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“No.” My voice broke a little. “But you can’t fix them, can you?”
She took my hand again, examining it. Stalling, because the answer stood clearly in her mind for me to read. “I cannot,” she admitted aloud, letting go. “This is an outgrowth of your magic. Much the same as—” she threw a questioning look to Rogue, “—your syndrome.”
“The Sorceress is aware of it,” Rogue replied in a clipped tone. He barely controlled the massive Black Dog that drew life from his magic, and disliked being reminded of it.
Lady Healer had warned me not to think of the Black Dog here, on that first visit, seeming afraid of it. Now I had my own version, some sort of pale feline spirit created by my magic, struggling to break free of my flesh.A vine twisting in your soul, Rogue had called it.
“Same situation,” she continued. “That sort of transformation belongs to another realm. I can no more affect it than I could defeat either of you in a duel.”
“Then what can I do?”
She gave me the look that doctors of all sorts developed when delivering news to irascible patients. “You can learn to live with it or you can retract them yourself.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Can’t you teach her?” she asked Rogue.
“Not this, no.” His gaze rested on me, while his thoughts ran deep and private.
“Then you’ll have to figure it out for yourself, Lady Sorceress.” She dusted off her hands.
“Wait.” I stopped her before she stood. “Can you tell me—I’m pregnant. How fares the embryo after all this?”
She tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled in truth. “I sensed that but wasn’t sure if that was common knowledge or not.” Nice that she observed the fae version of privacy laws. “May I?”
When I nodded, she placed her hands over my abdomen. Rogue drew near, watching intently. Healer’s smile stayed serene. “The babe is well. Congratulations to you both. I assume there will be a wedding soon?” She frowned at Rogue. “She should at least be wearing a sign of your protection. You don’t need me to tell you that.”
He raised a supercilious eyebrow at her and she winced a little. “Lord Rogue,” she added.
“I don’t need protection,” I grumbled. “Or, for that matter, a—”
“Yes, there will be a wedding,” he confirmed, glaring at me not to argue, “and her jewelry is here.” He opened his hand, revealing my earrings on his palm. Shaped like inverted lilies, shading from lightest blue to indigo, they had been a gift from him. One not intended to come off. “Their loss was temporary.”
Because I’d figured out how to remove the magical things—I don’t much like having anything beyond my control—and then sent them to him in Titania’s castle as a message.
“Excellent.” Healer beamed at me, patting my belly. “Make sure he does right by you, Sorceress Gwynn. Even Lord Rogue cannot escape this particular leash.” She stood. “I’ll leave you to rest.”
“We need to discuss payment.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Rogue folded his arms, just to top off the continuing glare.
“Like hell,” I snapped back.
They both tilted their heads slightly, the simile failing to translate.
“Allow me to rephrase. No.”
“Are you refusing me, stubborn Gwynn?” Rogue asked softly, dangerously. Enough so to give me pause to sort through his phrasing. Clearly we needed to talk this through. I’d really thought the wedding nonsense was done with. The earrings declared me to be his concubine, which worked fine for me.
“I want to pay this debt myself,” I answered, keeping my intent simple and clear.
“You have dragon eggs, I hear,” Healer jumped in. “That would be a fair trade.”
Behind her, Rogue shook his head slightly.
“My caravan has not yet arrived,” I temporized, “and I really have no idea what state everything is in.”
“Fine.” She pouted a little. “We can negotiate when your servants arrive. Good evening to you both.”
