“Because weak as she may be, Isadora’s Argolean heritage is stronger than the half-breed’s. She’ll take what she’s missing and she’ll be healed.” The king reached out and laid a hand on Theron’s shoulder, and in his touch there was compassion, though Theron couldn’t tell if it was directed at him, at Isadora or at the daughter he’d never known. “It’s not a question of how, Theron, it’s a question of when. You have to find this woman and bring her to Isadora. Before it’s too late.”
This woman. Theron didn’t miss the fact the king refused to call her by name. If she was indeed the Chosen One, and Theron was sent to find her, his presence in her life would lead her right to her death.
He’d killed many. Death was a part of who and what he was. But rarely a human, and only when it was unavoidable. And never a female.
What if Casey was this Chosen One? Could he do it?
As quickly as the thought struck, he dismissed it. The marking he’d seen on her back wasn’t proof. There was still a chance it had been nothing more than a normal tattoo. Or a simple birthmark. He’d been tired and injured and spiked up on lust when he’d been with her. He hadn’t been thinking clearly last night.
“How will I know her?” he asked.
“Because she bears the marking of the Chosen, just like Isadora.” The king’s voice softened as Theron’s mind spun. “Sometimes, my son, a great sacrifice by one must be made for the survival of many. Find her, Theron. And bring her to Isadora. You are the only one who can.”
CHAPTER NINE
Casey clenched her hands in her lap, released her fingers and fought the urge to pop her knuckles. What the hell was taking so long?
She glanced at the wall clock in Dr. Carrow’s exam room Monday afternoon and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Ten minutes she’d been waiting. Only ten minutes. She needed to get a grip and settle down.
Two more minutes passed. Two minutes in which Casey felt like crawling out of her skin.
Okay, so sitting still wasn’t going to do it for her. The paper crinkled as she hopped off the table and held the pink cotton gown together at her back. Coming here was a smart thing. Playing the what-if game over her exhaustion and nausea wasn’t doing her any good. There was a logical explanation for the way she’d been feeling lately. It didn’t mean she was going to end up like her grandmother.
A crisp knock sounded at the door, and Casey whipped around at the sound. “Come in,” she said quickly, moving back to the exam table.
Dr. Jill Carrow walked into the room dressed in slacks and a navy blouse. Her auburn hair was pulled into a ponytail, a stethoscope was looped around her neck and she held a medical chart in her hand. She was, Casey thought, probably not much older than herself, but she exuded a confidence Casey had never known. And that put Casey at ease. At least a bit.
Jill smiled. “It’s good to see you, Casey. It’s been a while.”
“Yeah.” Casey shrugged, feeling stupid for not calling the woman who’d taken care of her grandmother up until the end. She balled her hands into fists at her sides against the vinyl cushion and thought of the thousand excuses she’d conjured up for why she hadn’t scheduled that lunch date as she’d promised six months ago at her grandmother’s funeral. They all sounded lame now. She settled on the truth instead. “Doctor’s offices aren’t my favorite places to hang out.”
Jill chuckled. “Trust me, I know. No harm done.” She sat on the swivel stool, opened her folder to study her last notes and then looked up. “So tell me what’s going on.”
Casey took a deep breath. “Nothing much. I mean, well…” Here’s where she sounded like a hypochondriac. She crossed her dangling stocking feet at the ankles, twisted her hands together in her lap again. “I’ve been having some symptoms. Nothing major, but…” She bit her lip.
Jill immediately nodded in understanding. “But you just thought you’d get them checked out to be safe.” She rose from her seat and set the folder on the counter along the far wall. With one hand she pulled a penlight from her pocket and flashed the beam over Casey’s eyes. “Let’s take a look.”
“It’s probably nothing,” Casey said quickly. “I mean, a little insomnia’s not a big deal, really. I—”
“Casey.” Jill put her hand on Casey’s arm. “A smart woman takes cues from her body. If she notices something out of the ordinary, she gets it checked out. You did the right thing by coming in. I’m sure it’s probably nothing, but it’s worth a quick check. And considering your family history, it’s a smart one.”
Casey released the breath she’d been holding. Of course Dr. Jill got it. She’d been foolish to think the woman wouldn’t. She managed a weak smile. “Thanks.”
Jill smiled. “Okay then. Now tell me what’s going on.”
Casey described her symptoms—insomnia, nausea, loss of appetite. She tried to downplay the bits of memory loss she’d experienced over the weekend because it hadn’t been anything her grandmother had gone through, but one scathing look from Dr. Jill and she threw them out there anyway. Might as well be completely honest.