Black Moon Draw(92)

“I was supposed to do that,” I say, voice breaking. I clear my throat. “Before the medallion was destroyed.”

“Sire!” Westley calls softly from the top of the stairs. “Come quickly!”

“What? Is he hurt?” I demand.

“Nay, witch. The Shadow Knight’s sword has broken.”

I wrench away from the Red Knight and start running. Take me to him! I scream at the magic of the castle. Torches flicker and I trail them down a set of stairs and to a hallway wide enough for two buses to drive through. Two wide wooden doors lead into the banquet hall and I stop before them, pounding on one.

“Open!” I give a frustrated yell.

There’s a creak and then one of them obeys, deliberately swinging open towards me. I don’t wait for it and squeeze through the opening, running into the hall.

I see neither of them and pause to listen for the sounds of swords. It, too, is gone.

“Don’t mess with me!” I cry at the castle, eyes blurring with tears. My heart is near the point of combustion.

A groan.

Uncertain what I heard, I hold my breath, willing my thoughts quiet, too.

It’s coming from the other side of the hall.

Skirting the tables, I slow long enough at each break between rows to look between them.

And then I see them. Both men are on the ground, blood pooling around their bodies.

“Atreyu!” I gasp and dash towards him. Dropping to my knees, I don’t notice the blood that splashes up and instead, shakily reach to take his pulse.

It’s there – but weak, shallow and slow.

“You can’t leave me,” I whisper, gaze roving over his sculpted lips to the hard planes of his face and his dark hair. His scent is thick in the air. Leaning over him, I can smell our lovemaking on his skin. A pang of pure agony hits me hard in the gut. “Oh, god. Please, no!” I can’t lose him so soon after finding him!

A tiny voice tells me to stop the bleeding. I walk forward on my knees. He’s unconscious and covered in blood, his muscular physique still.

Blood pumps from a huge gash in his side, from his thigh, from both shoulders, the side of his neck . . .

There’s no stopping or replacing that much blood without a legit hospital, which this world doesn’t have. I sit back, stricken by helplessness and horror, unable to believe the only man I’ve ever wanted is dying before me.

I’m becoming numb, my surroundings taking on a surreal feel. My ears buzz and I try to distance my feelings from here, try to convince myself it’s not real.

But beyond a doubt, this world is real. Not only that, but it’s mine – just like the man dying before my eyes.

“Go to your father, boy,” the Red Knight orders Westley. He pushes me over with little ceremony.

“Oh, father,” Westley says, the raw note in his tone telling me his father is worse off.

“Alive or dead?” the Red Knight demands.

“M’lord,” my squire interjects tentatively from a dozen feet away.

“Quiet, squire! Brown Sun, is he alive or dead?”

“Dead,” is the whispered response.

My heart is too heavy to ache for the boy who just lost his father. I can only think of everything I’ve spent a lifetime missing, of a man who finds me and all my faults beautiful and whose heart is larger than his kingdom.

Atreyu will never see the blue sky or sit on the emerald hills overlooking the ocean. He’ll never know true peace or see a thousand years of suffering end. I would give anything for him to know that joy, even if it meant I returned to my own world, never to experience his touch, kiss, skin, scent. My whole life has been treading water until Black Moon Draw and its Shadow Knight.

The fleeting thoughts pierce me through the heart and I double over, mental agony turning physical.

Get a hold of yourself! I shout internally. If I give up now, I’ll definitely never save him. I need to keep trying, to bind his wounds and pray. Last night, he, too, had given up, only to find a reason to fight today. I can do no less, no matter what the personal cost or how much it hurts.

The Red Knight sits back on his heels. “I cannot help him, witch,” he says softly. “Have you any magic at all?”

I shake my head, trembling too hard to speak.

“Boy, come!”

Westley stands slowly, eyes lingering on his father, his sorrow clear. He joins us and squats outside the reach of the puddle of blood.

“He lives. Mayhap we can still counter the curse.” The Red Knight removes a dagger from his belt and places it on the torso of the Shadow Knight. “By the blood of my line and the rivers of my kingdom, I pledge my loyalty and fealty to the Shadow Knight of Black Moon Draw.” With a bow of his head, he leans back, leaving the knife in place.

Westley’s hands quake. He mirrors the movements of the Red Knight, his words barely audible.

“M’lord,” the squire tries again.

The Shadow Knight breathing stops. “Oh, god!” I push past the Red Knight.

He grabs my arms. “You cannot help him, witch. Now we wait and see if we acted in enough time.”

I rest my hands on Atreyu’s chest, praying for a miracle. If ever there was a time to be a magical being or for LF to intervene, it’s now.

“Naia!” the squire all but shouts.

“Boy!” the Red Knight jerks. “You do not use the name of –”