The First looked at the walls, and Devon got the impression she was calculating whether they’d hold up without a roof. “You’ve always wanted to expand. Alvine, proceed.”
Charity’s dad stared at the First for a long beat, and though his thoughts didn’t bleed out onto his face, it was entirely too clear he was silently cursing. Instead of raising an objection, however, he bent to Charity, his gaze flicking up as he did so.
Devon moved in immediately, lifting Charity’s head so her dad could deliver the sweet-smelling elixir to her mouth. It dribbled past her lips, and she coughed, spraying the liquid over them. The Second dribbled more, and this time half of it was swallowed and half coughed out around her chin.
“That should suffice,” Alvine said.
Devon laid Charity back down, his eyes rooted to her face, his heart in his throat. Now was the point they’d been waiting for these long months. He’d gotten her to the finish line, and he had to trust her people could get her across.
“It is evident you care a great deal.”
Devon almost didn’t realize the words had been spoken to him. He looked up into the brown eyes of Charity’s father.
“I recognize the look,” the Second said. An old pain surfaced in his eyes. “Utter bliss. A devastating obsession such that you couldn’t imagine living without it.” A sad smile ghosted his lips. “She holds your whole heart in her hands, and you wouldn’t want it back for all the world.”
“Is it me, or did things just get really freaking personal?” Andy’s voice drifted in. Clearly those outside could hear what was happening inside. A few of the spectators frowned at the interruption.
“I love her,” Devon admitted, hoping his face didn’t look as red as it felt. “I’d do anything for her.”
“I hope you will remember that when the time comes,” the First said, analyzing him.
“Like…really freaking personal,” Andy said.
Charity heaved on the table before coughing and curling up. Her face screwed up in pain, and Devon prepared himself for the onslaught. Instead, a thick feeling of euphoria swirled around them like a cyclone, the fae stirring the air with their magic somehow, grabbing his magic and that of the shifters waiting outside, sweeping it all up and mixing it together.
“Hmm, that is nice,” someone murmured. “Makes me eager for my bow.”
“The thrill of battle,” another whispered.
“Is that hers?” someone asked.
“No. The Alpha Shifter and his people.”
And then the shower of agony did come, blasting out from Charity and magically flaying all of them. Devon gritted his teeth and held firm, receiving an equal dose of pain through the magical link—which he used to work his magic into hers. Everyone else staggered back with their arms up.
“Now is not the time for cowardice,” Alvine shouted, the first to recover. She walked forward as though through a gale, clutching the edge of the bed. “Help her!”
Charity’s magic gushed into the room as though from a burst dam, more than Devon had ever felt at one time. If this had happened a day ago, even an hour ago, he wouldn’t have been able to help her.
The cyclone of magic spun faster, working harder to sweep Charity’s magic into everyone else’s, balancing it with sheer force. A tiny spark flashed light near the ceiling.
“Watch your head—”
The blast cut off Devon’s words. The ceiling exploded upward, blown off by the force of Charity’s magic. White light, purer than the sun, beamed down on them from several points, buzzing. Small surges of lightning hit the edges of the walls where they’d recently been attached to the roof.
Charity cried out, arching on the bed. Her hands came together above her chest, palms up, light glittering across them.
“Watch out!” Devon pushed himself back. Wide-eyed, everyone else followed his lead.
A fizzing oblong of electrical charge condensed into a sphere of light before rocketing skyward. Thirty feet or so up, it exploded, sending balls of fire shooting over the shed.
With that, the pressure died away. The surge calmed and the awesome display of magic dimmed. In its wake, a pleasing euphoria tickled Devon’s insides and flirted with his magic.
Charity’s eyes fluttered open. Her head fell to the side toward him, as though she’d known he was there all along. Her smile was serene. “Wait for me. I need to rest now.”Chapter Twenty-FiveSteve walked beside Devon, ever the brooding alpha. Against all odds, the younger man had accomplished his duty. Although the loss of his beta had shaken him, badly, he hadn’t fallen apart. That was commendable. Steve planned to find something alcoholic in this incredibly beautiful faery wood and get the young alpha so drunk he couldn’t stand up. They had the time.
When Charity was carried past him on her bed of white silk, she had a small smile on her face. A relieved smile. The big dogs apparently thought that was a good sign. The best sign, actually. All she had to do now was sleep it off, like a magical hangover. She was being brought to wherever long-lost royalty went, while they’d been invited to follow a dishy fae lady, Zana, to their temporary lodgings.