Page 83 of Dark Rival

And Allie saw, in that single stunning moment, the truth.

Royce was afraid for her because of what happened to his wife.

Royce strode past her, shoving open the door. “I’ll take ye to the chapel,” he said, flushed.

And she knew she was right.

ALONE IN THE CHAPEL, Allie reached out to the dead.

Confusion, anguish and sorrow wafted in the air, making it feel thick and heavy. Having been so suddenly and violently killed, their souls lingered nearby, a tangible presence, clearly uncertain as to whether to leave their loved ones behind, unwilling to move on. So much energy came from the recently dead and Allie knelt, trying to sort through the various roiling emotions. She wanted to heal each and every confused soul.

Allie identified the first of the dead, a very young, newly wed man. His name formed in her mind—Thormond—as did his pale, red-haired image. She knew he was afraid to leave his bride, and as she lit a candle for him, she began to pray.

She called out to the Ancients, one by one, asking them to heed her and to help her ease the passage of the dead into the next world. When she felt certain that the old gods had gathered and were listening, she turned her attention back to the dead young man.

She blessed him and his wife, reassuring him and encouraging him to go to the next life. She could feel his youth, not just in physical years, but in soul lifetimes, and she knew he would soon find rebirth. Allie prayed until she felt the confusion and uncertainty subsiding, until she felt his swirling energy soften. A moment later, she felt his presence dwindling, and then it was gone.

She managed a smile and wiped a tear from her face. She would call on Thormond’s wife tomorrow. Then she turned to the next hovering soul, this man far older but just as reluctant to leave his family and friends.

Many hours later, Allie stood, feeling shaky. The chapel was empty now, every soul sent on his or her way; two of the dead had been women, inadvertently killed in the attack. Moffat had to be stopped.

She stepped outside into a blushing dawn. Royce was sitting on the stairs leading up to the ramparts, waiting for her. Her heart turned over hard as their gazes met. As she walked over to him, he stood.

She saw the question in his eyes.

“I’m fine. It took some time to get the gods’ attention—and to send everyone on their way.”

“It took all night,” he said flatly, his gaze still searching. “Did ye try to heal every lost soul?”

“Were you listening to me?”

“A bit.”

“They all needed me, Royce.”

He shocked her by reaching out and putting his arm around her. “Will ye rest now?”

She leaned into his magnificent body, then gave in and turned, wrapping her arms around him, her cheek against the flat, hard lower edge of his chest. He hesitated and then his arms engulfed her. Allie stood still, breathing in his power, his essence, his scent, and relishing being in his arms.

“Does anyone ever pray for ye, Ailios?” he asked softly.

She nuzzled his chest, the linen rough beneath her cheek. “Who on earth would do that?”

His grip tightened.

Allie felt his heart pick up a new, stronger rhythm. “I wasn’t put here for myself, Royce. Like you, I was put here to help others.”

He was silent.

Allie thought about the intimacy of the moment. They were alone together and she was in his arms, in a silent dawn filled with the light of both the rising sun and the full moon, and his concern was just as evident now as it had been earlier. I am no longer alone, she thought, and she smiled against his chest.

They had been through so much in such a short time. They had survived so much together. They weren’t quite lovers and they were far more than friends. And no matter what mode he was in, Allie knew she could count on him.

“Tell me about the future,” he said hoarsely.

“What?” she asked, surprised, pulling back to look up at him.

He made a derisive sound, releasing her. He folded his arms across his chest and stared tightly down at her.