Page 4 of Destined

“Tara did that,” Kayla said, then she gave the dancer a strange look. “I should also mention that we figured out who my real sister is: Christine.”

As Ryan and his warriors stared at both women, the dancer bent and tugged Colm’s dagger from the flopping tentacle. Without looking, she threw it at a Dark Fae running toward them. Thanks to her Fae gift of absolute precision, the blade buried itself in his chest and dropped him like a toppled statue.

“We can tell that story when we don’t have Blackstone assholes about to overrun us,” Christine said. “Kayla, come on. We need the horses.”

“Wait a sec,” Kayla said. She dashed over to Gavan, and reached for his face. “I think I can help. Close your eyes.”

Ryan frowned as he watched her cradle his jousting partner’s bloody face between her palms. “Kayla love, his wounds are not so grave, and you cannot heal him by… Blind me.”

Blue light illuminated her hands and Gavan’s face. As it sank into the warrior’s flesh, the wounds marring it began to shrink and vanish. Ryan heard a low, soft sound humming in the air, and realized it was coming from her. He exchanged a look with Colm, who also watched the healing with narrowed eyes.

“There,” Kayla said. She stepped back and smiled up at Gavan’s uninjured features. “You look much better not shredded. Come on, Christine.”

Ryan watched the women trot off toward the barn. His men came to flank him, but neither spoke until Kayla was out of earshot.

“When did your lady become a touch-healer?” Colm asked.

“I daresay she has always been.” Ryan studied Gavan’s face. “What did her power feel like to you?”

“Sunlight and rain,” the warrior murmured back as he stroked his jaw. “She did not seem to know she was singing, but I felt it in my bones.”

“’Twas said that spellsingers are deaf to their own magick.” His gaze shifted. “The Blackstones come, Ryan.”

“I know.” He turned to Gavan. “Not a word of this to anyone.” He glanced at Colm, who also nodded.

Jannon came out of the trees. “The bloody dragons are attacking the Dark Fae’s creatures. They’re burning them.” He peered up at the fire-lit sky and gaped. “Is that Tara astride that monster?”

“Aye, she leads the attack against the monsters,” Colm declared. He drew his sword as the first wave of Blackstones ran toward them. “Now let us dispatch their little brothers.”

The rest of the Forever Faire warriors converged around them as they faced the Dark Fae. Ryan clamped down on his temper as he waded into the Blackstone attackers, who quailed as soon as they recognized him. It made them easy to disable and disarm. He had divested a dozen of their weapons when the women arrived with the horses. Mounting Titan, Ryan rode through the Blackstones, clubbing heads with the hilt of his blade as he searched for their leader.

“You must not have all the pleasure, my liege,” Colm said as he rode up beside him, and reined in Grania. She tossed her head with impatience. “Save some for the rest of us.”

Ryan scanned the fray around them. “Do you see that bastard who leads them?”

Dirk’s men began turning and running to jump into the shadows, but Ryan heard Dirk shout furiously at his men to remain and fight. Ryan spotted him at the water’s edge, kicking one of the dead water creatures. Ryan dismounted and strode to him.

“Sheridan,” Dirk sneered.

The Dark Fae raised his sword and advanced a step before the smaller, rodent-faced man at his side hissed something to him.

“Your groom’s sister suffers greatly in my care,” Dirk said. “Give Kayla Rowe to me, and I will put an end to it.”

“Indeed,” Ryan said, and pointed up at Fallon. “From my view she seems to be having a wonderful time.”

When Dirk looked up, Ryan punched him in the jaw. As the Dark Fae reeled backward, the smaller man lunged between them, and lifted his hand to the sky. A bolt of lightning blazed down, nearly striking Ryan. When his eyes cleared, both Dark Fae had vanished.

Jannon sheathed his sword as he and Colm joined Ryan.

“The dragons have charred the last of the water creatures,” Jannon said.

That was all Ryan needed to hear. He tossed his sword to Jannon and dove into the lake—directly where Wallace had disappeared. He swam furiously into the murky depths, past the burned bodies of the tentacled monsters. Though darkness gathered the deeper he went, Ryan pressed on. A mortal would have drowned, but perhaps not a–

There was a flash of gold in his peripheral vision. With his lungs beginning to ache, Ryan quickly changed direction. He darted around the swirling debris and saw it again, just ahead. It was the blacksmith’s belt buckle. Ryan grabbed it, untangled him from a limp tentacle, and kicked frantically for the surface. When he and Wallace bobbed clear of the water, Ryan gulped air. He swam for the shore, dragging Wallace in his wake. Colm and Jannon waded in to help him carry the big man to the embankment.

“He is drowned,” Jannon said, looking sick.

“The nine hells he is,” Ryan said, and drove his fist into the smith’s broad chest.