Spellbound

hall. It was, as it had been when he’d first seen it, a remnant of what it once had been, a place where the wind wound about and the grass and wildflowers forced their way through stony ground.
    But the scent of smoke and blood still stung the air.
    “Bryna.” Panicked, he heaved himself to his feet. And nearly stumbled over her.
    She was sprawled on the ground, one arm outflung. Herface was pale, bruised, her white robe torn and scorched. He fell to his knees, terrified that he would find no pulse, no spark of life. But he found it, beating in her throat, and shuddering with relief, he lowered his lips to hers.
    “Bryna,” he said again. “Bryna.”
    She stirred, her lashes fluttering, her lips moving against his. “Calin. You came back. You fought for me.”
    “You should have known I would.” He lifted her so that he could cradle her against him, resting a cheek on her hair. “How could you have kept it from me? How could you have sent me away?”
    “I did what I thought best. When it came to facing it, I couldn’t risk you.”
    “He hurt you.” He squeezed his eyes tight as he remembered how she’d leaped from safety and been struck down.
    “Small hurts, soon over.” She turned, laid her hands on his face. There were bruises there as well, cuts and burns. “Here.” Gently, she passed her hands over them, took them away. Her face knit in concentration, she knelt and stroked her fingers over his body, skimming where the cloak hadn’t shielded until every wound was gone. “There. No pain,” she murmured. “No more.”
    “You’re hurt.” He lifted her as he rose.
    “It’s a different matter to heal oneself. I have what I need in the cupboard, in the kitchen.”
    “We weren’t alone here. After?”
    “No.” Oh, she was so weary, so very weary. “Family watches over. The white bottle,” she told him as he carried her through the kitchen door and sat her at the table. “The square one, and the small green one with the round stopper.”
    “You have explaining to do, Bryna.” He set the bottles on the table, fetched her a glass. “When you’re stronger.”
    “Yes, we’ve things to discuss.” With an expert hand, an experienced eye, she mixed the potions into the glass, let them swirl and merge until the liquid went clear as plain water. “But would you mind, Calin, I’d like a bath and a change of clothes first.”
    “Conjure it,” he snapped. “I want this settled.”
    “I would do that, but I prefer the indulgence. I’ll ask youfor an hour.” She rose, cupping the glass in both hands. “It’s only an hour, Calin, after all.”
    “One thing.” He put a hand on her arm. “You told me you couldn’t lie to me, that it was forbidden.”
    “And never did I lie to you. But I came close to the line with omission. One hour,” she said on a sigh that weakened him. “Please.”
    He let her go and tried to soothe his impatience by brewing tea. His cloak was gone, he noted, and the sweater she’d woven for him stank of smoke and blood. He stripped it off, tossed it over the back of a chair, then glanced down as the cat came slinking into the room.
    “So how do I handle her now?” Cal cocked his head, studied those bland blue eyes. “Any suggestions? You’d be her familiar, wouldn’t you? Just how familiar are you?”
    Content with the cat for company, he crouched down and stroked the silky black fur. “Are you a shape-shifter too?” He tilted the cat’s head up with a finger under the chin. “Those eyes looked at me from out of the face of a white stag.”
    Letting out a breath, he simply sat on the floor, let the cat step into his lap and knead. “Let me tell you something, Hecate. If a two-headed dragon walked up and knocked on the kitchen door, I wouldn’t blink an eye. Nothing is ever going to surprise me again.”
     
    But he was wrong about that. He was stunned with surprise when Bryna came downstairs again. She was as he’d seen her the night before, when her power had glowed in her face, striking it with impossible beauty.
    “You were beautiful before,” he managed, “but now…Is this real?”
    “Everything’s real.” She smiled, took his hand. “Would you walk with me, Cal? I’m wanting the air and the sun.”
    “I have questions, Bryna.”
    “I know it,” she said as they stepped outside. Her body felt light again, free of aches. Her mind was clear. “You’re angry because you feel I deceived you, but it wasn’t deception.”
    “You