Pia turned to Dragos quickly, who said, “I no longer sense the Machine in the area, so I assume Gaeleval crossed over to your Other land.”
“Yes,” Calondir said. “He took Beluviel and the others.”
“Now that he’s no longer present, I want to know how much of his beguilement has lingered on the captives,” said Dragos. That was just one of many questions to which he intended to find answers. He also still wanted to know how Gaeleval had traveled to reach the Elven demesne in the United States, and he was very interested in finding out what happened in Numenlaur before Gaeleval left. Dragos looked down at Pia. She was as filthy as all the others, and she was the most beautiful, most precious thing in the world to him. He told her, “But first, I want to make sure that you are clear of any influence. I do not like how he was able to enter your dreams.”
Her lips tightened and she nodded.
Calondir said nothing, either in acknowledgment of what Dragos had said or in negation. Instead the High Lord led the way through the decimated Wood to a building at the top of a waterfall. One side of the building was charred and shattered glass lay all around. Braziers lit the open area and bodies lined one end of the clearing, covered in blood-spotted sheets.
Dragos noticed that a few limp and unmoving head snakes from a medusa trailed out from under the corner of one of the sheets. Elves weren’t the only ones who had died here tonight.
Pia averted her gaze from the sight, blinking rapidly, her eyes reddened. Dragos put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close against his side.
The unit captain from Pia’s guards came out to meet them. Eva, that was her name. Dragos had met with her personally before Pia’s trip. Just as her unit mate had done, she nodded to him but spoke to Pia. “Whole place is a mess, inside and out. Our rooms smell like smoke, but then everything does right now. Other than the smell, the apartment is fine if you need it.”
Pia said, “Get the others, and have something to eat and rest while you can. We’ve allied with Calondir. Troops will be here in less than two hours, and then we’re crossing with the Elves to go after those who were taken.”
The captain’s face sharpened. “You got it.”
The captain jogged away to round up her unit. Dragos asked Pia, “Where are those rooms?”
She looked up at him thoughtfully. “Not far.”
He frowned. Her earlier fierce outburst of joy had become tempered with other things, and he could no longer tell what she was thinking. He told her, “I want to go there.”
Pia hesitated as her gaze traveled to two Elves who half carried an injured third person into the building. For a moment he thought she would insist on helping them, but instead she said, “All right.”
She led him through the building to the apartment. Other than a dim red flicker of coals that were still glowing in the fireplace, the rooms were almost totally in shadow.
The other Wyr would be arriving soon. Dragos asked, “Which room is yours?”
“This one.” Now she kept her gaze averted as she took him to the bedroom, and his mouth settled into a grim line. As they stepped inside, she pulled away and went to look out the window where torch lights from the working Elves dotted the shoreline and were reflected on the black surface of the river.
He shut the door. This room also had a fireplace. Wood for a fire had been laid but it had not been lit. With a flick of his fingers, he set it alight.
He said, “Look at me.”
She did, sidelong, as he walked over her. He took hold of her shoulders and turned her fully around. “No, really look at me.”
His tone must have conveyed the seriousness of his intent, because she complied, gazing up at him with wide, dark violet eyes. He cupped her face, stroking his thumbs along the rose petal softness of her skin and slipped quietly into her mind.
Last May he had removed an intricate citadel of spells that Pia’s mother had woven around her mind. Her mother had intended to protect her, but ultimately the spells had prevented her from fully accessing her Wyr form once she had matured into adulthood. Now her mental strength was wholly her own—and she was strong, with a slender, wholly feminine thread of steel that ran right through her core.
Obsessively, carefully, he examined every part of her, and she allowed it, resting her hands on his wrists, open and trusting to his mental touch. Finally he pulled back and released a deep breath. “You are clear. There isn’t any lingering influence.”
Relief lightened her lovely features. “Oh, thank God. I was really shaken when I realized how much he had messed with my thinking.”
“What did you dream about?” he demanded. “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing,” she said. Then her eyes widened as she caught the full implications behind his fury. “There weren’t many more details other than what I already told you. He kept trying to put a hand on me, but it wasn’t sexual. I think he was trying to control me, and he was probably trying to control the others as well. They had all fallen asleep, including the two that were on watch. Not even the smoke or the sounds of fighting woke them.” She frowned. “But I also dreamed about the baby, who was lying on me and growling. He bit me, which woke me up and then I woke the others.”
“The baby bit you?” Dragos laid a hand on her abdomen, where his son’s strong, bright spark nestled.
Her expression turned wry. “Yeah, that was my reaction. I really believe he wasn’t trying to hurt me, just startle me. It worked.”
“Way to go, little man,” Dragos told the spark.
He knew that Pia thought the baby believed his name was Peanut. Dragos thought it was more likely that the baby responded to the love he felt when his mother talked about him, and in reality he comprehended little more than love and danger. Still, he had acted twice now to save his mother.
A fierce wave of emotion caught Dragos off guard. He clenched his jaw, blinking.
He had a son. The concept was still new and shocking after several months. He had a son, a delicate and small very Powerful creature, and already he was so proud of him.
“All right,” he said, his voice deeper and rougher than usual. “You’re safe. The baby’s safe. Next item of business.”
Pia raised her eyebrows, her expression turning cautious. “We have items of business?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
She sighed. “Dragos, we have enough to think about. We don’t have to talk about that right now.”
“I do,” he told her. “I’m a bad-tempered bastard at the best of times, and I was on a hair trigger. The border problems with the Elves, the sentinel issue, all the business problems, and to top it all off, you were gone. None of that is an excuse, and I’m not trying to make one out of it. I’m just telling you, and I want you to know that I heard every word that you said. And I’m sorry.”
Her expression softened, and his world became brighter. “You’re right, it’s no excuse. But I know you have been under a lot of strain.”
“I can’t promise we won’t run into this issue again,” he said. “I’ve been used to solitary rule for a very long time.”
“We’re both feeling our way,” she murmured.
“And it’s too easy for me to slip into old habits and difficult for me to change on something so fundamental, but I am asking you for patience. I promise that I am trying, that I will continue to try.”
A small grin tugged at the corners of her lips. He raised an eyebrow, not at all sure that his carefully crafted and quite rare apology should elicit such a reaction. “I knew you were sorry,” she told him, “when I was standing in the middle of a forest fire with Calondir of all people, and I was about to cross over to the Elven Other land, and you still said ‘please.’”
He narrowed his eyes. “What part gave it away?”
She laughed out loud, a silvery sound of pure pleasure that danced in his old, wicked soul, and he felt the magic again, how she lifted him to a better place.