Free Embers by Helen Kirkman Page A

burning flesh, fragments of leaf clinging to her damp skin: white horehound, feverfew. And vervain that held magic. The coolness of her breath mingled with his.
    "I never left you in my mind, in my heart. You were always there and you always will be. If you leave now, if you pass into the shadows, I will go with you. That is how it will be with us, always."
    She was aware, in some other part of her brain, that Duda was on his feet, might be moving toward her. The thought did not stop her, nothing that belonged to the world could. Her hands held him, fragrant leaves crushed against his skin.
    "You will not go. You will live. I know you will, because you will not leave with so much still to be done. With so many who need you. Because that is what you do. Abide with people and help them and understand their pain. You will not go. I know it even if you do not. It does not matter if you do not know. I know it for you."
    His skin burned.

CHAPTER FIVE

    Alina woke in the same position as before, with her head jammed into his chest and her body curled up tightly into a ball, like a frightened child's.
    He did not stir.
    It was like waking into the same nightmare. Except it was not the pure cold light of dawn against her eyelids, it was a flickering golden glow, and she knew exactly where she was.
    She could not have slept. Not at this time. It was not possible. How long? How long had she slept and why had no one woken her? Duda? Cunan? The monks?
    The red-yellow glow beat against her eyelids: torchlight mixed with the light from the hearth in the monastery chamber. Fire's heat.
    She could not open her eyes.
    "Duda…"
    He would be there, the Anglian werewolf, lurking on his side of the bed like some angry, despairing spirit. He would be able to tell her.
    "Duda?"
    There was nothing. Not a sound.
    There was no one there. The chamber was empty. They had left her alone.
    They had left Brand alone.
    How could they have done that?
    She twisted round, opening her eyes, forcing her useless limbs into movement. She turned her head.
    The aching sobs, suppressed all night, rose chokingly in her throat, found their way out at last, so that her stiffened body was racked with them.
    The sobs would not stop. Even though she should not cry. Not now.
    But then that was what had the power to rend the heart most truly, not death, but life.
    She buried her head in flesh that was scarcely warm, that was cool, blessedly, miraculously cool. She wrapped her arms round it, buried her hands in it, her whole body. Held it close, in her embrace, because just for that moment, it was hers.
    He slept. Not like before when she had woken beside him in the morning under the trees, but with a quality that was quite different. Peace. It took her a while to recognize what it was. Because it was something that she had dreamed of all her life and seldom experienced.
    It was something they had never had.
    She did not want to rob him of such an unlooked-for gift. She should move away, leave him, but she could not go. She was bound as though under a double spell. Caught by him, and caught by that elusive quality you could never hold but which had lighted on him at this moment like a gift from heaven. It was just there in the simplicity and the softness of his breath, in his touch.
    She lowered her head with infinite caution, dreading waking him, breaking the spell. She laid her head against his chest, but even with that slight movement, she felt his breathing change. He would wake—
    "Alina…" His voice was roughened, fathoms deep, but not harsh. It could have been part of the dream-spell.
    She raised her head. His eyes watched her, wide, scarcely focused, their brightness hazed, still half in the dream world.
    "You are real."
    She smiled. She could not help it. But she was frightened by it because the smile might show what was inside: the all-consuming joy that was the other side of the terrible fear she had felt. She tried to think, to be practical. To pull herself out