Vowed to offer any sacrifice, surrender an arm or a leg. Anything, if Nyssa healed Xára’s voice.Nyssa shuddered. She gasped. Her eyes rolled back in her head. She collapsed.In one fell swoop, Konáll caught his wife before she hit the stone floor.Xára swayed.Dráddør leapt to her side and scooped his wife into his arms. His heart hammered and he scanned her face with an unheralded anxiety. She had swooned. Her flesh had paled to the point where the blue-green veins pulsing at her temples were clearly visible. He cupped her cheek and cursed. Her skin was clammy and icy.“Xára.” He patted her face. “Xára.”“Here.” Skatha handed him a warm, damp cloth. “Nyssa is much in the same condition.”Gently, he wiped the dampness from her face. When he lifted her chin to do the same to her throat, his gut twisted in a violent knot. A thin viscous stream of black oozed from where the scar once was. “What is it?”“Methinks, ’tis what poisoned her voice.” Skatha glanced to the left.
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