“She killed a sluagh all on her own,” Krivoth says.
“Impossible!” the unicorn says.
“I do not lie,” Krivoth growls. “My bride is amazing.”
“So what’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know!” Krivoth snaps.
“Then let me try to heal her.” The unicorn’s horn fills my view.
“No!” Krivoth says. “Because if that works—”
“If it works, it means she’ll die without it, so let me do it!” Storm snaps.
Mist puts a huge paw on Krivoth’s shoulder, her claws extended just enough to prick the linen. “Let the unicorn try.”
Krivoth’s lips twist away from his tusks in a way that makes my heart ache, and I long to reach out to him and tell him I’m okay.
But I can’t, because I’m not.
He gathers himself, controlling his expression, and nods. “Do it.”
Storm’s horn grows larger, then slides to the side and out of view like it’s touching my shoulder.
I don’t feel anything.
Storm lifts his head and shakes it, sending his mane flying. “It’s good news and bad news. The good news is she’s not on death’s door. The bad news is my healing magic can therefore do nothing for her.”
“It was worth trying,” Mist says. “We’re no worse off than we were before, and you might have saved her life.” It’s the kindest she’s ever been to Storm, and I want to give her a hug. She’s got a good heart underneath all that cattitude.
Krivoth nods, his eyes searching my face. His shoulders move, and his hand touches my cheek.
I can feel it! Skin to skin, the hum of his magic calls to mine. It hurts—oh, god the place inside me that holds my magic hurts so much!—but it’s better than feeling effing nothing.
I suck in a pained gasp and breathe out, “Krivoth.”
“Taylor!” Relief fills his voice as he wraps me in a tight hug.
Mist’s sandpaper tongue licks my cheek, and Storm snuffles at my hair. I can feel it through the pain—all of their affection and Krivoth’s strong arms locked around me.
Nothing’s ever felt better.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Krivoth
“You saved us, Taylor.” I choke out the words, my throat clogged with emotion, the horror and rage of losing to the soul stealer replaced by wonder and thankfulness. My miraculous bride singlehandedly destroyed a sluagh! I squeeze her to me. “You saved both our lives.”
“Enough, orc,” Storm says. “Let her breathe.”
I want to lash out and bat him away, even though I know he speaks true.
It’s almost impossible to unlock my arms. I want nothing more than to hold her for the rest of my days. I ease her down to the ground.
As soon as we lose skin contact, she gasps and some of the tension pinching her face eases.
“Are you okay?” I ask.