Heart Fortune

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.

“I should know you,” he replied. Still sounded terrible, but the words came out at a reasonable pace and loudness.

She smiled, more than just a Healer’s smile, something personal for him. “Artemisia Primross, I’m the sister to Tiana Mugwort, one of Glyssa’s best friends.”

Instead of grunting again, he nodded. The fog was clearing from his mind. Probably meant he didn’t have brain damage, always a plus.

Glyssa appeared completely still, her expressive face immobile. On the far side of the bed a pump stood, with large tentacles, pressing her chest evenly. Her lips were barely open. He couldn’t tell whether she breathed on her own or not.

“Is she all right? What’s wrong with her?” He leaned forward, but his legs weren’t working right. Artemisia easily kept him from leaving the examination table.

“Mostly exhaustion, the same as with you and your Fams.”

“The Fams, are they all right?”

“I haven’t heard from D’Ash.”

“Can you scry and ask her?”

Artemisia hesitated, and he got the impression that she didn’t want to hear any bad news, either.

“Glyssa is okay?” he pressed.

“I—we— . . . She should live.”

His heart pounded. May as well ask. “Will she have brain damage?”

Artemisia pursed her lips. “The preeminent mind-Healer scanned both of you and is optimistic that we Healed enough of the damage that the brain itself will continue to work with the spells that we placed.”

Ouch. Didn’t sound good.

Artemisia met his eyes. “It doesn’t seem as if the ritual we did for you helped much.”

“I didn’t realize you were there.”

She nodded. “I was, many were.”

Blowing out a breath, he said, “I didn’t feel you, but Glyssa was mostly in charge of the teleportation. She should be able to tell you more about that.”

“I understand. Just to let you know, there will be more than one nobleman or noblelady to question you about the whole matter of this extreme teleportation.”

Jace managed to lift shaky hands to his head, run them through his hair. His scalp itched as if it was covered in dried sweat.

“When will Glyssa wake up?” he asked. She would wake up. He wouldn’t let doubt seep into his cracked mind, creep into his fearful heart.

“We’re not sure,” Artemisia said.

The door opened and the tough guy walked in, this time Jace could put a name to him. “Garrett Primross.”

“I scried the Ashes, like you asked,” he said, confirming that Jace had been under observation somehow. Was Primary HealingHall an intelligent structure? Not quite, he thought, so it wasn’t the building spying on him. One of the walls must be fake, a window covered by an illusion to the occupants.

Voice tight, he asked, “How are our Fams?”

“Much like you two. They both live. The fox is better off than the hawkcel.”

“Zem.” Jace’s heart squeezed. He looked at an immobile Glyssa, raised his voice. “Glyssa, come on, wake up for me, darling.”

He stared at Garrett, lifted an arm slowly. “Help get me over there.”

The man grimaced and strode over, set his arm around Jace’s upper body and Jace’s arm around his shoulders.

Praying his feet would work, Jace accepted help down to the floor. He could barely feel the pressure against his soles. His knees were weak.

Garrett said nothing as they shuffled extremely slowly toward Glyssa. Neither did the Healer.

There came an exclamation from someone who opened the door while Jace was on the long trip of five paces, but until the Licorice Family moved into his vision, he had no idea who’d entered.

Fasic T’Licorice came to Jace’s other side and offered support, and the inching along went on. Jace was surprised by the two men. Neither pushed him, neither seemed impatient. Not like he would have been. He’d have also wanted to leave the room as soon as possible.

Finally the trio of them reached Glyssa’s bedside. Artemisia waved Garrett away, and gave Jace another oxygen bulb. He breathed a while and prayed that his energy and Flair and regular strength would recover, refused to entertain the thought that he’d be dragging himself around the rest of his life. His shortened life, he was sure, if he didn’t recuperate.

Artemisia helped him prop himself against the bed so he could stand. Glyssa’s father went to the top of the