Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-four

Mending

I smelled Emily's shampoo, and my mouthturned up at the corners. I was lying face down on clean cottonsheets, one arm under pillows, the other draped over the side of abed. When I opened my eyes, she was inches away, watching me.

"Hi," I said in a gravellyvoice.

She bit her lip and swallowed hard."Hi."

The bedding beneath me was a deep shade ofburgundy, and I knew we were no longer in the Fordham house. Iglanced briefly around the room. Antique cherry dresser, highlyornate vintage armoire-this would be Southmont.

"How are you?" I askedEmily, and a shaky, breathless laugh escaped her. She'd beenwatching me for how long? Worried because I'd been shot. I rolledto my side to face her, cupped a hand on her cheek. "I'mfine."

She was suddenly crying, and I pulled her tome for a hug. "What is it?" I whispered. "Is it Brianna?"

She tilted her head to look at me, wipingabsently at her cheek. "No, I... I'm sorry. Everything is fine." Shetook a deep breath. "Brianna is downstairs. She's had a lot of workto do, but she's fine. Everyone, everyone is fine."

I sat up, keeping her near as I moved toquestion her.

She waved a hand. "Logan said you would ask.He said they were trained men, but never hit a lethal mark.Something about brotherhood"-she took another deep breath, this oneseemed to steady her-"and that Morgan hadn't prepared them ahead oftime. He said to tell you that was what saved us." A bit of guiltcrossed her face and she looked away.

"What else,Emily?"

She sighed heavily. "And me," she said. "Hesaid to tell you me."

Relief flooded me, but I managed to narrowmy eyes on her. "So you have Logan taking your side now?"

Her gaze swept up to mine, still damp withtears, and I could see her repentance. "It was so stupid," shesaid. "I could have messed up everything."

"It was stupid," I said,bringing her chin back up. "But thank you."

My wrists were clean and smooth. Istretched, testing out my side. "I feel great, actually. How longwas I out?"

She glanced at the clock. "About six hours,"she said.

"No, I meanaltogether."

She looked at the clock once more, nodding."Yeah, that's about right. The doctors stitched you up a bit." Sheglanced down, twisting the hem of her clean white shirt. "They mademe go take a shower." She looked sick at the memory of leaving me,shot in five or six places, and then swallowed hard. "And thenBrianna saw you."

It seemed to be an explanation, though atfirst I couldn't understand why. This amount of damage, surgeon orno, should have taken much, much longer to heal. And then, slowly,her words fell together. Brianna was downstairs, she had a lot ofwork to do, but everyone was fine.

I stared at her.

She nodded.

I closed my eyes for one long moment,remembering the words they'd shared in the tunnel before ourescape. Brianna had said she bore her mother's gifts. Plural. Animage of the wounds Emily had left on my arms came then, and theway they'd healed in minutes instead of days. Without the benefitof sleep.

"Brianna is a healer," Ibreathed. I should have felt it in her touch, should haveknown.

"No," Emily said,confused.

"But..." I glanced down,feeling nothing but well. "How..."

She grimaced. "Briannadidn't heal you, Aern." She placed a hand over my palm. "Shefixed you."

I sat still for so long, Emily's headtilted, as if she wasn't certain I was behind my vacant stare.

When I blinked, she spoke again. "She madethose connections, Aern. The ones our mother taught her to." Iopened my mouth with a horrified protest, but she stopped me. "Notall of them, not the ones with the influence," she explained. "Justto help you all heal faster."

"Oh, Emily," I breathed."She should never have done that. Brendan, the others, if they knowshe has this-"

She held up a hand, stopping me again. "Itisn't like that, Aern. They already suspected she had a gift, butthey don't know. They don't truly understand." She glanced aroundthe room, and I could tell she was speaking with caution. "Theysimply think she can help them recover faster. That's all."

Her eyes spoke more than her words could.None of them knew she was a prophet. None of them knew she couldaffect their sway. They didn't know how their mother had died, thatBrianna could give them Morgan's power. That Emily was thechosen.

She let me process the information for avery long time, sitting silently before me, hand still restingpatiently within mine. After everything that had happened,everything that could still come about, she was here.

The scope of it all fell into place. I wasone of them, one of the monsters she'd been warned her whole lifeto stay away from, to protect Brianna from, and she had riskedeverything to save me. I yearned to draw her closer, to touch herface once more, gods, to press my lips to hers. But it was abetrayal.

