Only then did she realize that she was safe in her bed at Ard Dhaimhin. It had only been a dream. She pushed her wet hair away from her forehead and rolled onto her back, drawing in deep breaths to flush out the fear that remained. It had been a dream, but not her own. Conor’s. The memory of the things she had relived along with him hit her at the same time her stomach decided to give up its pretense of being settled, and she barely made it to the chamber pot. She’d thought she’d known what he’d been through. She’d had absolutely no idea. Aine slumped back against the wall, welcoming the cold of the stones as it seeped through her shift and cooled her feverish body. She’d left her mind open to Conor for this very reason, but she’d never thought she could get dragged into his dream. He’d even known it was a dream, but try as he might, he hadn’t been able to break free. And tied to him as she was, neither had she. Dear Comdiu, I pray Your peace upon us. No wonder Conor was so edgy and irritable.
What do You think about The Sword And The Song (2015)?
