“It’s home you must come.”
“Soon, aghra. Two weeks, no more.”
“Tomorrow you must ride with all haste. My heart, my warrior.” She cupped his face. “We have need of you.”
“And I of you.” He rolled over onto the vision of her, lowered his mouth to hers.
“Not for the bed, though oh, I ache for you. Every day, every night. I need your sword, I need you by my side. Cabhan attacked today.”
Daithi sprang up, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Are you hurt? The children?”
“No, no. But nearly. He grows stronger, and I weaker. I fear I can’t hold him.”
“There is none stronger than you. He will never touch the Dark Witch.”
Her heart broke at his faith in her, for she could no longer earn it. “I’m not well.”
“What is this?”
“I didn’t wish to burden you, and . . . no, my pride. I valued it too much, but now I cast it away. I fear what comes, Daithi. I fear him. I cannot hold him without you. For our children, for our lives, come home.”
“I will ride tonight. I will bring men with me, and ride for home.”
“At first light. Wait for the light, for the dark is his. And be swift.”
“Two days. I will be home with you in two days. And Cabhan will know the bite of my sword. I swear it.”
“I will watch for you, and wait for you. I am yours in this life and all that come.”
“Heal, my witch.” He brought her hands to his lips. “It’s all I will ever ask of you.”
“Come home, and I will heal.”
“Two days.”
“Two days.” She kissed him, holding tight and close. And carried the kiss with her as she flew back over the mirror of the moon and the green hills.
She came back into her body, tired, so tired, but stronger as well. The magick between them flowed rich, flowed true.
Two days, she thought, and closed her eyes. While he rode to her she would rest, she would let the magick build again. Keep the children close, draw in the light.
She slept again; she dreamed again.
And saw in her dream he didn’t wait for the light. He mounted in the moonlight, under the cold stars. His face was fierce as his horse danced over the hard ground.
His horse lunged forward, far outpacing the mounts of the three men who rode with him.
Using the moonlight and the stars, Daithi rode for home, for his family, for his woman. For the Dark Witch he loved more than his life.
When the wolf leaped out of the dark, he barely had time to clear his sword from its sheath. Daithi struck out, but cut through only air as the horse reared. Fog rose like gray walls, trapping him, blocking his men.
He fought, but the wolf sprang over the blade, time after time, snapping out with its jaws, swiping viciously with claws only to vanish into the fog. Only to charge out from it again.
She flew to reach him, soaring over those hills again, across the water.
She knew when those jaws tore, knew when the blood spilled from his heart—from hers. Her tears fell like rain, washing away the fog. Crying his name, she dropped to the ground beside him.
She tried her strongest spell, her most powerful charm, but his heart would not beat again.