Page 165 of Dance of Thorns

“Bane? Are you there?”

Somehow, I drag my hand to his. I tap my fingers weakly against his skin.

“Bane, it’s me…”

That comforting sensation of warmth and light keeps coming and going, like a tide washing against a faraway shore. I force my fingers to slide over his hand, to the pulse point at his wrist.

I don't feel one.

And suddenly, I’m awake.

“Bane!” I cry out, my head lolling to one side against his body. “Bane, wake…wakeup…”

My eyes fall shut.

“Don’t go,” I whisper. “Not without me.”

A tear slides down my cheek. He’s not moving at all.

“Please don’t leave me.”

“Shhh, I’m right here, baby,” a voice croons softly from the darkness.

“Help is coming, Lark. Stay with me, baby. Stay with me.”

It’s not Bane.

It’s a woman’s voice, and a woman’s soft hands that are holding me to her chest and stroking my hair.

“Stay with me, baby.”

“Stay with me. Mommy’s here.”

47

LYDIA

Twenty-four years ago:

Rain lashes down in sheets,bolts of lightning splitting the sky as thunder booms like an angry god.

“There! There! I see them!”

Agatha’s voice barely carries over the roar of the storm about to slam into the beach. I follow where she's pointing, clutching the tiny bundle to my chest.

Thank fucking God.

A little way down the shore, a black rubber dinghy surges out of the surf and up onto the wet sand. Two men jump out and start to run toward us. I look at Agatha, then at the little bundle in her arms that matches the one in mine.

So new, and already on the run, like me.

I never wanted this for them, just as I didn't want the life I was thrust into, with a man who thinks of me as property and the babies he’ll never meet as bargaining chips.

Well, he’ll never get his hands on them. And he’ll never touch me again.

It doesn’t matter that I’ve made a deal with another devil to get away from the one I’m married to.

Better the devil you know, isn't that the saying?