Robin Owens - Heart Fortune

No, NO! You MUST die for making her leave me! shrieked a mad wind in Jace’s head, Trago. He felt a slight tug, as if a small hook caught in his clothes. He could not allow the evil man to hurt his Glyssa. They were all in this together. Diverting a bit of Flair, he smacked the man. Heard some long echoing scream. Jerked as he felt the guy die. The visualization vanished.

He scrambled to build the image again, held it hard.

But knew they were in trouble.

Teleportation usually was instantaneous. But this lasted for long, long seconds. Glyssa’s chest squeezed and she couldn’t breathe. She struggled to draw air. What of Jace? What of Lepid? She didn’t feel them, not physically nor emotionally. A scream stuck in her chest hurt .

She would die alone. Though they should all be together, they would each die alone.

She might have felt the tiniest boost from Laev and Camellia and Tiana. She did “see” a great burst of white energy from the direction they were going—Druida. Had the sensation of passing long miles.

No! Stup! Visualize your room! The light as autumn came, the slant of the sun. How it sparkled on the prisms in her window. Her comforter, her bed . . .

And her vision went black, white, yellow.

She crumpled to the ground, tried once more to drag a breath in, couldn’t. Struggled to open her lashes. Raw, raw pain against her eyeballs. Jace, matted hair, gray-looking complexion. Lepid limp in her arms. She couldn’t see Zem.

Still felt none of them.

Couldn’t inhale.

The floor vibrated. She thought she saw bold, eye-searing colors of Flair as women rushed to her.

Then nothing.

Fists pounded on Jace’s chest, Flair enveloped him. “Breathe, damn you!” shouted someone. It hurt, all of him hurt, but with another compression of his chest, he hauled in air.

He opened his eyes, saw a pretty rug on gleaming wood. Memory spun just out of reach.

Someone rolled him to his back and he stared up into wide green eyes set in a fierce face. The woman looked like someone he should know. She stuck her fingers into his dry mouth, opened it, shoved an oxygen bulb between his lips and squeezed.

Incredible air. Wonderful air. His mind cleared a bit. He still didn’t know who she was, but he recognized Glyssa’s bedroom.

Shouldn’t Glyssa be close? Where was she? He needed her.

“ Breathe! ” someone shouted to his left. There came a tiny sound, then the stench of foxy piss, definitely not Glyssa.

Glyssa? The little call speared excruciating pain in his head. A tiny moan, also not Glyssa. Lepid? Jace slowly formed the Fam’s name in his head.

“We’re here,” said a woman’s voice from a distance. “We’re taking the Fams immediately.” A small woman and a large young man ran in, cast shadows on him but didn’t look at him, then darted from the room.

Another thump on Jace’s chest, the bulb replaced. He’d caught his breath, hadn’t he? Stopped breathing again.

Lepid was here, but where was Glyssa? More fear swept through him. Zem! Zem should have been strapped on his chest.

Why?

He shut his eyes, but shuddered at the darkness behind him. Fear of the dark clawed and snapped and ate at him.

Opening his eyelids he saw the sunlight, blessed light from Bel, felt as if he’d been reborn from an alien and cold dark to this wonderful room. The Healer was wiping him with a warm cloth, taking strange smelling grime from his face.

The ship! Lugh’s Spear. The terrible risk of teleportation.

He’d made it!

But had the others? GLYSSA! he screamed mentally, hurting his own head. He couldn’t feel their bond, fumbled for it. Closed his eyes again to find all the bonds he had, saw nothing. Not to Lepid, not to Zem, not to Glyssa.

She could have died. HeartBound people did, and the remaining spouse died within the year. He wouldn’t linger if she was gone . . . just let the darkness take him, not fight against death and cycling on the wheel of stars until his next life . . . and no one could guarantee that they’d meet and love again in their next lives. Maybe she’d like someone else better.

Stup! He should have cherished her more, spent more time with her, acknowledged their bond instead of being careless and selfish for so long.

The Healer moved close with another bulb. “Glyssa,” he said. She frowned as if she hadn’t heard him. Everything took so much effort.

“Glyssa!” he yelled. Her name came out as the barest hoarse whisper.

A mask slipped over the Healer’s face, and he knew that was bad .

“Glyssa has been transported to Primary HealingHall and is being tended by FirstLevel Healer Lark Holly.”

For sure, bad.

“Want . . . there,” he said.

Frowning, the Healer bent close to his lips.

“Want. To. Go. To. Her,” he said, once again using up all his strength. Lord and Lady knew how long it would take to regain regular energy and Flair, weeks, months, years ?

“I’m not sure that would be good for either of you.”

“HeartMates, HeartBound!”

“Oh!” She looked into the other room. “Can you come help me get GentleSir Bayrum into a glider?” With an anti-grav spell, she raised his body. “We’ve all decided that teleporting you is not a good idea.”

He shuddered, rippling in the air, a very weird sensation. A big tough-looking guy came in. “Remove the spell, I’ll carry him.”

Jace grimaced.

“I don’t think so, Garrett, he’s not breathing well on his own. No putting him over your shoulder. I want him flat.”

“Zem?” Jace managed before she stuck another bulb in his mouth and watched with narrowed eyes as it went in and out as he breathed.

“Your Fams are with Danith D’Ash and her son.”

He should have known that, hadn’t he heard them? What was wrong with him? He sucked harder on the bulb.

“You’ll be fine,” the Healer said.

He wasn’t sure of that, and when he bumped against the stairway rail and blackness overcame him again, he screamed into the darkness before it gobbled him.

Jace awoke sometime later, disgusted with himself. He’d never been afraid of the dark. He’d always been excited by going down into Lugh’s Spear . Granted, the last few septhours trapped there had not been fun. Or even good. But they’d been manageable. Even taking the risk to die fast instead of slow had been okay.

He didn’t know when he’d get the nerve to teleport again.

A groan escaped him and he tried to open his eyes. Footsteps bustled up to him and gently wiped his eyelids with a warm softleaf. His eyes must have crusted over, then, and why now? Why not when he awoke the first time? Had he wept, had stuff leaked out of his eyes due to fear? Had he bled ?

But he pried his lashes open to look around. Still felt like moving a mountain to turn his head. He was in the richest room he’d ever experienced in his life—some sort of tapestry-type curtains of deep green and light blue shimmered. The chairs and counters were of a solid, gleaming dark wood. He lay on an excellent bedsponge and atop him draped a soft cover. But his senses weren’t so dull that he didn’t know a HealingHall room when he was in one.

Slowly, moving in tiny increments, he straightened his head, turned it toward the right.

And saw Glyssa. He jolted, adrenaline rushed into his body and it managed to jacknife him up.

“Easy,” said the Healer, bracing his upper arms with her hands.