Sara stood up slowly. She could see compassion, even sorrow, on Raven’s face. Tears streaked Raven’s cheeks and she held out both hands. “Sara, they have brought him to the best place possible, a place of power. Shea says…” She choked back a sob and pressed a fist to her mouth even as she caught Sara’s hand in hers. “You must come with us quickly to the cave of healing.”
Mikhail stepped back, avoided her eyes, his features a mask of granite, but Sara knew what he was thinking. She touched his arm briefly to gain his attention. “I was sharing his mind when he made the decision. It was a conscious decision, one he didn’t hesitate to make. Don’t lessen his sacrifice by feeling guilty. Falcon believes you’re a great man, that the loss of your life would be intolerable to him, to your people. He knew exactly what he was doing and what the cost might be. I am proud of him, proud of who he is. He is an honorable man and always has been. I completely supported his decision.”
Mikhail nodded. “You are a fitting lifemate for an ancient as honorable as Falcon. Thank you for your kindness in such a bleak hour, Sara. It is a privilege to count you among our people. We must go to him rapidly. You have not had time to become used to our ways, so I ask that you allow me to take your blood. Falcon’s blood runs in my veins. I must aid you in shape-shifting to get to this place of healing.”
She met his black gaze steadily. “You honor me, sir.”
Raven’s fingers tightened around Sara’s as if holding her close, but Sara could barely feel the contact. Her mind was firmly entrenched in Falcon’s, holding him to her, refusing to allow him to slip away despite the gravity of his injuries. She felt the prick of Mikhail’s teeth on her wrist, felt the reassuring squeeze of Raven’s hand. Nothing mattered to Sara but that flickering light so dim and far away.
Mikhail placed the image of an owl in her mind, and she actually felt the wrenching of her bones, the contorting of her body, and the sudden rush of air as she took flight. But there was only Falcon, and she didn’t dare let go of that fading light to look at the world falling away from her as she winged her way to the cave of healing.
Deep beneath the earth, the air was heavy and thick with the aroma of hundreds of scented candles. Sara went to Falcon, shocked at the terrible wounds in his body, at his white, nearly translucent skin. Shea’s body was an empty shell. Sara was vividly aware of her in Falcon’s body, valiantly repairing the extensive damage. The sound of chanting—ancient, beautiful words in a language she recognized yet didn’t know—filled the chamber. The ancient language of the Carpathians. Those not present were there nonetheless, joined mind to mind, sending their powers of healing, their energy, to their fallen warrior.
Sara watched the Prince giving his blood, far more than he could afford, yet he waved the others off and gave until he was weak and pale, until his own brother forced him to replenish what he had given. She watched each of the Carpathians, strangers to her, giving generously to her lifemate, reverently, paying a kind of homage to him. Sara took Falcon’s hand in hers and watched as Shea returned to her own body.
Shea, swaying with weariness, signaled to the others to pack Falcon’s terrible wounds with saliva and the deep rich earth. She fed briefly from her lifemate and returned to the monumental task of closing and repairing the wounds.
It took hours. Outside the cave the sun was climbing, but not one of the people faltered in their task. Sara held Falcon to her through sheer will, and when Shea emerged, they stared at one another across his body, both weary, both with tears shimmering in their eyes.
“We must put him to ground and hope that the earth works its magic. I have done all I can do,” Shea said softly. “It’s up to you now, Sara.”