Nefri,” he urged softly. “This isn’t a shrine to loss.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s a symbol of hope.” Plucking the gown off the shelf, he shook it beneath her nose. A dead wife didn’t need a new gown and her favorite shoes. “He wasn’t saying good-bye, he was preparing to be reunited with the woman he adores.”
“Impossible,” she denied, even as her eyes darkened with a growing dismay.
He understood her reluctance to consider the thought that her clansman might be a raving lunatic beneath his careful façade.
Hell, Santiago didn’t want to believe it.
Even after Gaius had abandoned him.
But they didn’t have the option of sticking their heads in the sand.
“Perhaps, but if the Dark Lord was able to convince Gaius he could return Dara, do you think there’s anything he wouldn’t do to make it happen?” he asked, waving a hand toward Dara’s portrait. “Including betray his own people?”
Without warning she was out of the cramped chamber and crossing to the open doorway.
“We must tell the Elders what we have discovered.”
Rushing forward, Santiago grasped her upper arm and pulled her around to meet his stubborn glare.
“And then we go to Styx and warn him.”
“Yes.”
He blinked, wondering if he’d been whisked into some bizzaro land.
“No arguments?”
The pale, perfect face was impossible to read. “No arguments.”
“Dios. I suppose there truly are miracles.”
Chapter 22
Kneeling in the swirling mists, Ariyal cradled Tearloch’s motionless body in his arms.
A part of him understood that he was surrounded by danger. And that he should be searching the fog for his missing mate so they could get the hell out of there. But a greater part was lost in the searing pain of taking the life of his brother.
It didn’t matter that Tearloch had betrayed his tribe. Or that he’d led his fellow tribesmen into the vile hands of the wizard.
Or even that he’d spent the last few seconds of his life trying to take off Ariyal’s head.
For countless centuries they’d been brothers, standing side by side in battle and offering each other comfort after spending time in Morgana’s bed.
Their ties went too deep to be destroyed by a few weeks of madness.
Lost in his grief, Ariyal was barely aware of Jaelyn’s silent approach. Not until she lightly touched his shoulder.
“Ariyal.”
“I couldn’t reach him.” His gaze never left the lifeless silver eyes. They had once shimmered with amusement or flashed with fury. Now they were empty. A reminder of what had been stolen. “I had no choice.”
She bent down beside him, her expression filled with sympathy.
“I’m sorry.”
He gave a slow nod. “Is the wizard dead?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” A fierce stab of satisfaction pierced his heart. “He’s the first to pay for twisting Tearloch’s mind and nearly destroying my tribe. But he won’t be the last.”
She squeezed his shoulder, offering a comfort that helped to blunt the sharp edges of his pain.
“Ariyal, I feel your grief, but we have to get out of here.”
He frowned at the throbbing urgency in her voice. “You said the wizard was dead.”
“He is, but when he died his blood was ...” She grimaced, searching for the word she wanted. “Absorbed by the child.”
“Absorbed?”
“There’s no other way to say it.”
He didn’t fully understand what she was talking about, but he could feel the fear that beat through her. Gently laying aside his brother, he rose to his feet, watching as she straightened.
If Jaelyn was scared, then something really bad was going on.
“Where’s the child now?”
“It’s no longer a child.”
“The Dark Lord?”
“Yes.”
“ Damn.”
After everything they’d been through, everything they’d sacrificed, they were still too late.
“What happened?”
“After Tearloch’s death, the wizard became mortal. I didn’t even consider the consequences when I put a bullet through his brain.”
“Jaelyn.” He grasped her face, attempting to ease her rising panic. “It’s going to be okay.”
“No, it’s not.” She shook her head. “He’s resurrected. Or I guess she is. Or whatever.”
Still trying to sort through her flustered explanation, Ariyal froze at the wash of electricity that suddenly danced over his skin.
“Jaelyn,” a female voice cooed, slicing easily through the fog.
Suddenly he understood his mate’s panic. That voice alone was enough to crush his will to leave.
Jaelyn dug her fingers into his arms, her eyes wide. “Can you get us out of here?”
“Not in this spot,” he admitted. “We need to get back to where we entered.”
“What difference does it make?”
“The barrier was thinner there.” He shrugged, hoping she didn’t realize that he was flying on a wing and a prayer. “I might be able to use a portal to get us out.”
It