The Fae Lord's Lady Page 11

  The four-thousand-year-old fae motioned to one of the beds in the room. "Lay her here."

  Lorh did so. Then the middle-aged fae man bustled over to Natalie’s still figure and checked her pulse and other vitals. Closing his eyes, he glided his hands a few inches above her body, running a diagnostic spell on her.

  His eyelids popped open, and he gave Lorh a slightly censoring look. "Her system is going into shock. Now I have to stabilize her. I’ve told you to be careful. You should’ve brought her in days ago. In fact, I should’ve known about her upcoming arrival right from the beginning so I could prepare for all eventualities. You know I’ve always regarded her as a close friend, so you could’ve trusted me."

  Though worry still clawed at him, Lorh frowned at his friend. "Bringing her here would’ve aroused her suspicions. And you know why I didn’t tell you earlier, good friend or not."

  "You could’ve concocted some story to satisfy her."

  Lorh didn’t answer. He’d known the irascible Lurin for too long to not realize who’d win this argument. "She’ll be fine?"

  "Physically, yes." Lurin, his hands slightly glowing, glanced up from where he was sending healing energies into his patient’s chest. "But her mind is still lost in memories. That spell acted like an explosive detonating in her head. Everything is fractured."

  Seeing Lorh pale and make a noise of distress, he shook his head. "I mean this figuratively and am referring to her mental state. Her brain is perfectly intact. Though, no thanks to that spell. If a memory vial could be fashioned to physically tear apart someone’s mind, I think that one would’ve," he muttered ominously.

  Lorh’s heart nearly stopped at his words. Some of the committee’s treachery went further than he or Annaka could’ve guessed. A new thought sprouted and left him reeling with rage and hurt. But who else would have that kind of power or even care if Natalie were alive? If his suspicions were true, he needed a long overdue talk with his parents. The very notion made him want to rip something apart.

  Lurin placed a hand on her head and focused on that for a minute before talking again. "The spell had all the grace of a cow in statuary shop. It took all the memories of her past life and combined them with the actual energy residue of those times. She’s not only seeing those memories from her own eyes, but also is viewing them as a separate observer at times. So she’s essentially switching back and forth from viewing them like one would a play to reliving them directly. Minds, even fae ones, don’t take kindly to such extremes. Human ones…" He straightened from his bent position and shrugged, letting the action speak for him.

  Releasing a ragged sigh, Lorh rubbed a hand over his face. "I never thought members of the committee would sink so far." He looked at the working healer, anguish pumping through his veins. "I should’ve had you study the spell vial."

  "Did they forbid such a thing in their terms?"

  "No, but they…gently suggested that the less people that knew about it the better. I feared they’d change their minds or do something to hinder me."

  A harrumphing sound left Lurin, and fine lines formed around his eyes as he frowned. "Knowing some of them, they probably would’ve. Everything to do with TirAnn politics ends up turning into a den of snakes."

  "With my parents in the center of it," Lorh said, his voice dark.

  Lurin’s brows rose. "You mean —" He shook his head. "Why am I not surprised? These are your parents we’re discussing, after all. They’ve stopped shocking me hundreds of years ago."

  "I don’t know if they were behind the spell vial, but something tells me they were." The Great Stars help him if they were…. They were his parents, so he shouldn’t kill them.

  "I don’t envy what I’m sure is a soon-to-be upcoming meeting with them."

  A bitter laugh left Lorh’s mouth. "Me, neither."

  * * *

  * * *

  The lights in the healing hall room glowed softly. With a wave of Lorh’s hand, he dimmed them even more. Though it was fairly dark, he could still see Natalie’s face easily.

  With Lurin’s care, her pallor had lessened, and she breathed normally, but she still hadn’t awakened. More than likely, she was still awash in memories and images of the past.

  He stroked her warm cheek. It’d been so cold at first, but now retained the heat of health. If only her mind would follow in those footsteps.

  Lurin said sleep was probably the best state for her, as that should help her mind deal with the memories more than anything else he could devise. Lorh agreed, but it was hard to see his love unconscious.

  And the children… The children just wanted their mother back.

  He sighed. Even though he’d told them more than once that even if she did regain her full memories of the past and still wanted to stay, life would never be the same as it had been. Too much had happened. Her death had changed them all. But he’d gladly forge a new life with her built on the ashes of the old.

  A rustling of blankets ripped into his ponderings. The hand in his jerked. Natalie!

  Hope sprouted, but a glance showed that while her lips turned down in a frown, her eyes remained firmly shut. Memory and images of the past still gripped her, then. As the moments crept by, she stirred more and more, though.

  Silent tears leaked from her eyes. The drops gleamed like crystal in the low light. As if in reflex, her hand swiped at the streaks. He reached out with a shaking hand and captured the moisture with the pads of his fingers.

  Natalie held still— indeed, hardly breathing. Or was that him? Then her hand came up and covered his. For a moment, he thought he dreamed.

  Then her lids fluttered open, and she looked at him, really looked at him. Alarm and remembrance flared in her eyes as the veil barring her conscious mind from her past memories lifted an inch more.

