But I knew very well that was a lie. A tear slipped down my nose. A memory surfaced—Gareth, sipping wine beside me at Briarcourt.Our home, he had said.I’m sorry. It was only a daydream.I fell asleep thinking of his face.
***
For days I drifted in and out of the world. When the healers came to change my bandages and administer medicine, Ankaret hid somewhere in the room, or else flitted out the window onto the roof, but only during the day, when the sun was bright enough to hide her fire.
But once my nurses left, Ankaret stayed with me. We spoke very little; I didn’t have the strength for it. But the simple fact of her presence was a comfort. She was warm and patient, content to sit for hours beside me. And every time I woke, she was a little larger, a little more defined.
One day, nearly two weeks into my recovery, I opened my eyes to see a young woman pacing the room. She was small and pale, thin as a reed, but her jaw was square with determination, and she held her fists clenched at her sides. As she turned briskly for another circuit, her long white hair came into view, and fire snapped at her heels.
A chill raced down my arms. I knew that fire and that hair.
“Ankaret?” I whispered.
“She has—Ihave been practicing,” she said at once, fiercely. “It requires much concentration, and it is both tiring and tiresome. But it will be easier for everyone if I appear as Yvaine as often as I can. Ankaret stalking the halls would frighten the advisors.”
“And we can’t have that.”
She smiled grimly. “You are feeling better. Good.”
“Am I?” I pushed myself up onto my elbows, wincing. “I suppose we could call it that, if we’re being generous.”
Ankaret paused to look at me. “Can you walk?”
“I think so,” I replied, gingerly touching my toes to the floor. I hesitated, then slowly started putting weight on my feet. My joints ached in protest, and by the time I stood fully upright, a light sheen of sweat had broken out on my forehead. But I still managed to take a few halting steps, and with each one I felt a bit stronger.
I reached the table at the foot of my bed, leaned heavily on it, and turned back to Ankaret with a triumphant grin. But she wasn’t looking at me; she was staring at the closed door, worrying her hands together.
“They’re coming,” she said quietly. “They’re here. Forgive me, I cannot show myself yet. Later I will do it. Later, when I can bear it.”
“What? Who’s coming?”
She glanced at me with a small smile. “Your loves, Mara.”
My chest clenched around my heart. For a moment I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Then one of the healers burst in—Welma, a robust woman with sharp eyes and strong hands. She was my favorite out of all of them, and as she hurried toward me, she was beaming.
“Come, my lady,” she said, gently taking my arm. “Your sisters have arrived. You can lean on me. One step at a time, and then straight back to bed as soon as I say so.”
I glanced over my shoulder, but Ankaret was gone, and Welma showed no signs of having seen her. Still, I felt fluttery with nerves aswe left the room. My sisters had arrived, and thank the gods for that, but what about the others?
“Gareth.” His name escaped my lips on a single shaky breath.
There he was—there theyallwere, all five of them. They looked travel-worn and exhausted, and they wore borrowed clothes stained with mud and salt, but they werealive.
They turned to look at me, as did the dozen of others in the room—advisors from the royal council, healers, palace staff—and for a moment I feared my knees would give out, even with Welma holding me up.
But then Gareth was striding toward me, and everyone between us moved to make way for him. He was filthy, his hair was horribly mussed, as if he’d been raking his hands through it for hours, and his eyes were bright and a little wild, and he still didn’t have any glasses—and he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
He came to me and cradled my face in his hands. Welma scooted away with an irritated huff.
“Mara,” he said, his voice breaking. He smoothed his thumbs over my cheeks, and then he let out a shuddering breath and pulled me to him so gently that I wanted to cry. Instead I pressed my face into his collar and melted into him, my throat burning with trapped tears. He smelled like sweat, the sea, warm skin. He smelled likehim.
Slowly he wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my hair. He drew in a breath that sounded like pain.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he said. “Do you hear me?”
Somehow I managed to find my voice. “You mean running far away from you into certain danger to save the world?”
I felt his smile against my cheek. “Yes. That. I’m afraid I can’t support such a thing. My heart can’t bear it.”
