Page 194 of Forbidden

Yet Duncan was farther from her than ever, locked in battle with himself. His word had been given.

It had not been given to her.

Yet he was part of her.

Darkness gathering, drop by drop, breath by breath, one soul given, one soul locked away. Untouched.

Cassandra is wrong. His soul won’t wither, for he does not love me.

Slowly Amber drew away from Duncan and slid from the bed, unable to bear the agony of touching him any longer. With hands that trembled, she removed her amber pendant and placed it across the coiled metal of the war hammer that had given Duncan his name. She reached out to him one last time, but did not touch him.

“God be with you, dark warrior,” Amber whispered, “for I cannot be.”

MEGlooked across the table at her husband. Their cold breakfast of bread, meat, and ale lay largely ignored on the trestle table in the great hall. Dominic was leaning back in his chair, eyes narrowed. The fingers of his right hand drummed softly on his thigh in time to the haunting tune Ariane was playing on a lap harp.

Simon carved another slice of venison, poured some ale into a dainty goblet, and set both in front of Ariane.

“Leave off making the harp weep and eat,” he said tersely.

“Again? I feel like a goose being fattened for a feast,” she muttered.

But Ariane set aside the harp and began to eat. It was easier than arguing with Simon when he had that determined look in his eyes.

“Have you dreamed, Meg?” Dominic asked abruptly.

“Yes.”

“Glendruid dreams?” he asked.

“Yes.”

The fact that Meg said no more told Dominic that the dreams had been unhappy…and that they had offered no solutions. The backs of his fingers stroked her cheek.

“Small falcon,” he said in a low voice, “I must find a way to give Blackthorne peace. I want our child to be born into a time and a place not torn apart by war.”

Meg kissed Dominic’s palm and watched him with eyes made luminous by love.

“Come what will, Glendruid Wolf,” she whispered, “I will never regret bearing your child.”

Ignoring the others in the room, Dominic lifted Meg into his lap. Golden bells braided into her hair shivered and chimed. He held her close, whispering his love.

After a time, the haunting cry of the harp resumed, beautiful music describing all the shades of sadness.

“What a cheerful gathering,” Erik mocked as he entered the great hall, his peregrine on his wrist. “Do you play often for funerals, Lady Ariane?”

“That is one of her lighthearted tunes,” Simon said.

“God save us,” Erik muttered. “Leave off, lady. You will have my peregrine in tears.”

The peregrine in question flared her wings briefly before she settled to watching the gathered humans with inhuman curiosity.

“I would have expected you to be with Duncan,” Dominic said, “driving Learning into his thick skull.”

“My sister tried a more certain method,” Erik said, smiling slightly. “She went to Duncan last night.”

Dominic’s smile was an exact reflection of Erik’s. “That explains their absence at morning chapel.”

“Aye.”