Halaema settles back in her hunched attitude. “I would urge you to think very carefully on this choice, Taarthalor. Is such a future what either of you wish? A shadow existence for her, always one step behind your chosen queen. Children who will be viewed as bastards, half-breeds.”
“We are all half-breeds, Halaema. We are allibrildian.”
Her eyes flash. “We are Licornyn. Set apart by Nornala herself, a holy people blessed with holy purpose. Forget this truth at your peril.”
I grit my teeth. “I will choose no other wife, no other queen.”
“That’s up to you, of course.” She shrugs again. “But if such is your choice, the crown will pass to whichever chieftain’s son or daughter is powerful enough to wrest control of it. And I make no guarantee this struggle won’t come sooner rather than later.”
With those words, she begins to unfold her old limbs, groaning and creaking painfully as she rises. When she has drawn herself up as far as her bent body will allow, she leans heavily on her stick and points a long finger at me. “Think on it, boy. Closely. Talk it over with your little bride as well. She seems to have a mind of her own. Who knows? If she truly cares for you, she might make you see reason.”
“There is nothing you or the elders can do to break what exists between me and Ilsevel.”
“Perhaps not.” Halaema sighs. “But I hope you will not be soblinded by infatuation as to destroy all the hopes of Licorna.” She reaches under the folds of her heavy robes and produces a small knife. She props her walking stick under one arm, holds out a trembling palm and, without hesitation, cuts a long streak. Blood oozes in a thick line. She turns to me, offering the blade. “Remember,” she says. “Untilsilmael.I want your word. Break it, and her life is forfeit,velrabonds notwithstanding.”
I draw a long, slow breath. Then, taking the knife, I cut my own palm and clasp her hand tight, sealing my unspoken promise.
9
ILSEVEL
How does a soul come to terms with being trapped in a mortal frame once more?
I am exquisitely aware of every particle of my body as it tries to come all to pieces and scatter. It’s far more than human consciousness is meant to grasp, and the result leaves me in a numb, nearly comatose state of being—not asleep, but incapable of interacting with the world around me. Only Diira’s song, singing through me, gives me shape and definition. That and the golden thread of Taar’s love, which pulls me back down into this world, providing a necessary anchor. If not for the strength of that bond, I don’t think I could bear it, don’t think I could allow myself to become so heavy, so solid.
Slowly, however, that horrible awareness dulls, receding to some distant part of my mind where it can be forgotten. My sensesreturn. I become conscious of soft cushions propping up my limbs and the scent of wool and hide and ilsevel perfume in my nostrils. My tongue tastes of iron—I must have bitten it at some point amid all the jostling. It feels thick in my mouth, like some fat toad has taken up residence there. Not the sort of tongue which sings with the gift of gods.
I swallow painfully, my throat parched. Summoning up whatever strength I can muster, I crack open my eyelids. A soft white glow surrounded by close shadows fills my vision. At first this is all the impression I can manage, but slowly my vision clarifies. Alicathalantern hangs over me, the liquid contained in the glass swirling gently. Tiny specks of light float like stardust in that swirl, reminding me of how it felt to be stardust. But that memory is fading swiftly. Which is just as well. Mortal minds are not meant to recall such things.
“Ilsevel?”
Taar’s voice. I close my eyes again, squeezing them tight, and concentrate on the thrum of song rippling along our soul-thread. Then, slowly, I turn my head. It feels so heavy, a stone block at the end of my neck. But I manage to turn it, to peer out through my lashes and look at my husband. For an instant I don’t seehimso much as the brilliant coils of gold surrounding him, shining with songlight. A blink—now his features come into view. Solemn, lined with care and worry. So beautiful.
“Yes.” The word comes out in a thick croak. I clear my throat and try again. “I know you, warlord. My mind is not completely garbled.”
A smile breaks through the stern line of his mouth. Are those tears glinting on his cheeks in the swaying light of thelicathalamp? “You brave, brilliant creature,” he says, drawing my hand to his mouth but not quite kissing it. Instead he presses his lips tightly together and rests his forehead briefly against my knuckles. “Not one woman in a thousand would do what you have done.”
I wince at this and close my weary eyes once more. “I don’t seem torememberwhat I have done. Not sure I can take the credit for it.”
He lowers my hand but does not relinquish his hold on it. “Don’t try to remember. Know only that you have proven yourself and your bond to Diira. The elders are convinced; there is nodrothlar.”
“And you?” I murmur even as tendrils of sleep reach out to claim me. “Are you convinced, husband?”
“I never doubted. Not for a second. Rest now, my love. Rest.”
He needn’t urge me. I’m already drifting off.
When I wake next, Taar is still with me. This time he has food and water. Though my limbs still feel like they’ve been carved from petrified wood, I’m able to sit up with some assistance. A gulp of ilsevel-purified water does wonders for all the stiffness in my bones, and I manage to swallow a few bites of some cake. It’s similar to theumecake we ate on the road, only much softer. The earthy sweetness lingers on my tongue.
As I sit there chewing, I reach out for my licorneir. Her song wraps around me, ever-present and sustaining, but I feel an ache in my chest. “Where is Diira?” I ask around a mouthful.
“Waiting for you, just outside,” Taar replies. “She’s eager to see you as soon as you are ready to rise.”
I plant my hands on either side of me, determined to scramble out of bed then and there. But the faintest push, and the world around me whirls dizzyingly. I fall back into the cushions, panting. “I might need a minute.”
Taar’s mouth quirks. “You’ve been through a terrible ordeal, my love. You might need more than a minute.”
Leaning my head back, I let out a long breath, staring up at thelicathalamp overhead. It is no longer the only light source in the room; sunlight seeps through crevices and cracks in thedakathhide and window flaps. I’ve slept well into the next day, apparently.
