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  “Nadiah?” he asked, looking anxiously down at her. “Sweetheart, are you all right?”

  “Fine.” She smiled up at him, her eyes half closed in fatigue. “Now that you’ve got me I’ll be all right forever.”

  “Oh, sweetheart…” He bent to kiss her cheek…and realized that it was ice cold. Surely that couldn’t be normal, could it? “Nadiah?” he asked, trying to keep the panic out of his voice but this time she didn’t answer. “Nadiah!” Rast shook her gently and then with more force but her eyes—those lovely, otherworldly blue eyes—were closed and her head rolled limply against his arm. “Help!” He looked around wildly. “I need a doctor over here—help me!”

  Suddenly Lydiah was pulling on his arm again. “Off-worlder?”

  “What? Do you know a doctor? Where’s the fucking hospital around here?” Rast demanded, all in one breath.

  “Do you truly love her?” Lydiah was looking at him steadily. “You weren’t just saying that to help her break the bond?”

  “What? Yes, of course I love her!” Rast said wildly. “I’m out of my goddamn mind in love with her, all right?”

  “And you want her with you?” Lydiah persisted. “You want to be tied to her for always and spend your whole life with her and only with her?”

  “Yes, yes, yes! What is this, twenty questions? Just tell me where to find a doctor!”

  “You don’t need a doctor—you can heal her yourself. If you’re willing.”

  “Willing to do what?” Rast begged. “Please, just tell me, she’s barely breathing.”

  “Close your eyes, calm yourself, and feel for the broken bond—the one she tore away from Y’dex,” Lydiah instructed.

  Rast forced himself to do as she said. He’d always had a cool head under pressure. This was no time to panic—not when Nadiah’s life might hang in the balance.

  Closing his eyes, he reached along the slender cord that connected him to Nadiah. He could barely feel it now—it was like a ghost, a whisper of silk that passed right through his mind’s fingers as he searched. But there was something else in there—something big—he could sense it. Big and hurt and throbbing, like a cut artery pulsing away the life’s blood of its victim.

  “Do you feel it?” Lydiah asked anxiously. “I don’t want to rush you, off-worlder, but Nadiah seems to have stopped breathing.”

  “Yes.” Reaching out mentally with everything in him, Rast grabbed the severed cord. It was more like a rough rope or a vine in his hand and unlike his own, slender connection, it was still throbbing with life. Even as he held it, though, the throbbing grew weaker and the cord felt less and less substantial. “I’ve got it,” he told Lydiah, still not opening his eyes. “I’ve got it—now what?”

  “All right, feel for the end,” she instructed. “The broken end.”

  Rast felt for it and found it soon enough. It came to a sharp and jagged point, like a limb torn away from a tree by lightning. Like holding a dagger in my mind, he thought and felt a strange comfort in the thought. “I’ve got it,” he said grimly. “Just barely. It won’t last long. Now what do I do?”

  “Now you must stab it into your heart.”

  “What?” Rast’s eyes flew open and he almost lost his mental grasp on the slippery, jagged bond. “What did you say?”

  “If you want to save her, you have to anchor her to you,” Lydiah explained patiently, as though speaking to a young child. “The only way to do that is to push the bond deep into the core of your soul—your psychic heart. Close your eyes and imagine pushing it into yourself—stabbing the root deep in your heart. It’s the only way.”

  “Of course it is,” Rast muttered. Suddenly, it all made perfect sense.

  “One thing, off-worlder,” Lydiah said. “This will hurt. And if Nadiah is too far gone, she may take you down with her to death’s doorway.”

  “You think I give a damn about that?” Rast growled. “I don’t care where she takes me as long as we’re together.”

  Lydiah smiled at him. “Then you are truly worthy of her. I am glad I broke my vow.”

  Rast didn’t know what she was talking about and he didn’t care. Closing his eyes, he took a firm grip on the jagged, pulsing root. Then, with no hesitation, he pictured himself driving that wickedly sharp point firmly into his own beating heart.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nadiah was in a long, dark tunnel. So long and so dark she was almost afraid. But when she looked up, she saw a light at the end—a light that dispelled all her fears. So beautiful, she thought as she drifted towards it. So perfectly peaceful. So right…

  The light grew closer and now she could see a figure standing there in the center of it, the figure of a person who was somehow familiar, though Nadiah had a feeling she hadn’t seen whoever it was in a long, long time.

  “Nadiah? Nadiah, my child.” The figure became clearer and suddenly Nadiah recognized her Grandmaman—the one who had told her about her gift—about the Sight. She had warned Nadiah before she died that she might inherit the gift and told her what to expect. But that had been years ago. And now…

  “Grandmaman?” Nadiah could hardly contain her joy. “Oh, Grandmaman, I’m so happy to see you!”

  “And I’m happy to see you as well, child. But it’s too soon. You’re early.”

  “Early?” Nadiah frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the Goddess says it’s not your time yet. You must go back, child. The one you left behind loves you dearly—so dearly he is willing to risk his own life for yours. You must go back to him.”

  “Rast?” Nadiah asked. “Are you talking about Rast?”

  “He has a hard road ahead of him child—the wellbeing of First World will rest in his hands.” Her grandmaman shivered. “I wouldn’t wish that heavy a load on anyone but his shoulders are broad enough to bear it—if he has the right female to help him, that is. So you see, you must go back to him and face the Empty Throne. You must.”

  “I must,” Nadiah repeated softly. Faintly, so faintly she could barely hear it, the sound of voices drifted up to her. One of them belonged to her friend, Lydiah and the other, deeper one was Rast—she was sure of it. He seemed to be panicked or upset about something. He was calling her name, asking for help and it sounded like Lydiah was answering him.

  “Go…” Her grandmaman’s voice was softer now and when Nadiah looked up, she saw that the older female was fading back into the brilliant, warm glow at the end of the tunnel. “Go now, my child. Go and do what you must do.”

  “Wait,” Nadiah pleaded. “What is it I must do?”

  “When the time is right, you will know, child.”

  “Will I see you again?” Nadiah asked.

  “Of course you will.” Her grandmaman’s voice was fainter still and the sound of Lydiah and Rast talking was growing louder. “We all come to the Goddess in the end,” her grandmaman said. “But first you must fulfill your destiny. Goodbye, Nadiah. Goodbye…”

  “Goodbye, I love you,” Nadiah called after her. By now the circle of light was no more than a pinprick. Suddenly, she felt a rushing sensation, as though she was falling—no—flying downwards. Diving from a great height down to something or someone who was terribly important to her.

  The darkness cleared and she caught a glimpse of her own lifeless body, cradled in Rast’s muscular arms. And then—

  * * * * *

  Nadiah jerked in his arms like a heart attack patient being shocked by a defibrillator. A ragged gasp tore from her throat and her eyes flew open, staring up at him in wonder.

  “Rast?” she whispered, reaching up for him. “Rast, is that you?”

  “Nadiah!” It was impossible to put the relief he felt into words. His heart throbbed in his chest and he could feel the newly connected bond throbbing with it, beating in time to his pulse and hers. “Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered and crushed her to him.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on, weakly at first but then tighter as strength seemed to pour back into h