A Touch of Death

Chapter 37

Tarran only became weaker over the next two days, spending most of his time in bed. Worst of all, he'd started talking about plans after his death. Aoife always did her best to change the subject, but he'd finally cornered her today and managed to give her a letter.

She hadn't opened it and she wasn't planning to. He could tell her anything he wanted to say once he was better, and she refused to believe otherwise. Besides, there was still one thing left to try.

It was time to do what Tarran did not want her to do.

Aoife spent her time in the library that afternoon with a stack of papers and a pen, writing pages and crumpling them over and over. Her penmanship was not the best, and her grasp of written words was limited, but in case this went very badly, she was determined to leave him something. After starting and stopping and throwing away several versions, she finally settled on two simple sentences.

If this goes wrong, know I love you. I wanted to try.

In the end, if things did go wrong, she wanted him to know that it wasn't his fault. He was worth it to try. Aoife didn't think she could bring herself to go on living if the curse took his life and she still hadn't done everything she possibly could to save him. It would eat away at her heart and her soul for the rest of her existence, and judging by what they'd learned of her magic, that existence was apt to be a very, very long time.

She had to try.

That night, she refused to fall asleep, lying with her eyes wide open and locked on the flickering embers in the fireplace as she waited to hear the steady sound of Tarran's breathing. He would never let her do this while he was conscious, so she'd simply have to try in the middle of the night and hope he didn't wake during the process.

Around two in the morning, when the moon was high in the sky and visible outside his bedroom window, Aoife was positive he was well and truly asleep. She carefully, slowly crept out of the bed, trying to shift the mattress as little as possible when she moved.

Pulling the note from her pocket as quietly as possible, she placed it on his bedside table. With luck, he would find it. With more luck, she could get rid of it herself before he ever saw anything at all.

Aoife took a few slow, steadying breaths. Somewhere in the center of her body, her magic flared to life with a gentle rush of heat. It was like it knew what they were about to do, like it was ready for a fight and entirely unafraid.

A whirl of thoughts and memories flashed through her mind.

Tarran dancing around a ballroom, lost in the joy of movement.

Tarran rolling his eyes at her from across the library.

Tarran's cool skin against hers.

Her head felt dizzy, her body shaking in a way that had nothing to do with her magic, not this time. She could not lose someone else she loved. It would break her.

Tarran deserved better than this as his ending.

"Please let him stay," she begged, her voice so soft that it was almost inaudible. "Please."

Aoife stood beside him, carefully placing her hand over his and praying it wouldn't wake him, but he seemed soundly asleep. She resisted the urge to watch him sleep peacefully for a moment and instead closed her eyes, searching for that well of power somewhere inside her and willing it to connect with the man she loved.

Reaching out for that oily slickness battling for Tarran's life, Aoife focused all her willpower on her magic. There might still be a chance. It might not be too late, not if she could do this, not if she could try hard enough.

This time, when she found that black tar underneath the surface of his magic, she let her power loose.

It was like a crashing wave overtaking a beach, but a thousand times larger, a thousand times stronger. The magic surged through her body with a raging heat like she'd never felt before, running after the oily black curse inside Tarran like attack dogs running after their prey. Her vision swam and clouded, her head spun, and her heart raced, but still Aoife refused to let go. Her magic knew what to do. It knew what she wanted- what they both wanted. All she had to do was hang on long enough to let it do its work.

The spinning turned to weightlessness and the burning turned to pain, but Aoife held on, refusing to stop as she let her magic chase the darkness out of his veins. She would not let him go, not like this.

She loved him far too much for that.

And just as Aoife thought she would surely lose consciousness, something moved under her fingertips.

It felt like a heartbeat...

It felt like a breath of air...

Aoife's world went black.