Her skin is stained with silver licorneir blood, and her face is pinched with the pallor and pain that accompanies approaching death. Almost corpselike, so low is the spark of life inside her. I’ve seen this kind of suffering before, but I do not want to name it, do not want to acknowledge it. Do not want it to be true. Not for her. Never for her.
But I force myself to look at Halamar, who stands close beside me. “Is she . . . ?”
“Velrhoar.”He speaks the confirmation in a low voice, heavy with certainty. He knows the truth better than most, having endured it himself. He meets my gaze, and though his face is as stonelike as ever, I glimpse a sheen of tears in his black eyes. “I am sorry,luinar.”
My throat too thick to allow for breath, I kneel at the bedside. My fumbling hand finds hers, and I draw it to me, bowing over her. “Ilsevel,” I say softly. “Ilsevel, can you hear me?”
There is no sign of life or recognition. She lies so still. Her face looks otherworldly, stained as it is with Diira’s blood.
A terrible sob rips from my lips. I find I’m talking in a wild manner, a stream of half-formed words, begging her forgiveness. I should have protected her. I should never have told her to run. I should have been strong enough for her, for Diira. If only I could take this pain from her I would. Far better for me to suffer than to watch her suffering.
“Please, Ilsevel,” I plead incoherently. “Wake up and tell me how. Tell me how I can make it right for you, my love, my love.”
She does not stir. Her breathing is painfully shallow.
“She is in the worst of it now,” Halamar says softly behind me.
“How long will it last?”
“I do not know. It could be hours yet. Days even. And when she wakes . . .”
I drag in a shuddering breath, remembering all too vividly how it was when Halamar woke from a similar stupor. How hard both Tassa and I fought to keep the man alive through the depths of his despair. It was a hard battle, and even now I often wonder if it wasever truly won, despite the evidence which stands before me.
I gaze down at Ilsevel. Oh, gods, she’s already lost so much, suffered so much. First her sister and now this? Why? Why, why,why?I don’t know if I cry the prayer out loud or scream it from the silent depths of my soul. Why would the gods bring her back from death itself, restore her in that blessed bond of song with one of their own mighty beasts? Why would they do that only to rip Diira from her again? To leave her worse off than she was before? Better to have died by flame than to endurevelrhoar.
I don’t know how I’ll bear it. In that moment I would curse the gods themselves and let them strike me down. But I can’t. I must remain strong. For Ilsevel. She is going to need me.
A large hand comes down on my shoulder. “Luinar,” Lathaira says, “you must let her go.”
I shudder, hunching away from that touch and over my pale bride.
“She suffers too much,” the chieftain continues relentlessly. “It is not fair to keep her here. When she wakes—if she wakes—you know what you must do. You must free her. Send her back to her own kind. Let her forget all this.”
I shake my head, an inarticulate growl in my throat.
But Lathaira will not stop. “It is not fair to keep her here. Bonded to a licorneir as she was, she had a chance of finding her place. Now? She will be seen only as avelrhoar. She will be hated and despised all the more for having lost one of our blessed ones. You know what I say is true, Taarthalor. You know you cannot keep her now.”
“Get out,” I whisper.
“Luinar—”
“Get out!All of you! Leave me with my wife!” I whirl in a crouch, fists clenched, eyes flashing with the threat of violence. One hand reaches for a sword that is not at my belt. If it had been, I cannot guarantee that I wouldn’t have drawn it and thrown myself at Lathaira then and there. She stares down at me, her eyes wide, and I feel both Halamar and Sylcatha’s gazes on me as well. Then Lathaira inclines her head. Without another word she leaves thedakath,followed by the other two.
I turn to Ilsevel once more. Lifting her limp hand to my lips, I kiss it ardently, passionately. “Ilsevel,” I murmur. “Ilsevel, feel my love for you. Let it guide you back. Even as you drew me out of darkness, let me draw you out from this pain. Please, myzylnala.You are needed here still. You are loved.”
Bowing my head over her, I press my face into her breast and weep like a lost child.
27
ILSEVEL
Over and over again I relive Diira’s collapse to the ground, the outpouring of her blood.
Cover yourself, Vellara,she sings, even as the life spools out from her body, breaking apart in bursts of light in the atmosphere over her head.Cover yourself in my blood—they will not find you then.
I throw myself at her, wrap my arms around her, trying to stop the flow of blood. There is so much, too much. It soaks my clothes, stains my skin, matts my hair. All around me, hobgoblins rip into Diira’s body, as though I’m not even there. They pay me no more attention than they might a speck of dust.
And the blood will not stop flowing.
