her bone.
“Sammy? Lie down before you fall down. You look terrible!”
She’d know, wouldn’t she, if she’d lost them? She crumpled back to the ground, dropping to her knees, one hand across her abdomen.
“Alon?” she asked.
“He dropped you here and went back to help the others. Retrieving souls.” Blake gave a shiver of revulsion.
She rubbed her forehead, feeling dazed, as if she’d been roused from a deep sleep. “What happened?”
“Nagi almost won. Would have won if not for the Ghost Children. You were right, Sammy.”
He told her all that had happened, assured her that their parents were safe. But many had died in the battle.
“Alon turned all of Nagi’s forces to our side, and he and the others have worked all day to restore the lost souls, ours included. He even organized the order for restoration, commanding that the healers be saved first. Sammy, without him, we’d all be dead.”
Samantha tried to take it in. She had known they couldn’t beat Nagi without the Ghost Children. But she had no idea how important they would be after the battle.
Souls. She pressed a hand to her clammy forehead. Had he retrieved all the souls or just hers? Had he saved their babies or had their tiny spirits slipped away with the night mist?
Samantha heaved. Blake rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’d better get Mom.”
“Where is Alon?”
“In the Ghostling camp.”
She had to find him.
“Samantha, we need your help. The injured.”
All she wanted was to see Alon, to be certain that this was not what she thought, that he had only brought her to her family to be healed. But her heart clenched with rising dread. Had he abandoned her?
“Dad sent Nicholas with an invitation to a treaty meeting. He has suggested that the three Halfling races sign an accord.”
“The Spirit Children will never sign it,” said Samantha.
“They might. They aren’t feeling so superior today. The Ghost Children frightened them before. Now they are terrified that they will rip out their souls.”
“I have to see him.” She pushed off the ground, rising to her feet, but swayed and fell back down, her head spinning.
“Sammy?”
“Dizzy.” She closed her eyes and still felt as if the ground were swaying.
“Because I can’t restore the blood loss. I can only fix what you still have. The buffalo are caring for the most grievously injured. Rest a bit. When you feel up to it, join us on the battlefield.” He released her hand and easily scooped her up, carrying her to a blanket beside rows of other Niyanoka. She closed her eyes against the dizziness and fear.
“Here’s Mom,” said Blake.
Samantha opened her eyes to see her mother striding toward her, looking exhausted, but her smile warmed Samantha to the core.
Her mother hugged Samantha and then pulled back to sit beside her in the flattened grass. Michaela Proud pushed an errant strand of hair from her child’s face.
“I watched you and your father from the hilltop. You two are likely to frighten me to death.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Her mother narrowed her eyes on Samantha, giving her an assessing look. “Are