To Hell and Back by L.B. Gilbert

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Rhys resisted the urge to ram his second through the wall. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would teach Naveen not to disobey him again.

Except he hadn’t given explicit orders to stop Valeria from casting spells. The wily witch had used his second’s ignorance against him. No doubt she had made the whole thing seem reasonable. Naveen had let her do what she wanted because the only one at risk was the witch.

And when it came down to it, his second hadn’t believed she would do anything to hurt herself. He knew all this, but Rhys was no longer rational on this score.

“How could you let her do it?” he growled. “You are my second. It’s your job to assess the danger to our people—that should have included her. She is our guest.”

And in their culture, guests were sacrosanct.

Naveen hung his head, remorse and regret a thick cloud around him. “I accept full responsibility for my failure. I did not see the danger until it was too late.”

He began to say something else but paused, closing his mouth rather than defending himself further. Silent, he awaited discipline.

Rhys sighed. “Just go assist Eliana with the search for a human healer.”

It was the most important thing at the moment.

Naveen hesitated. “Yes, sir. But before I go, I should mention Valeria mentioned a witch gift called psychometry. She wanted to recall Gabrielle’s memories because she wants to be yours without guilt that she’s stealing from a dead woman.”

He closed his eyes. Somehow, that only made it worse.

After his second exited, Rhys sat on the bed next to the too-still Valeria and put his hand on her cheek. It was cool to the touch, but her skin warmed with the heat of his hand.

“I am very angry at you,” he told her, focusing on that emotion to block out all the others roiling in his breast.

Psychometry.

Rhys had researched many witch gifts in his time on Earth. This one, he recognized. It was a useful gift for those who cared about the provenance of treasure. But dragons didn’t care whether a tiara was new or old as long as the precious metal and jewels it was made of were real. And really, what value should they assign to an antique who had belonged to a human king? Many of the Draconai were older than most Earth kingdoms.

Valeria’s failure to bring back the psychometric magic had caused considerable damage to her brain. Veda had diagnosed her with a minor hemorrhage, and he’d done everything he could to heal it. But Valeria wasn’t Rhys’ mate, not yet. And Veda’s power to heal a human outside their clan was limited, no matter how much he wanted it to be otherwise.

Even with Aggie’s assistance, Valeria would not wake.

It went against every instinct to bring in an outsider, but that was what they were going to have to do if she didn’t wake on her own soon.

Rhys stayed at Valeria’s side for another few hours. Her condition was unchanged when Jerik came back with an update. “Sir, I found something that I believe you need to see.”

Rhys reached out and took one of the ultra-thin tablets Jerik liked to work on. Frowning, he scanned the first line of the summary his man had written. “I thought I told you only human physicians. This is a male witch.”

And any other witch was a threat to Valeria.

“I know, sir, but look at him,” Jerick urged.

Resisting the urge to crush the delicate electronic device, he took a closer look at the healer’s bio. “Is this a joke? I ask for a healer and you find me the scion of the most notorious witch clans on this side of hell?”

The Delavordo family was one of the Seven, the biggest and oldest witching families. Notorious for spawning black magic practitioners who periodically tried to destroy the world, the name alone was enough to inspire dread in weaker minds.

Still, letting any near Valeria was lunacy, even if this man’s biography said he had been excised from the family by his own choice.

“Sir, look at his eyes,” Jerik pressed.

Confused at his junior’s insistence, Rhys obeyed. The color was distinctive, a hazel that was all green and gold with no brown in the mix. A combination that he could see now if Valeria would just open her damn eyes.

He sucked in a breath, understanding.

“It’s the bone structure, too,” Jerik said. “This Salvador Delavordo has the same ocular shape as her—the same cheekbones. His lips are thinner, but their overall shape is the same. And you can see his ears since his hair is pulled back. Those are the same, too.”

The younger dragon broke off, rubbing his temple. “There are too many genetic markers in common for it to be a coincidence, not when you take in the magical aptitude.”

Valeria, a Delavordo witch.It made a damnable sort of sense.

Rhys closed his eyes, praying for patience. No, he would not deny the evidence in front of him. But he did stop for a moment to wish the universe would stop jerking him around like a child’s plaything.

“Whatever else is true, Valeria doesn’t know or suspect a connection.” She couldn’t.

“Some of that clan have been known to cannibalize their own,” Jerik murmured uncomfortably.

“I know, but that that didn’t happen to her.” Valeria was too powerful, too precious.

Not everyone in the Delavordo coven was power-hungry or mad. A treasure like her would have been protected. The group hunting her was outside the Delavordo family.

They can’t know. If they did, the hunters would be dead. He’d bet his horde on it.

Rhys rubbed his aching head. “Find me a human brain doctor,” he said finally.

For now, he’d continue to shelve the idea of a witch healer. Valeria was hurt, but she was stable. If they failed, then he’d look into this outcast witch, Salvador Delavordo. But not before. It was just too risky.