The Weaver's Source

Chapter 66

"You're not!" I insisted but stilled when he belted out his song, letting it wrap around me comfortingly and push away the fear that had gripped me.

"I'm safe." He repeated sternly. "Now focus on me, Lyra. Breathe and calm yourself."

I sucked in the warm air of the room, the woodsmoke of Grigore's magic, his taste strong in my mouth. I willed myself to calm, to feel his strength and listen to his heartbeat. He surrounded me, strong and healthy, his reserves well, his body unhurt and his muscles taut. I wasn't sure how long it took me to calm down, to soothe down my magic and my own fear, untangling myself from it. Grigore simply held me patiently, his magic singing to me as his deep voice murmured, coaxing me to settle and match my breathing with his. Eventually I was calm enough to speak.

"I'm sorry." I stammered, suddenly abashed when I realised I had been so scared of a dream. I tried to move myself away from him, abruptly aware of my nakedness, but he refused to budge, so I remained in his arms, cheek against his chest, shy as he rubbed his chin against my hair.

"What happened?" He asked stiffly, his protective fury still burning through him.

"It's nothing." I said, trying to hide my embarrassment.

Grigore hand left my shoulder to tilt my face towards his, his fingers slipping down to circle the nape of my neck possessively as his gaze darkened. He wasn't happy at all, I realised. His eyes were like a storm, savage and hot.

"Nothing causes you to react like that. I felt your fear clearly back in the food hall." He growled. "Be honest with me, Lyra."

I bit my lip softly and my eyes darted to the parting of his shirt and jack, gazing at the lines of his throat nervously before I finally spoke. "I had a dream."

"A dream?" Grigore echoed.

"Like the one of Gabi." I said gently. "I've had it now and then for a while. It's of you." His expression was unmoving but I felt interest stir in him. "After the asrai attacked me, I've dreamt of snow and a fort. I found you there dead every time." I murmured nervously. "This time though you were alive, wounded but alive." My eyes flicked to his again, watching him intently. "There was a man as well. He was a blur, but he was a mage. You were going to fight him but..."

"I was going to die." He finished for me.

I nodded. He didn't say anything for a moment, just watched me. The anger was still stiff in his body, keeping me trapped to him.

"What did he look like?"

"I don't remember, only that he had blond hair."

Something hot ripped through him, anger twisted with hate, and his magic stirred dangerously. He suddenly wasn't looking at me anymore, his dark eyes were unfocused, his mind lost in thought. It was the same feeling I felt when he heard about a Weaver from the north back at the farming village. He knew the man in my dream.

"Grigore?" I called softly.

He snapped back to attention and smothered the surge of rage pulsing through him, wrestling it back under control. "Did you recognise the fort?"

I hesitated. I recognised it, yes, but only because I dreamt of it. So far, I had never seen it in person. "No."

"And this premonition, it's a guide rather than fact?"

Again, I hesitated. "Gabi's death came true," I said softly. "But I did save Giselle and Elsie when I dreamt of the black dog eating them and this dream has changed. You're not dead anymore."

"So it's a guide." Grigore murmured. His hand slipped up my neck, letting his thumb run along my jaw, soothing himself as he touched my skin and gazed down at me, his eyes lingering over my mouth. "Lyra, this isn't anything to worry about."