33
SAYLOR
H e doesn’t waste time or wait any longer. The moment we break from the kiss he squeezes me tight then he is gone. My skin cools where only seconds before his arms and body were warming me. My stomach is a hard knot. My head throbs, but in my heart I know this is what has to happen.
I stare at the empty room, the far door that he went through, waiting for who knows what. I sure don’t. Maybe a vain, tiny sliver of hope that he’ll come back through with a haughty grin and a ‘fooled ya’ on his tongue. It doesn’t happen, of course.
He’s gone, doing what he must. For my friend and me. I know there is that aspect of it in his actions and as much as I hate it, I appreciate it too. He is amazing. His words echo in my head. Beautiful words that lift my heart despite the weight of him being outside the compound and in danger.
Giving up on his surprise return I go back through the curtain. Wren is resting her head on Sek’su’s chest. His breathing is even more ragged than it was. I hear it hitch with almost every inhale.
Wren looks up as I approach and her eyes glisten with tears. Guilt washes in that I even considered not letting Khiara go. I rush around the table and take her in my arms, my tears flowing with hers. She and I cling to each other until they run dry.
“I’m sorry,” I say as soon as I can get the words out even though they are interspersed with sobs. “I’m so sorry.”
“No,” she says, shaking her head against mine. “No sorry. I understand. Really.”
We hold onto one another until I at least feel a little better and I hope she does too. The desperation in our grip eases and at last, we step apart. Standing side by side we watch Sek’su breathe. I hate this helpless feeling that there is nothing we can do. The worst part is that there isn’t. The Zmaj and human healers have said it’s a matter of wait and see. They’ve exhausted their skills and knowledge.
Khiara is his last hope.
“Khiara will find what he needs,” I say, faking a certainty that I don’t feel in the slightest.
“Yeah,” Wren says, rubbing her palms over her eyes and then running her fingers through her hair. She looks over at Sek’su with his ragged breathing. “I should?— ”
“No,” I cut her off. “I will handle it.”
“Rosalind?” she asks, arching her eyebrow. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I will handle it,” I say.
“Saylor… you’re not… you never…”
“I know,” I say, raising a hand between us. “I’m not the one who handles this stuff. Never have been but that’s the old me. I’m… no matter what Wren, I’ll figure it out. You need to be here, with him.”
We both look at Sek’su and his breath rattles loudly. It makes my stomach churn hearing that awful sound. Wren’s face is stricken. She looks from him to me, then back again.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I don’t say what I’m sure we both have to be thinking. I don’t want her to not be here if the worst happens. The sense of being helpless, of having no options, is already overwhelming. I have to get into motion on something. Anything.
Ineffectually, I hold my hand to the small of her back, giving her what support I can. She rests one hand on his chest, standing there as she has all along. I look around for something for her to sit on. The Cavern Zmaj aren’t in general, big on furniture. Most of what they use is carved from stone and a lot of it is right out of the mountain itself.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, leaving her with Sek’su.
I go to the outer room and my memory was right. There is a chair pushed against the counter type thing that’s carved from the wall. It’s heavy, too heavy for me to carry, so I drag it. The legs scrape loudly as I tug it in spurts through the room. When I reach the heavy leather door it’s a trick to keep the leather pulled aside while also trying to drag the chair through.
“Here,” Wren says, appearing at my shoulder and holding the leather out of the way.
“Huh,” I huff, out of breath. “Thanks.”
I pull the chair through, and she helps me get it over to where she holds her vigil. I hold out both hands making a show of a dramatic presentation of my gift. She laughs and her face lights up for the first time since this nightmare began.
“Saylor,” she says, her eyes glistening.
Her mouth moves more but no words come out. I don’t know about her, but my throat is clenched tight, and I can’t say anything either. I pull her into a hug, squeezing with all I have. When I let her go, she wipes the unshed tears from her eyes, and I do the same.
“I need to go handle Rosalind,” I say.
She plants a kiss on my forehead, both hands gripping my shoulders tight as she does, and then she lets me go. Choking on my emotions yet again, I turn and leave, intent on making sure that my man is not only safe, but all I can to make sure he saves Wren’s mate.