Chapter Sixteen

She’s close to you now! Closer than ever!

Bridin woke to those words ringing through her psyche. She lay still in the familiar bed; the bed she’d slept in for most of her life. But in her soul, she knew this would be the last time she’d wake here. Her battle of wills with the Dark Prince would end today. But the war would be far from over. Just beginning, in fact.

Things would change then. No more would he look in on her when he believed her to be sleeping. No more would she be the helpless prisoner, locked in his castle tower and totally dependent on him for her every need. No more.

Once she returned to Rush, she’d be restored to power. And she’d be obliged to destroy him.

It occurred to her then that she didn’t even know his given name. She never had. When his family had been banished to the dark side centuries ago, the name had been outlawed. No one could utter it in Rush ever again. His family were the dark ones, and the name he used in this realm, Darque, was only an extension of that.

Not that it mattered. Not now. Her time had come. All these years she’d awaited this day, and now it was here. She knew...it was time.

The Dark Prince must sense something was about to happen. She could feel his nervousness, hear him pacing in the room beside hers. He would not be an easy man to trick. His keen mind would spot the slightest flaw in her performance. But she suspected she held the weapon that would make her the victor in this particular battle.

He couldn’t hurt her. And not just because of the pendant she wore. There was more. All these years he’d held her prisoner, watched her grow and change, as she’d watched him remain the same. Dark, charismatic, and utterly evil. But he’d never been cruel to her, despite that she was his sworn enemy. And she’d been sure to look deeply into his eyes whenever he approached her. She knew she possessed that fairy allure, so dangerous to mortal and fay males alike. And she’d focused that allure on the Dark Prince, praying he’d be susceptible as well. That she could soften his barren, black heart toward her...just a little bit. Just enough.

She’d soon find out whether her attempts had been successful.

She relaxed her body, muscle by muscle, and focused on a single spot on the white ceiling above her. She concentrated, waiting for the knowledge to come to her. She’d know what to do. She’d know exactly what to do.

Staring at the ceiling, but not seeing it, she pictured her sister’s beautiful face, put Brigit foremost in her mind, just the way she had imagined her. The way she’d painted her. And she concentrated. When she’d focused every part of herself, mind and spirit on her sister, she consciously relaxed, letting her mind open like the petals of a flower in the sun. And she knew what she had to do.

She had to get sick. Very sick. Sick enough so they’d take her from this place to a hospital. She wasn’t sure why she was supposed to do that, or even if she could do it, but she would certainly try.

Her focus shifted. She concentrated now on the physical rather than the spiritual. And as she willed it, so it happened. Her state altered, and her breathing slowed. Her heart rate followed suit, and her body temperature dropped.

Yes. That’s it. But more. Just a bit more.

Focus. She tapped the strength of her will, used all the power she had. And consciousness began to recede. Not enough oxygen now, she supposed, to maintain it. She reached for the lace doily on her bedside stand, caught it, and tugged until the lamp that rested atop it crashed to the floor. That done, she rolled onto her side, close to the bed’s edge. Teetering now. This experiment could kill her. She must be careful.

She leaned a little farther, heard the door open just as all thoughts faded away. She felt her body falling from the bed, felt the crushing impact on her right side when she hit the floor.

Darque reached Bridin’s bedroom door at the same time as Kate, the nurse. He flung the door open, surged inside...and paused there as the blood drained from his face. Bridin lay on the floor, amid the litter of broken glass. Her face as lily white as that of a corpse. Her eyes closed.

“Gods, why now?” he snarled as he moved forward, instinctively bending over to pick her up, then hesitating. The pendant. He couldn’t lay his hands on her as long as she wore that pendant.

And then Kate was crouching beside him, pressing her palms to Bridin’s face the way Darque had intended to do.

“Lord, she’s cold as ice!” The nurse caught Bridin’s wrist in her hands, and shook her head. Her eyes widened as she looked up at Darque.

He scowled down at the beautiful woman on the floor. “Damn you, Bridin, your timing couldn’t be worse.” He stood straight and paced away from her, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. At any moment now, Zaslow would be taking possession of that damned painting. And Darque had to be there when that happened. He had to be sure it was destroyed, at once, before Bridin’s sister ever set eyes on it. He had to witness it burning with his own eyes. He couldn’t trust this to Zaslow. It was too important. And he couldn’t wait.

Nor could he leave Bridin here in this condition. She looked as if she were at death’s door. Gods, he couldn’t just let her die.

He turned abruptly, saw Kate maneuvering Bridin’s limp form back into the bed, stroking her hair, muttering softly. He could care less if she died, he reminded himself. It wouldn’t matter to him in the least, except that he needed her. He needed her to secure his hold on the throne of Rush.

“What’s wrong with her?” he demanded.

Kate turned on him, wide-eyed.

“You’re a nurse, dammit. What’s causing this?”

“I don’t know.”

Sighing in disgust, Darque paced toward the bed, stood beside it, looking down at Bridin’s ivory face, the dark circles even now beginning to form around her eyes. The way her hands trembled against the white sheets.

Kate’s head lay upon Bridin’s breast for a moment. When she straightened, she faced him. “I don’t have a stethoscope here, but I think her heartbeat is irregular. And it looks as if her blood pressure is falling dangerously. We need to get her to a hospital, Mr. Darque.”

He narrowed his eyes and moved closer. Without taking his gaze from Bridin, he said, “Go downstairs and call an ambulance. You’re to ride in it with her. You’re to stay with her at all times, Kate. Do you understand?”

Kate nodded and started toward the door.

“I’ll join you at the hospital soon. I have something I have to do first, but I’ll come there directly. Don’t let her out of your sight for an instant, Kate, until I get there.”

“I won’t,” she said. “I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry, Mr. Darque.” And then she left the room.

Darque bent over the bed, lifted his hand as if to touch her face, but caught himself, and drew it away again. “I’m warning you, Bridin of Rush, if this is some kind of a trick...”

His words trailed off as her eyes fluttered, and then opened, mere slits, unfocused and watery.

But they caught his and held them, and her pale, trembling hand rose slowly, reaching for his face.

He couldn’t touch her. But she could touch him with no ill effects if she wanted to do so. It surprised him when her chilled palm settled on his cheek, and her eyes, dulled though they were, still managed to pierce his.

“Before I...go...” she whispered. “I wish to know...your name.”

His name? The Dark Prince blinked in shock. “You’re not going to die, Bridin,” he assured her. “You’ll live...long enough to serve my purposes, at least. But since you asked, my name is the same as my father’s before me, and his before him, and many before them. I am Tristan of Shara.” He held her gaze and added, “Ruler of Rush.”

Her chilled hand fell away from his face, and he saw in her eyes that his barb had struck its target. And then they fell closed, and she said no more.

Tristan of Shara felt his stomach lurch, and wondered at it. But he lifted his hand, and spoke the words that would remove the invisible barrier which kept the fairy from passing.

And then he sat down in the chair beside the bed, and he stared at her a while longer.