“Very well. Brandt returned moments ago with a message from . . .” Caddaric glanced at the wolf. Erik still held Kristine’s hand in his mouth. “Charmion has agreed to your terms.”
Erik tugged on Kristine’s hand, a growl that sounded very much like a question rising in his throat.
“I sent Charmion a note,” Kristine explained. “I told her I would . . . I would give her our baby if she would revoke the curse.”
Erik shook his head, a sharp growl of protest rumbling deep in his throat.
“Erik, it’s the only way,” Kristine said. “Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I want that witch to have my child? Our child?” She sniffed back her tears. “You can hate me if you wish, I don’t care! I don’t care. I have to do this. Please understand.”
He released her hand, his tongue stroking lightly over the marks his teeth had left in her tender flesh. Forgive me, beloved, forgive me.
And then, with a growl, he shook his head again, needing to make her understand, desperate for her to know that there was no way to break the spell, that anything Charmion promised would be a lie. Only Dominique had the power to revoke the hideous curse.
He tried desperately to form the words, howled with frustration when he could not.
Caddaric helped Kristine to her feet and drew her away from the bars. “Come,” he said. “I think our presence is upsetting him.”
“I’ll come to see you later,” Kristine said. Blinded by her tears, she let the wizard lead her away.
“What solution have you found?” Kristine asked.
“I do not trust Charmion,” Caddaric replied. He sat on a low sofa beside Edith, holding her hand. “We cannot allow you to go to her with the child. In her own realm, her power is far too strong. She could take the babe and destroy Erik, and there would be nothing you could do to stop her. Nor can we allow her to come here, to Hawksbridge.”
Edith looked up at her husband. “Caddaric, what are you trying to say?”
“We need to find neutral ground, someplace where her dark magic will have no power.”
“Where might that be?” Edith asked.
“You are certain you wish to do this, Kristine? Certain you want to exchange your child for Erik’s life?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. Her evil magic is of little effect within the sanctuary of holy ground. We will meet at the chapel near Hawksbridge Cross. The priest there will be entrusted to hold the child and instructed to give the babe to Charmion only when Erik has been returned to his human form.”
“But if her magic is of no effect in the chapel, how will she revoke the spell?”
“Revoking an evil spell is not considered evil magic. There is a room in the cellar of the church. We will put Erik there. Once Erik is human again, the priest will give the babe to Charmion. When she is gone, we will free Erik.”
“How will we keep Erik from going after her?”
“That, my dear, will be up to you. However, if I know Charmion, she will not return to Cimmerian Crag.”
“Why not? It’s her home.”
“Only one of many. I think she will take the child to her holding in the south. It is a far more cheerful place, if any place where that witch dwells can be considered cheerful. Dominique was born there.” Caddaric drummed his fingers on the ebony table beside the sofa. “The other alternative is to put a spell on Erik that will make it impossible for him to find Cimmerian Crag, should she return.” The wizard grunted softly. “That may be the wisest thing to do, in any case.”
Kristine nodded. Would the wizard’s plan work, she wondered, and then thrust all doubt from her mind. It had to work.
It was their only hope.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It started at midmorning, a dull ache low in her back, gradually escalating, until she knew it wasn’t just another pain, but the onset of labor.
She rang for Leyla and Lilia, who smiled and patted her hands, then went to gather fresh linens.
Edith and Caddaric came to sit with her, but it was Erik she wanted. Erik she needed. Wolf or man, he was her husband and she needed him beside her.
“I want Erik.” She clasped Edith’s hands in hers. “Please, I want Erik.”
Edith sent the two silent women from the room. “Bring him,” she told her husband. “If it will ease her mind to have him here, then bring him.”
Caddaric shook his head. “How can you suggest I bring him here? We know not how he will react to her cries, or to the scent of blood.”
But as the hours passed and Kristine’s labor grew more intense, when she writhed helplessly on the bed, crying Erik’s name, screaming Erik’s name, the wizard relented. A wave of his hand brought the wolf to Kristine’s bedside.