Page 62 of Fire & Ice

"As always." Beau chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to her waiting lips. "Come, then. Our meal awaits."

Tempest rose gracefully, slipping into Beau's arms. "Lead the way."

Arm in arm, they made their way to the small table where their dinner had been laid out. Beau eyed the blood wine eagerly, already anticipating its rich, blood red taste.

"Shall we make a toast?" he asked, reaching for the bottle.

"To us," Tempest hummed, "and many more moons like this."

"To us," Beau echoed, pouring two glasses of the wine, and handing one to Tempest.

She accepted it, brushing her fingers against his, and raised the glass higher. "To forever."

"To forever," Beau said softly as he placed his glass down to uncover their dishes.

Tempest flashed hum a coy smile before taking a sip of the bloodwine. The sweet, metallic taste of it burst over her tongue as warmth spread through her veins.

Within moments, her limbs grew heavy. The glass slipped from her fingers, shattering on the floor. Darkness pooled at the edges of her vision, Beau's panicked shouts fading into the distance as she tumbled into oblivion.

Tempest struggled against the enveloping darkness, panic rising in her chest. What was happening? Her limbs refused to obey her commands, as if they were weighted down by lead.

Beau caught her as she fell, clutching her against him. "Tempest! Tempest, wake up!" He shook her gently, then more insistently, dread etching lines in his face. "Tempest, this isn't funny. Wake up!"

She tried to speak, to reassure him she was alright, but her lips wouldn't move. Her eyes remained closed, as if glued shut. She was a prisoner in her own body.

Beau laid her on the bed, pacing around the room and raking his hands through his hair. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his emotions a chaotic storm she could sense even in her paralyzed state.

Fear and anguish warred within him. He paused beside the bed, reaching out to brush her hair away from her face. She felt the feather-light touch but couldn't respond.

"I'll find who did this to you," he whispered. "I swear it. And they will pay."

Rage simmered beneath his words, barely contained. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before stalking from the room, his purpose evident in his determined strides.

Deakon would soon regret poisoning her, of that she had no doubt. Beau's wrath would be swift and terrible, the vengeance he sought absolute.

She could only hope he succeeded - and found a way to break whatever curse held her in its grip. She couldn't remain like this forever, trapped, and helpless. There had to be a way out of this endless dark.

Chapter 51

He had to get out of here before the others realized what was truly going on. Beau's guards were too observant, and Lacey didn't trust Marcus as far as he could throw him. Lacey pulled his cloak over his face and slipped out the back of the castle into the night. The trees loomed like silent sentinels as he made his way down the overgrown path toward the river.

He followed through the garden maze to where Sara had said she would take Beau, the river cottage. The scent of ash and death lingered in the small stone cottage. Lacey's chest tightened as he stepped across the threshold, his boots crunching on the debris littering the floor. His gaze landed on the urn sitting atop the table, a grim reminder of what had been done. He gritted his teeth, rage, and guilt warring within him. This was his fault. He should have protected her, instead of trusting her to Charlie's planning.

"I'm so sorry, Sara," he whispered. He strode to the table and grasped the edge to steady himself, the wood cool beneath his hands. "I won't fail you again."

"I know this is dangerous," he said as if Sara could hear. "But I have to try. You didn't deserve this fate. You should be by my side, not trapped in some vase."

He arranged the candles and herbs around the ashes covering the floor. Kneeling beside them, he dipped his hands in ashes and lifted them, rivulets streaming between his fingers.

"Sara, I call upon the ancient gift the moon goddess blessed me with to restore your life. Blood of my blood, rise and awaken once more."

He sliced his palm and let the blood drip onto the floor. The ashes began to glow and swirl as the magic took hold. Lacey watched in awe as the ashes coalesced into flesh and bone. Sara's body reformed until she lay curled within the urn, pale and whole once more.

Deakon reached down and pulled her close. Her skin was cold, but the flesh gave beneath his fingers.

"Sara," he whispered. "Wake up."

Sara's eyes flew open, with a gasp. Confusion glazed her eyes, after being pulled so violently for the innerworld.

---