  She breathed, "I know you." Before she could say more, her eyes shut. Her hand fell away from his, and she lay unmoving.

  He bent over her, panic clutching at his heart. The soft puff of breath on his cheek assured him she was breathing, as did the rise and fall of her chest. Smoothing one hand over her forehead, he found it still warm to the touch, but not uncomfortably so.

  His erratic heart rate settled a bit, and he slumped back against his chair. She’d merely fainted, her beleaguered mind flooded with images and sensations it couldn’t handle. He swallowed thickly, his mouth and throat too dry to allow him to do anything else.

  Would she remember any of this evening? According to Lurin, there was a good chance that upon waking — whenever that may be — she might not and that it would come back later, maybe in a day or even in a week or more. The mind would do about anything to protect itself, even brick wall memories. But with the spell in place, they wouldn’t stay hidden long. Then she might shatter all over again.

  If she didn’t recall the events of tonight, he could only hope she had a much gentler introduction to her memories next time. Or she might be fragmented beyond repair. Then, he’d be broken, with no hopes of putting himself back together. He’d only been able to hold on this long because of his children — their children.

  For a while he sat staring at her, as if afraid by taking his gaze off her, she’d disappear. Finally leaning forward, he adjusted the counterpane more securely over her and settled in for a silent vigil.

  11

  Natalie groaned as she woke up with the mother of all headaches. She didn’t bother to open her eyes, figuring it would be an unwise move right now. Alcohol hadn’t been on the lunch menu. In fact, she couldn’t remember eating or drinking anything since lunch. Was she sick? The evening was a mysterious haze. Scrunching up her face, she tried to ignore the light streaming through her eyelids.

  Starting with the morning, she ran the events of the day through her mind. The day stopped in the early afternoon, soon after Nara came to her room. She’d been combing the girl’s hair and then…nothing. A frown came to her lips. Surely she hadn’t fallen asleep, but if not, where were her missing memories?

 
So strange, and after being in TirAnn for a week, that was saying something.

  First, she should get up and see what time of day it was, though she’d hazard with the bright light that it was at least midmorning of the following day. She felt way too groggy to have only slept for an hour or so. Her eyelids snapped open and confirmed her assessment. Her gaze slid across the room, abruptly stopping to return to the chair sitting beside the bed. To the fae male sitting in it, asleep.

  Even odder, this wasn’t her room. Given the medical instruments and extra beds, it looked like some kind of infirmary. So she was ill. Maybe it was some kind of stomach bug that caused intense headaches, too. Well, she’d just roll with it for now. Lethargy had control of her body, and she didn’t want to move an inch if she could help it.

  Though confused as to why Lorh was at her bedside, she found the unguarded look on his face totally endearing. The tiny crinkles around his eyes had softened, making him look carefree. She instinctively knew he was anything but that. So much of the time, his manner was cryptic, teasing, yet restrained. Now he appeared an open book, through whose pages she wanted to thumb. What would such a story tell? When had her storyline merged with his?

  She vacillated between letting him sleep and waking him up, but what could he tell her that she hadn’t already reasoned out herself? His answers confounded more than helped, anyway. Relaxing into the pillows, she decided to lie and watch the view while she had the privilege of it.

  His eyelids fluttered every so often, making her think wakefulness claimed him, but he didn’t open his eyes. His chest rose and fell slowly, so he didn’t seem to be waking up.

  "Little bird, though I’m delighted you’re awake, you’re watching me so intently. Do you intend to take me home to your nest?"

  She jumped, the action sending little jabs of pain through her skull. Still, she watched him warily. His lips had barely moved, let alone the rest of his face and body. "You’re awake?"

  "Hmm, what do you think?" he asked, still looking as if he were sleeping.

  "I would say yes." She slowly pulled herself into a sitting position, careful not to make her head throb too much, and leaned back against the headboard. That was when she noticed she was in a plain white nightgown. Well, at least it was better than one of those hospital gowns.

  "Smart girl, I have been awake."

  "What are you doing here?"

  He took in a sharp breath, and something dark yet hopeful seemed to cross his face. "You don’t remember?"

  "Remember what?"

  "That’s my answer. You had an unfortunate incident, and now have a nasty knot on the back of your head. You were not ready."

  Well, there went her illness theory. She gingerly touched the bump and found it tender. Huh, wonder how that happened? "Not ready for what? What happened to me?"

  A muscle in his jaw twitched as if he were stealing himself up for an unpleasant encounter. "If you were ready, you would know the answers to your questions."

  He had to be kidding. Not this again. She glared at him, though little good that did with his eyes shut. She hadn’t been expecting answers, but his unhelpful replies could drive anyone up the wall and out a window.

  A small smile ghosted his lips, the nerve of him. What was he doing flipping moods on her? And worse, was he able to read minds or at least see with his eyes closed? She shuddered. Both possibilities were invasive and disturbing, but she wouldn’t discount anything as impossible in this world.

  He finally opened his eyes and sat forward to take one of her hands in his. "How do you feel?"

  Changing the subject, huh? And using the allure of his touch to help do it? Unfortunately for her, that tactic worked too often, as he well knew. "I know what you’re doing."

