The wizard’s eyes narrowed. Rising, he approached Erik, ran his fingertips over the left side of Erik’s face and neck. “Is this the full extent of the affliction?”
“No. It covers my left side and most of my right.”
The wizard grunted softly, a wave of his hand indicating Erik should disrobe.
With a sigh, Erik removed his garments, his heart pounding as he stood naked to the wizard’s gaze.
“Did this come upon you all at once, or little by little?”
“Little by little,” Erik replied. He stared at the back of Kristine’s head, praying she would not turn around. She had seen him as he was in the dungeon, he mused, he should have been used to it, but he could not bear for her to look at him, to see what he had become.
The mage grunted again. Rising, he walked slowly around Erik, one hand reaching out to touch the thick, dark pelt that covered his back and shoulders. “I’ve not seen a spell quite like this one before,” he remarked. “’Tis most . . . interesting. Did she say there was a way to reverse the spell?”
Erik shook his head. “She said the spell could not be broken until her daughter forgave me.”
“And where is her daughter?”
“Dead these last five years.”
The wizard let out a sigh, then returned to his chair and sat down. “You may dress.”
Erik quickly donned his clothing and mask. Only then did he sit down in the chair beside Kristine. “Can you help me?”
“I will make you no promises. Should I be able to break this spell, what price are you willing to pay?”
“Whatever you ask,” Kristine said quickly.
The mage looked at her, a speculative gleam in his mild blue eyes. “Indeed?” His gaze moved over her, resting a moment on her swollen belly. “Anything I ask?”
“Yes,” she said. “Anything.”
“What have you to offer?”
“I have lands and wealth,” Erik said. “All are yours if you can remove this curse.”
“I have lands and wealth of my own,” the wizard replied.
“What is it you want, then?” Erik asked, though he feared he knew the answer.
“Your child.”
Kristine gasped. “Our child?” She stared at the wizard, mouth agape. “You are jesting.”
The mage shook his head. “Is it a price you are willing to pay?”
“No.” Erik stood up, reaching for Kristine’s hand.
“Erik, wait.” Kristine looked at the wizard. “Why would you want our child?”
“I am a wizard of great repute, yet I am unable to father a child of my own. Are you willing to sacrifice your child to save your husband from the ultimate fate that awaits him?”
“It is not her decision to make,” Erik said. “The child is mine. The woman is mine. I will not see them separated.”
“Wait.” Kristine glanced from Erik to the wizard and back again. “Erik,” she said quietly. “If he can end this awful curse, we must let him do it. We can have other children. As many as you wish.” Had her own mother experienced this same heart-wrenching grief when she’d chosen her lover over her daughter?
“No! How can you even consider such a thing?”
She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “It would break my heart to give up our child. The child of our love. But I love you with all that I am, Erik. I would do anything to help you, anything to end your pain. Anything to allow us to have a life together. After all we have been through, I cannot bear to lose you now.”
“No, Kristine.”
“Calm yourselves,” the mage said. “I wondered only how deep your love for the woman ran, and hers for you. Sometimes love is the best magic of all.” He stood up, the hem of his black robe flowing like water around his ankles. “Make my home yours. I must study on this. I must confess, I find this spell most intriguing. I myself have transformed people, but never anything like this, and never a spell that could only be broken by one who is dead.” He stroked his beard, his expression thoughtful. “If I cannot help, you may need to seek out a necromancer.”
“There may not be time for that,” Kristine said anxiously. “Please help us.”
“I shall do my best, my dear,” the wizard replied kindly and then, amidst a swirl of twinkling red sparks, he vanished from their sight.
It was an awesome display, but Erik had eyes only for Kristine. “Would you truly have given him our child?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“You care for my babe so little, then?”
“No, Erik, ’tis only that I care for you so very much.”
“Kristine . . .” Heart aching, he drew her into his arms and held her close.
He felt the pain moving through his right shoulder, slowly, insidiously, spreading down his arm. And knew that his time was almost gone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was midmorning the following day when the wizard again summoned them to the tower room. The chairs, table, and fireplace of the night before were gone. The wizard sat on a high stool in the middle of the floor, hunched over a high table upon which were spread dozens of scrolls and manuscripts. A white raven with amber eyes perched on a corner of the table.
The wizard looked up as Erik and Kristine entered the room.
“Have you found anything?” Kristine asked anxiously.
The wizard stroked his beard. “I have found a few incantations that look promising but, in all honesty, I must warn you that I doubt any of them will be effective.” He glanced at Erik. “Know you the name of the witch who cast this spell upon you?”
“Charmion du Lac.”
“Ah.”
“You know her, then?” Erik asked.
“I have seen the results of her magic in times past. Much of what I know, I learned at her hand.”
“You are friends, then?”
A myriad of emotions flickered in the wizard’s eyes. “Not exactly.”
“What, exactly?” Erik asked.
“We once explored the ancient arts together. During that time, we became friends, but we found it difficult to maintain that relationship, so we became . . . ah . . . more than friends. I’m afraid that liaison did not work out well, either.”
Kristine clutched Erik’s hand, unsettled by the wizard’s disclosure. “And now?”
“We are, at best, congenial enemies.”
For a moment, Erik considered telling the mage that Charmion was dead, but quickly decided against it, thinking that, if the mage still had feelings for the witch, he might send them away. “Can you help me or not?”