Braving Fate (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 1) by Linsey Hall Page B

wasn’t just any man, and it would be so easy to roll over and crook her finger at him.  

    A sharp cry broke through the early dawn stillness. Cadan sat bolt upright in the chair by the window and was at Diana’s side in seconds. She tossed weakly in her sleep, her face twisted with fear. A terrible trapped-animal noise came from her throat.  
    “Let go,” she cried.
    Her fist made contact with the side of his head when he tried to keep her from thrashing. Definitely a nightmare.
    Cadan gently gripped her shoulders and shook her lightly. “Diana, wake up.”  
    She thrashed, trying to lash out again. His hand trembled as he stroked her head. What was she dreaming of that terrified her so much?  
    “Please, lassie, wake up.” When she did nothing, he shook her again, slightly harder this time.
    Diana gasped, and her eyes flew open in confusion. “What happened? Where am I?”
    “Shhh, shhh.” He gathered her into his arms. “It’s all right. You just had a nightmare.”  
    She trembled in his arms. She seemed smaller than she ever had, and protectiveness welled within him, which turned to panic when she started to cry.  
    “Come on now, lassie, what is it? Doona cry.”
    She began to gasp through her sobs.  
    Oh, shite. He didn’t know how to make this better, so he cradled her and stroked her hair. He’d do anything to keep her safe. But how was he supposed to protect her from dreams?
    He sat up and gathered her closer to him, tucking her head underneath his chin. It felt so right to hold her. “It was a dream about your past.” There was no question in his mind.
    “Yes,” she said, hiccupping, exhaustion tingeing her voice.
    “Tell me about it.” He hoped dread didn’t color his. He couldn’t stifle the fear of what she might have dreamed. “Why were you upset?”
    “I was her again, but I wasn’t dying this time. I’ve always been dying in the dream. I’ve felt everything—the pain, the horror—and I thought that was the worst feeling in the world. But I was wrong.”
    His stomach turned. She’d felt Boudica’s death? “How many times have you felt it?”  
    “More than I can count since I was a child. But it’s always the same dream—an overwhelming sense of betrayal. And the knife.”
    The knife. He swallowed. “What was the dream now? What could be worse than dying so many times?”  
    His stomach turned. He had no doubt that she remembered it all accurately—the feelings, both physical and emotional. They wouldn’t be normal dreams, created from imagination and suggestion. They would be ingrained memories, which in Boudica’s case were full of tragedy and misery.
    “I’m tied up and being carried over the shoulder of the same man who holds me while I die. I couldn’t… I couldn’t control any of it.” She pushed away from him and climbed out of bed. It was cold in the room, but she didn’t seem to notice as she began to pace, her eyes distant, with the waxy look of a person about to be ill.
    “It was cold. Raining in a never-ending drizzle. I was so angry with him, probably because he was abducting me, and I was screaming at him, trying to reason with him. But he wouldn’t listen, and carried me to a small round house in the middle of the woods. I could only think, Not now. He can’t keep me from this. I must be there. Everything depends upon this. ” She stopped by the window, her hands tightly gripping the stone sill as she gazed out.
    “But he left me there. Tied up and alone.” She drew in a ragged breath. “While my daughters needed me. God, I was scared. And mad. Maybe that’s why I felt betrayed when I died.”
    “You won’t die again. I’m going to protect you, lassie.” His voice, his vow, was fierce.
    She turned and gave him a wan but appreciative smile. Then her gaze turned questioning. “But why did he lock me up? Make me a prisoner?”  
    Cadan looked away.
    “Tell me. This is something you know, isn’t it? Who are the girls? Did I