  His brows rose, and he sent her an innocent look. "What are you talking about?"

  "We will have this conversation sooner than later."

  "Your health comes first. Let’s focus on that for a bit."

  "I’m fine." At his disbelieving look, she grudgingly backtracked. "Well, except for the humongous headache and the nausea. My muscles are kind of achy, too. You sure I don’t have a bug of some sort?"

  "It’s possible."

  So that was all he was going to say? Big surprise there.

  "When can I get out of here? You can answer that, right?"

  "Whenever Lurin, your healer, says so."

  "And has he given any indication of when that may be?" She’d just woken, and she already wanted to throttle him. The jerk wasn’t earning any brownie points. Then a new thought hit. He was aggravating her to divert the subject from what’d happened last — was it even last evening? How long had she been out?

  "In a day or so."

  "How long was I sleeping?"

  "Less than a day."

  "So it’s Saturday now." The last she remembered, it’d been Friday afternoon.

  "Yes."

  "What am I supposed to do until I can leave?"

  He startled, and all color drained from his face as he clutched her hand in a nearly crushing hold. "Wh-what?"

  She’d meant leave this room, not TirAnn. Teetering between amusement and wanting to reassure him so she could free her hand from his death grip, she said, "I want to go back to my room. When can I get up?"

  His tense frame relaxed along with his squashing grasp, and he seemed to remember how to breathe again. "Lurin will examine you when he comes back in. One of his assistants is here, but he prefers to check you out himself."

  "And by the tone of your voice, you prefer that, too."

  He shrugged. "He’s the best I have, so of course. I’d entrust you to no one else."

  There he did it again. Making her feel “warm and fuzzy” inside when she should be angry and frustrated. Still, her worries about being bored were legitimate. Her smartphone was long dead, and there weren’t exactly any computers, televisions, or even radios to be had. Right now, she’d never missed technology more. "Until I get out of here, what can I do to entertain myself?"

  "I can read to you if your head hurts too much for you to do so."

  She frowned. "I can’t read or understand the Faerin language."

  "I have books in English."

  "Really?"

  "Earth literature is quite popular."

  What he said about fae kind not always liking humans popped to mind. "So hate the people but love their literature? What else do your people like that humanity created?"

  "Some of the foods and music."

  "Music? How would that work here since you’d have nothing to play it with?" Would he understand the concept of digital tracks and the devices needed to play them?

  "Even Nara and Aaron have tablets."

  That startled her so much she yanked her hand from his. "What?"

  He let loose a laugh before grabbing her hand again. "You’re amazed that some of your world’s miraculous inventions have made their way here?"

  "Quite frankly, yes." She gestured around the room, shaking her head in disbelief. "Your manor isn’t exactly full of the technology that we see back home on Earth."

  "Your world’s inventions are supplemental, not necessary to our way of life. That’s why you don’t see them throughout the manor. We have magic to help simplify our lives," he said matter-of-factly.

  She followed his train of thought. "Whereas we have technology. But that still leaves unanswered how you power the devices and download new content?"

  "We have charms that’ll take care of the recharging part. As for downloading new content while in TirAnn, no one has a way to do so, unfortunately. At least, not yet. They all have to wait until they’re visiting your modern-day Earth. Or they can grab a copy from a friend by saving it to one of those little sticks."

  "Flash drive?" She could barely believe what she’d just uttered. This was so surreal. Was she talking about flash drives in a land straight out of fairy tales? Suddenly, the phrasing of something he’d said struck her as odd. "Wait, you said my modern-day Earth. Does tha
t mean others have traveled further in time than my present day?"

  "Some have, but not by much."

  "Why not?"

  He drew circles with his thumb over the back on her hand. "There are rules governing time travel to Earth, and one of them is that traveling backward is much easier than getting approval for traveling forward. The Committee of Regulatory Time Travel is the only one allowed to have a link into the somewhat distant future of your Earth."

  She furrowed her brow. "Why does it matter since time travelers could theoretically change any time period they arrive in?"

  "Though time flows roughly the same here as it does on Earth, with the standard being a twenty-four-hour day and a three-hundred-and-sixty-five-day year, your time’s a little over three hundred years ahead of ours. Given this, the committee doesn’t want the fae going into the future much further than this and shaping events yet to come."

  So the future shouldn’t be messed with, but what about the past? If it could be toyed with, that didn’t make much sense. The world as she knew it would always be changing, history rewriting itself in the blink of an eye. She’d never noticed any such thing. Maybe she wouldn’t, though, and that was all part of the process. Argh, her head hurt even more just thinking about this paradoxical sand trap.

  "But you can shape past events?"

  He shook his head. "That’s not allowed, either, and would get our link status invalidated. But traveling in the past is deemed safer than going to the future. I guess that’s because the future has unlimited potential whereas the past is what is already behind. If one of my people travels beyond the time period of the committee’s link, then who’s to establish what is supposed to happen and what is not? If time-travel weren’t policed this way, it’d only take one person to play havoc with the future. And it would be a never-ending struggle for the committee to stay one leap ahead of all those striving to bound forward in time."

  She got what he was saying, but… "So why doesn’t this committee just choose a period millions of years into the future?"