Kristor fisted his hands. “Did Nivla do this to you? Did he cause your loss of memory?”
Surlock’s smile was slow. “No, Darcy did.”
The healer cleared his throat. “It may be a few days before he starts to make sense. It could be the drugs they gave him.”
Surlock shook his head. “No, Darcy hit me over the head because I scared her. I lost my memory. She was helping me find it, but they took us captive.” He swallowed hard, but his pain rose to the surface despite his best efforts to keep it at bay. “Then they killed her.”
He closed his eyes, letting the dregs of the tranquilizer, and his depression, lull him back to sleep. He didn’t know when the craft landed, didn’t see the worry on his mother’s face, the pain in his father’s eyes or the concern of his sisters. Nor did he know when they carried him inside the castle.
He didn’t care. He was content to stay lost in his dream world.
“I’m here, Surlock,” Darcy said.
He looked around, and then his gaze landed on her. By the gods, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “I’ve missed you,” he told her.
She laughed, the sound swirling around him like a tumble of beautiful colors. He took her in his arms and lifted her high, then let her body slide slowly, sensuously down his.
“I think you’re very bad, Surlock.”
“That would be Prince Surlock.”
“Oh, Prince Surlock, is it?”
“Yes, and I’m going to carry you off to my castle and keep you safe. I’ll not let any harm come to you.”
Her eyes were sad as she looked into his. “But how can you keep me safe. I’m dead, remember?”
He sat up with a start, his cry of pain echoing through the halls of the castle. “Darcy! Come back!” He reached out, but was surrounded by darkness.
And silence.
CHAPTER 25
“He won’t awaken, Mother,” Karinthia said.
“He’s suffered a great loss.” Her mother’s soft blue eyes filled with tears.
Karinthia had never seen Jadar cry and it broke her heart that her mother would suffer so, almost as much as seeing Surlock in this condition. “What can we do?”
“We have to cast the circle of power and healing,” Jadar said.
“He’s so weak it could kill him.”
“If we don’t, he will die for sure.”
“And if he returns to us, what will he be like then? He’s lost his lifemate. I’ve seen Symtarians go crazy or die because they’ve lost the one they were meant to be with. Surlock won’t like being brought back.”
Jadar fisted her hands. “I’m his mother. I refuse to lose one of my children. We will prepare the circle and may the goddess of all things living grant me his life.”
“But—”
“No, we will cast the circle. It’s the only way to save him.”
Karinthia bowed before her Queen Mother, touching the back of her hand to her forehead. “Yes, Mother.” Her mother left the room to prepare.
Karinthia straightened and stared down at her brother’s sleeping form. Tears filled her eyes. She had always been closest to Surlock. It broke her heart that he would have found his lifemate, only to lose her to a rogue. She clamped her lips to keep her anger inside.
Nivla was almost as evil as Zerod. If her father hadn’t created the law that no Symtarian could kill another Symtarian, Karinthia would have killed him long ago. He’d hurt too many of her people.
Fear weaved through her as she thought about the ramifications of what Nivla’s actions had produced this time. He might have already caused Surlock’s death. Losing your lifemate could be a slow, painful way to die. She gripped the footboard on his bed. Maybe she would risk the consequences of killing Nivla if Surlock crossed over.
No, she wouldn’t let Surlock die! The end of his life wouldn’t happen as long as she had breath left in her body! The goddess would save him. Karinthia had to believe that.
She walked around the bed. “As much as you would like to step to the other side, brother, I refuse to let you go. We will cast the circle and bring you back to us.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead. Unnatural heat radiated from him, almost burning her lips.
This wasn’t good. They needed to cast the circle soon or he would be lost to them forever. She hurried from the room to ready herself.
Karinthia knew where her mother would be. She quickly changed into her blue robes and joined Jadar outside. Deep in the woods, six stones standing like sentinels surrounded a large stone slab. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting eerie shadows around them.
The scent of sweet night flowers perfumed the air. Karinthia began to relax. Magic was all around her. Her pulse quickened in response. This was where she was most comfortable, surrounded by the elements. Where she felt closest to the gods and goddesses that once walked among the people.
There was a rustle through the leaves. Karinthia turned, then smiled. Her sister Ciara wore her red robes. She moved to her place. Her sister Mischa, wearing black robes, came with her. Their mother took her place at the head of the circle wearing her white robes.
Jadar began to chant the prayer of strength and guidance. Then, one by one, she removed five small stones from the pocket of her robe, invoking the spirit of the goddess to join them this night as she placed them on the slab.
When all was made ready, her brothers and father carried Surlock into the circle, placing the jewel-encrusted litter on the stone slab. They didn’t look at the women as they moved to the outside of the circle, then to the edge of the woods, offering protection if needed.
Symtarian men were fierce warriors and had courage beyond compare. Some even had powers of their own, but it was the women who were gifted with magic. The men knew when they were not needed. Instead, they would stand guard on the fringes, one man at each point, so the women would not be interrupted.
Jadar raised a golden chalice. “To the goddess of light, I ask that you bring my son, your prince, out of the darkness and back to us.” She lowered the chalice, then set it on the slab. Next she took a knife of silver and made a cut above her wrist. She didn’t flinch. This was her son. Her blood ran into the chalice; then she bound her wound tight before taking her place in the north.
Karinthia stepped forward. For a moment, she could only stare at her brother. Was he alive? Were they too late to save him?
“He still breathes, daughter,” her mother’s voice whispered as if she’d read her eldest daughter’s pain.
Karinthia drew in a ragged breath and raised the chalice. “To the goddess of rain, I pray you will wash his soul clean of his pain and let him live again.” She took the knife and made a cut above her wrist, letting her blood flow into the vessel. She set the chalice and the knife down, bound her wound tight, then took her place in the south.
Ciara moved next to the slab. Karinthia saw tears shimmering in her sister’s eyes, the only visible sign that she was shaken to see her brother like this. She raised the chalice.
“To the gods of fire, I pray you will warm his blood with life.” She then made a cut above her wrist and let her blood flow into the chalice. She also bound her wound tight, then took her place in the west.
Mischa, the youngest of the daughters, moved to take her place. She raised the chalice with hands that trembled, but her voice was strong and sure. “To the gods of wind, I ask that you breathe life back into my brother.” She, too, made a cut above her wrist and let her blood flow into the chalice. After she bound her wound tight, she carried the chalice to her mother, then took her place in the east.
Their mother raised the chalice high. “I give the goddess the blood of her children and call on the powers of light, wind, rain and fire to descend from the four corners of the universe and save Surlock, Prince of New Symtaria.”