Page 99 of Visions & Shadows

I open my eyes and look into the same green eyes as my own, only they’re older and filled with horror.

The love and intensity that fills me is overwhelming as I realize I’m looking at my father.

Memories of happy moments in my childhood flash through my mind.

“Alchera. Oh, my Alchera,” he weeps. He falls to his knees, holding me as tenderly as he possibly can.

For a moment, he cries into my hair, and silent tears of my own join his.

When he lifts his head, he orders with the power of a King brimming in his voice, “Hunt down that woman! We leave at dawn. Adeth willdiefor this!”

He buries his face in my bloody, knotted hair, and all I can do is whimper, “Dad?”

“Please, forgive me,” he groans. “I’ve failed you.”

“My King, we need to tend to her,” Aster says softly behind us, but I have no intention of letting go of my father. Not after all these years.

He gets up without loosening his hold on me and walks into a tent, and I can feel Raighne close by.

Taking a seat, my father places me on his lap while cradling me in his arms like a baby.

God, even though it hurts like hell, it feels so good to be held by him.

“You may tend to her in my arms,” Dad orders before pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

Many different fragrances fill the air in a matter of seconds. Someone begins to wash my arms, and another starts on my legs. I keep my eyes locked on my father, trying to brace for a world of pain.

After long minutes of them cleaning me, Aster murmurs, “I’m afraid we’ll have to cut her hair.”

I have no say in the matter as my father mutters, “Do what you must.” He brushes his hand over my cheek, and his tone is loving when he whispers, “It will grow back, my sweet girl.”

My sweet girl.

The term of endearment makes tears leak from my eyes, and I squeeze them shut.

I feel as they cut my hair, and once they’re done, Aster says, “You need to place her on the bed, Your Highness. We need to tend to her back.”

Reluctantly, my father climbs to his feet and carefully helps me to sit on the side of a bed.

Aster starts to pull a curtain around the bed, then glances at my father. “We need to remove her underwear.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead, then tells me, “I’m right outside.”

I nod and watch as he leaves. When Raighne doesn’t budge a muscle, Aster gives him a questioning look.

He shakes his head hard, “I’m not leaving her side.”

“She needs privacy,” Aster argues.

He moves in behind me, then says, “Tend to her wounds, Aster. I’m not leaving my charge.”

“Stubborn boy,” she chastises him before turning her attention back to me.

I cross my right arm over my chest while my broken one lies limplyat my side.

At first, I feel nothing as they get to work. There’s only a weird tugging sensation as they pry the bra straps loose from the scabbed-over welts.

When I sway forward and almost fall off the bed, Raighne moves fast, and within a second, he’s in front of me. He wraps his hand around the back of my head and allows me to rest my cheek against his abdomen.

---