Into the morass of overload. And an undeniable fact: she needed Henrik.
Cosmina bit down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Had she said silly earlier? Well, she’d meant ridiculous. She shouldn’t be feeling anything for him. Not one wit, but . . . goddess be swift and merciful. She couldn’t fight the compulsion. The urge to be close to him pushed impulse past unwise into witless. Now it ran hand in hand with stupidity. Particularly since her banishment from White Temple always topped her hurts-like-hell list. Somehow, though, uncurling her fist from his cloak—shoving him away, telling him to go—had brushed the five-year-old hurt out of the way, claiming the number one spot. Now all she wanted to do was abandon all restraint and call him back.
Pride stopped her. Right on its heels, dignity put in an appearance.
Thank the gods.
Despite her fear of the dark, she refused to make a fool of herself. It didn’t matter how bad it got. Or that blindness raged, and she still couldn’t see a blasted thing. Acting like a brainless ninny didn’t appear anywhere on her list of things to do tonight. Neither did the shaky hands, wobbly knees, and stomach-twisting nausea. Not that her body cared. Weak from blood loss, physical chaos took a turn for the worse. Struggling to stay upright, she sagged against the wall behind her. The damp seeped through her cloak and tunic to attack her skin. Goose bumps rose. Cosmina ignored the shivers, closed her eyes and, taking a deep breath, exhaled hard.
Filling her lungs didn’t help.
Her stomach pitched. She swayed, listing sideways before jerking to a stop. Resetting her stance, she regained her balance, but knew it wouldn’t last long. The harder she fought, the more she suffered. The headache was getting worse, clawing at her temples. As the intense throb hammered the inside of her skull, Cosmina’s hands and feet went numb. She shook her head. Oh gods. She was in trouble. Would be facedown in the middle of the tunnel any moment now. End as naught but a crumpled heap while she emptied her belly and surrendered her pride.
Cosmina clenched her teeth and reached for calm, struggling to be patient. All she needed to do was hold on . . . just a little longer. ’Twas mind over matter, a simple case of will versus circumstance. She could stave off disaster and combat the discomfort. Tougher than most, she could combat the discomfort. Lord knew she’d been doing it for years. Alone in the forest. Deep in the wilds. Not a friend in the world. Except . . .
That wasn’t quite true, was it?
In the space of a night, she’d found someone. Or rather, he’d found her. The thought should have scared her. Gratitude rose instead. Despite her uncertainty, she knew Henrik somehow—understood his ways, accepted him as a friend while dismissing him as a foe. Strange, really. Baffling by all accounts, but even as intuition warned her to be careful, she recognized his value. Felt his strength. Perceived great honor in him and responded to those truths without question.
He’d promised to come back for her. Had given his word.
She believed him.
He wouldn’t abandon her. Even now, she could hear him up there, somewhere ahead of her, talking to Andrei. Leather creaked. Someone cursed as water splashed. The wet, sloppy sound beat against the tunnel walls, feeding her information. He had a hold on his friend. Was hauling the other man out of the water.
Leaning forward a little, Cosmina pressed her bottom to the wall and listened to each snippet of sound. Her eyes narrowed. Aye, definitely.
It wouldn’t be long now.
Relief was moments away. The second Henrik returned, she would feel better. The nausea would abate. Her nerves would settle. And her body? The pain would go. Crazy to believe it? Cosmina knew better. As odd as it seemed, Henrik’s touch soothed her. His closeness helped. The sound of his voice brought the kind of comfort she didn’t want to resist. Each syllable, every word, drew her into his circle, making everything better. So forget denial. Toss aside logic too. Agony had a way of burning both out of a person and, like it or nay, she was beyond fighting the pull of attraction.
Stomach cramps twisted her abdomen.
Desperation took hold, pushing pride out of the way as she doubled over. Tucking her injured arm against her side, she planted her free hand on her knee. The movement threw bile up her throat. The awful taste unbalanced her, weakening her resistance. Cosmina struggled against it, but . . .
Her stomach heaved again.
With a moan, Cosmina cupped her hand over her mouth. Oh gods. She wasn’t going to make it. She needed Henrik. Or out—out of the dampness, out of the chill, out of the tunnel and into fresh air—to regain control.
“Henrik.”
Her tone said help. Naught more than a croak, her voice didn’t carry. She cringed in reaction. Gods, she sounded bad, beyond bruised into broken. Cosmina whispered his name again. Attempt number two didn’t go any better and as she hung her head, shame came calling. Blast and damn, she was better than this—stronger, more skilled, a member of the Blessed for pity’s sake, able to—
“Let it go, my lady. Vomit . . . you’ll feel better.”
“Gods!” Surprise sent her sideways. Her knees gave out, buckling beneath her.
A big hand grabbed and hauled her upright. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Her breath hitched. “Shay?”
“Aye.”
She huffed in relief. “Can you . . .”
“What?”
“I cannot breathe. I need fresh air. Please get me out of here.”
“Hang tight, Cosmina. Give H another minute.” Shay stepped in close. Bumping against her, he grabbed the back of her cloak and held her upright. “He’s got a hold of Andrei, but—”
“Goddamn it.”
“Oh shit,” Shay said.
Cosmina flinched. “What? Shay, what’s—”
A horrific snap rolled into a lethal hiss.
“Jesus Christ,” Henrik said, more growl than curse. “Andrei, listen to me. You’re all right . . . Calm down, brother. Don’t—”
Hot air slithered down the tunnel. Fire snarled and . . .
Snap, pop . . . boom!
“Get down!”
Chunks of stone flew like shrapnel, peppering her chest, stealing her air as her arm squawked. Suspended in surprise, she registered the blast, felt blood well above her eye, smelled the sulfur, but—gods. What in heaven’s name had just happened?
Hard hands grabbed hold and spun her full circle.
Her feet left the floor. She landed with a thud. Boot soles sliding, she twisted mid-tumble. The ground bit into her hip, then hammered her shoulder. Shay flipped her belly down and landed on top of her. Dirty water splashed into her face. An instant later, blue flame flared in her periphery. Pain streaked across her temples as the flare disappeared. Shock expanded. Holy gods—the light. She’d seen something. A brief flash of . . . of . . .
Drat it all, she didn’t know.
Not exactly. Although she could guess.
Andrei had gone cataclysmic. Deep in panic, his fear of the water ruled, making his magic react in unpredictable ways. Not surprising. Nowhere near advisable either. If Henrik didn’t get him under control, the flare-up would kill them all. The tunnel acted like a funnel, channeling heat along with the inferno. Cosmina felt the blaze. Flame roared just above her, singeing Shay on the way by. He cursed and shifted, using his body to shield her as fire licked overhead.
“Shay,” she yelled above the din. “Water. You need to—”
Quick to understand, Shay growled a command. The stream flowing beneath them obeyed. Water swirled, curving into a wave. Up. Over. Around them. She sensed the wet curl envelope her. It rose in a rush, meeting in the middle over Shay to create a wet bubble of protective cover.