I gripped her shoulders, placing her severalinches back from where I sat. The action troubled her, but I heldfirm. "Emily," I said, "there is something I have to tell you. Ishould have told you long ago." My chest tightened. This was goingto crush her. "It was about Brianna." I rubbed a hand over myforearm. "But now it concerns you."

She waited, distress playing across herfeatures.

"The reason Morgan wantedBrianna-" Gods, how did I explain this? "The way that he needsher..."

Emily nodded. "The prophecy. They wouldcreate a union."

"A bond," I said. "Anactual, tangible link."

She moved closer. "I know, Aern. Iunderstand. But Morgan will never have me."

I stiffened, completely thrown by her words.By the idea of Morgan... "No," I said, pushing her back. "That's notwhat I'm trying to say."

She stayed this time, waiting for me tofinish.

"Not Morgan," I explained."The Division. The reason they want me, the reason they've beenafter me for so long"-I found my gaze wandering, focusing onanything but the expression on her face-"is that they've read theprophecy differently." My throat went dry. "They think that theunion, this bond, can be created by any heir to the dragon's name.By either Morgan..." My eyes met hers. "Or me."

She sat silent for an eternity of seconds,then said, "I know."

I stared at her. And then, "What?"

"I know," she said. "Mymother told me, some time ago." She shrugged. "I just didn't thinkit would be me, is all." Her voice dropped lower. "But it is me.And I'm glad, Aern. I'm glad that it is me, and that it'syou."

A rush of emotion, too fast, too broad tosort into anything, surged through me, and I was moving for her.She had known. All along, she had known.

I pulled her into my embrace, and she drewtighter against me. She had been waiting for this, since I hadfound her mark, she had accepted it. Her arms around my shoulders,I pressed my lips hard against hers, regaining all of those momentsI'd denied myself the touch, and she melted into me, her breath asoft moan of relief. The kiss was deep, fire and passion andunpinned desire. My hands slid lower down her back, squeezing herto me, and she slid her legs over mine. She smelled of sweet peaand strawberries, and something all her own.

Her head tilted back as she tried to catchher breath and I trailed kisses down the line of her neck, stoppingjust above her chest, at the tiny divot centering her collarbone,to collect myself. She was mine, she was in my arms, and she wasmine.

My hand slipped beneath the hem of hershirt, finding the heat of her lower back as my mouth skimmed overher throat on its return to hers. The kiss became gentle, teasing,and soft. My hand slid over the length of her thigh, and then up,touching the skin between her open collar, the pulse hammering atthe base of her neck, and into the caramel waves of her hair. Hereyes came open, hazy and gratified, and the soft, deep green of thesea. Our lips drew apart and we simply watched one another, both ofus knowing we could stare into these eyes forever, and then ithappened. And it was a coming home.

It was peace, settling deep within my chest,a feeling of rightness. It made me whole, and it threatened to tearme apart. A longing so intense it was painful tore at me, and Iknew I would never get enough of her. I could never leave her. Itwould always be Emily.

Emily.

I realized I'd spoken then, murmured hername, and she gasped.

"Did you feel that?" shewhispered.

We sat pressed together, face to face, butit was as if our souls were suddenly seamed, bound so tightly as tobe one.

"It's the bond," Isaid.

She stared at me in stunned astonishment."It's like, like my insides are tied."

I automatically gave her space. "Is thatwhat it feels like to you?"

I could hear the worry in my tone, and Irealized I'd been afraid of what it would be for her. None of theelders had known how the bond would affect the chosen, what itwould do to one without our power.

Panic slammed intome. What if it has enslaved her? Like thesway.

She blinked, searching my face. "No, it'slike... Like lacing up a good pair of running shoes-"

The fear waned at her denial, but when herwords sank in, the short-lived determination to hold my expressionfaltered.

"... that feeling, when youhave them good and snug," she said, her gesturing hand falling torest over my heart. "That security."

My chest eased. I felt a tug at the cornerof my mouth. I cleared my throat. "Did you just compare our bond torunning shoes?"

She stared at me a moment, searching for abetter comparison for something so indescribable. Her brow curvedspeculatively. "A five-point racing harness?"

I laughed, and then pulled her closer. Thewords felt right in the old tongue, and I knew she would understandthem. Loosely translated, the sentiment was something like, "love'sembrace," as I spoke them low, to the only woman who would everhear them again.

Her skin flushed and she repeated them backbefore leaning forward, suddenly desperate for another kiss.