Page 56 of A Kiss of Flame
“Och,” Cat grumbled as she peered over his shoulder. “She collects fingers?” His sister smirked. “I think I might actually like her a bit now.”
Barith ignored Cat, shoving the little purse into her bloody hands, which she held out like it was a smelly piece of rotting fish. He didn’t know why Levian had collected the fingers, but she’d done it for some reason. Barith leaned back over Levian, her face pale, her breathing ragged. She had a fever now, her body trembling, her skin damp with sweat. He hesitated momentarily, looking at her face, his heart torn and aching. Barith grabbed a blanket and pulled it over her shivering shoulders. He knew he had to move—Levian wasn’t bleeding out, but she wasn’t getting better either.
He thought about taking her to Rath, Sirus’s ghul mentor. The creature was from a different realm, the Shadow Dark, and knew a lot about Dökk magicks, having been ripped away from his realm because of them. But Rath wasn’t a healer, and Levian needed someone capable of more than knowledge.
“Barith,” Flòra said, her voice soft but firm as he wavered in his choice. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with desperation. “Ismay can help. Bring her to the island. Ye can deal wi' Mum an' be close to Levian too.”
“We'll have tae sneak her in,” Jude pointed out, giving up her protests. “Mum'll nae be happy if she finds out we brought Barith's lover tae the island.”
Cat grunted her agreement.
“We can make sure it’s kept quiet,” Flòra assured him.
Barith closed his eyes, his heart pounding. He could almost hear Levian’s voice in his head, telling him to stop being an idiot and do what needed to be done. The mage would be running about, doing everything she could to save him if their roles were reversed. He opened his eyes, determination hardening his gaze. Barith wanted to keep the mage close if he could, and he didn’t doubt Flòra. The Queen would send guards to drag him back by his tail if she had to. Plus, no one would dare come after them on the island.
“Call Ismay,” he growled, his voice filled with resolve. “Let her know we’re comin’ and to be ready.”
Chapter Seventeen
Levian grumbled, not in the mood to rouse herself enough to put out the annoying glow of the fire in her room. With a grunt of protest, she reached for a pillow to pull over her face and snarled as a sharp jolt of agony spread through her body the moment she tried.
“Careful,” a soothing voice said from her other side. Levian startled, which made her hiss with pain all over. “I’ve a tonic that'll help wi' the pain if ye need it.”
Levian blinked through the fog clouding her thoughts, her vision narrowing until she finally saw the woman sitting beside her. She was pretty, with kind eyes and a sweet, freckled face. Her slim dragon wings were tucked tightly behind her back, her tail swishing gently. Given her Scottish brogue and distinctive hair, Levian didn’t doubt for a moment that this was one of Barith’s relatives.
"I’m Ismay," she said with a soft smile, pouring a bit of tonic onto a spoon.
Levian’s head throbbed as she attempted to nod. "Barith’s sister?"
Ismay nodded. "Aye. Though you probably already guessed that I’d wager." She held the spoon up for Levian. "Take this. It’ll help with the pain now that yer awake."
Levian didn’t argue and took the potion, grimacing as she swallowed. It was a thick syrup that tasted of sugared peaches, but there was a bitter aftertaste. "What is it?" she asked, curious. Levian hadn’t known one of Barith’s sisters was a healer.
"Oh, just a wee dram I made. Took me ages to make it not taste like dirt, though. How is it?"
The mage was impressed. She was already feeling more relaxed, the pain subsiding to a dull, manageable ache. "It’s wonderful," Levian admitted. "And it tastes lovely." Like cherry candies.
Ismay smiled wide with appreciation. "I’ve never treated a mage before," she admitted. "I’m only used to tendin’ to dragons. It’s why I had to get the taste better. The others wouldnae take it unless it tasted like candy," she added with a roll of her eyes.
Levian chuckled, but the motion made her chest throb. She could only imagine Barith turning his nose up at his sister’s healing potions. Ismay was more patient than she would have been. Levian would have told Barith to hold his nose and chase her tonics with whiskey.
"Where am I?" Levian asked, glancing around the room. It was a nicely sized, simply furnished room with a small fire.
"Eilean Teine," Ismay told her as she slid over to a dresser.
"What?" Levian questioned with unveiled shock. Eilean Teine was the home of Barith’s horde. It was also the last place she would’ve expected him to bring her. As her head began to clear from the pain, thanks to Ismay’s tonic, Levian’s mind began to race. It was still fuzzy, but she remembered Vane’s blade pressed against her throat, Barith bursting in to save her like a fiery, angry god. She touched her fingers lightly to thebandage. Tsuki had thrown the Dökk blade. Levian shivered at the memory. It had felt violating not to be able to wield magick, but the Dökk blade had felt like the cold touch of death.
"Ye got intae a scrape last night," Ismay explained, laying out a cotton nightgown on the bed, "an' my brother brought ye to me to fix you up. Dinnae ken if I did the best job, but ye’ve been restin' better the last half day, so we werenae so worried anymore."
Levian’s emotions tumbled over each other. Why had Barith brought her here? She wasn’t used to needing anyone’s help—she’d always been the one others turned to for healing, for magick. Yet, here she was, relying on Barith’s family to save her. Her chest tightened, a mix of gratitude and frustration mingling inside her. She forced herself to swallow it down. Ismay’s handiwork was impressive; the fact that Levian was lucid so soon after such an injury proved as much.
"They used one of those door stones to get to Orkney and flew the rest of the way," Ismay continued, pulling out a cute woolen shawl.
Levian shuddered again, imagining Barith flying her over the frigid sea. He knew how much she hated to fly. He could have only managed it with her unconscious.
"Thank you," she told Ismay, her voice softer. "For saving me. It’s no easy task, healing damage done by Dökk blades. You’re very talented."
Ismay helped her slide on the gown. "Och, I just did as any sister or healer would have done," she humbly replied. "Barith’s been in a right state. He’ll be happy to know yer awake."