“Anna,” he rasped, flowing swiftly to her side and bending next to her. With exquisite care he gathered her off the floor and held her tightly cradled against his chest. His heart twisted with pain. She was alive, but she was gravely wounded.
Clearly sensing his presence, Anna struggled to lift her lashes and regarded him in dazed confusion.
“Cezar? Is that really you?” she whispered.
He bent his head to press his lips to her forehead. “Si. It’s really me,” he assured her softly, a sharp fear piercing his heart as he felt her violent tremble. Damn, she must be convulsing. Pulling back, he regarded her with a concern that rapidly shifted to disbelief. Dios. Was she laughing? “What’s so funny?” he demanded.
Her smile lingered despite the tears that were streaming down her filthy face. “I saw the portal and I thought…”
“What? What did you think?”
“‘Beam me up, Scotty.’”
Chapter 23
Anna was vaguely aware of Cezar holding her tight as he spoke in a low, rough voice to someone else in the room. His touch seeped into her aching body, easing the agonizing pain that still wracked her. Even more, it battled back the lingering memory of Morgana’s screams that continued to echo in her ears.
But the weakness that she had ignored for too long held her in its grip and, snuggling against Cezar’s welcome strength, she allowed herself to sink into her weariness, trusting that Cezar would keep her safe.
It was done. Over.
Surely she had earned a few minutes of rest?
She stirred briefly as she felt the unpleasant prickles of a portal surround her. It was hard to ignore the sensation of lightning dancing over her skin. But still held tightly in Cezar’s arms, she didn’t attempt to fight the clinging darkness.
There was something waiting for her there.
She had sensed the presence from the moment the explosion had consumed Morgana and tossed her across the room. It had whispered in the back of her mind, although it seemed to realize she couldn’t respond so long as she was alone and defenseless in Avalon.
Now that Cezar was carrying her to safety, however, the voice became more insistent, pulling her deeper and deeper into the dark void.
Trusting completely in her mate’s ability to fight off any danger, Anna allowed herself to be swept through the strange swirl of black mist, not at all surprised when she found herself standing in the ruined castle on the cliff. Her family seemed to have missed that whole concept of picking up a telephone and politely inviting someone to visit. They seemed to prefer the snatching-a-person-from-wherever-they-might-be-and-forcing-them-to-appear route.
As before, she could hear the crash of waves from below and smell the faint hint of sage that filled the motionless air. Reaching out, Anna allowed her hand to touch the nearest wall, her fingertips registering the rough dampness of the ancient stone.
It was so astonishingly real.
With a shake of her head, Anna slowly turned, her heart clenching with bittersweet happiness at the sight of the large wolf stepping through the arched doorway. Okay, maybe she was pathetic to find pleasure in visiting with her long dead grandfather. But by God, she’d spent two hundred years desperately alone. She was going to enjoy her time with Arthur, ghost or not.
Well, she was going to enjoy her time with Arthur just as soon as she got a few answers, she decided, as the strange mist swirled about the wolf and it shifted to the form of a large man in heavy armor.
It was impossible to determine his features, but in her mind she sensed the strong, craggy face and green eyes that held a mixture of fondness and ancient regret.
“Anna,” he intoned with a formal dip of his head that held an unspoken respect.
Lifting her chin, Anna extended her hand that held the glowing emerald.
“Tell me what I’ve done,” she demanded without preamble.
She sensed his bewilderment. “Done?”
“Is Morgana dead?”
The mist stirred, the air suddenly cold enough to make Anna shiver.
“No, she is very much alive.”
Anna grimaced. Deep in her heart that was precisely what she had feared.
“My God.” She barely resisted the urge to toss the emerald on the dirt floor. “Then she’s trapped in there?”
“Her spirit is now contained within the gem.”
Anna didn’t miss the dark satisfaction in his voice. Obviously Arthur wasn’t quite as queasy as she was at the thought of trapping a living being in a chunk of stone.
Of course, he’d had a lot of centuries to wait for this day. That might warp anyone’s sense of compassion.
“Is she in pain?” Anna demanded.
There was an impression of an indifferent shrug. “Only the pain of her frustration. In spirit form she has no mortal discomforts.”
“Can she escape?”
“Only if you decide to release her.”
Jeez. Like she didn’t feel bad enough. Now she had to live with the knowledge that every day that passed she was responsible for holding the woman captive.
“Great,” she muttered.
“You would prefer that Morgana was dead?”
“I don’t know.” Anna gave a restless shrug. “It just seems such an awful fate.”
“It is a fate far more kind than that Morgana le Fay offered to her many victims,” Arthur growled. “She was fortunate that it was you who was destined to be her final judge.”
Anna shuddered as she remembered Morgana’s shrieks as she was pulled into the power of the emerald. The woman probably didn’t consider herself rolling in good fortune.
At the moment, however, there didn’t seem much purpose in debating the matter, and instead Anna turned her thoughts to the question that had nagged at her since her confrontation with Morgana.
“Why me?” she demanded.
“I may be old by most standards, Anna, but not even I can explain the fickleness of fate.”
She made an impatient sound. “No, I mean, why didn’t you use the emerald all those years ago? You could have saved…”
Her words broke off at the flare of pain that raced through her at the thought of her family being senselessly slaughtered. How different it would have been if Morgana had been locked away and unable to destroy those who might have loved her.
The mist darkened and the sensation of ancient grief rolled over her.
“I mourn their loss as much as you, perhaps even more,” Arthur said, his voice low and raw with pain. “I felt each death as it occurred, like a dagger through my heart. It is a burden I must carry.”