“Clearly the Lemaires made a bargain with Kilraith to protect their land from the Knotwood,” I said, wincing a little at the effort it took to reach for him. “They had a choice. You didn’t.”
He must have heard the strain in my voice, for he turned to me and took my hands in his and kissed them, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against my fingers. “Don’t listen to me.”
“But I like listening to you, and I’m glad you’re helping Lily. Of course you’re helping her. My Gareth.” I struggled toward him, wanting to kiss him but unable to find the strength for it. “Please come closer, won’t you?”
“The healers told us that you nearly exhausted yourself to death,” Gareth said, hiding his face against my hands. His jaw clenched. “You were drawing on your power so fiercely and for so long that it almost ran out entirely, and with it your life. They’d never seen anything like that before. They didn’t know if they would be able to save you. Mara, I’ve never…” He blew out a sad, choked little laugh. “When they said that, I couldn’t breathe for a moment. Darling, you came so close to dying.”
“But I didn’t,” I said, my eyes hot with tears, “and now you know how I felt when I carried you away from that godsforsaken island. I suppose in a way this makes us even, doesn’t it?”
“No.” He shook his head. “No, that’s not true. Don’t shrug off what happened to you. That may work on other people, but it doesn’t work on me. And anyway, I wasn’t alone when I was injured. I had you. You had no one.”
Of course, that wasn’t entirely true, but I didn’t yet know how to break the news about Ankaret, and I’d never seen such raw despair on Gareth’s face. I tugged gently on his hands, offered him a small smile. “Gareth Fontaine, I won’t ask you again: Why aren’t you in this bed with me?”
He looked helplessly at me. “Gods, Mara, I’m the clumsiest ass tohave ever lived. I don’t want to jostle you. I don’t know what might hurt you.”
“You’re not clumsy. In fact, you’re quick and brave and good.”
“None of that negates clumsiness,” he said, a familiar wry note in his voice.
“Come here.” I tugged on his hands again, and this time, at last, he relented. He took off his shoes and then crawled into the bed so carefully that if he weren’t so obviously distressed, I might have laughed. Instead I kissed the tear trembling on the tip of his nose and drew him down to me. He shook in my arms, pressed a kiss to the hollow of my throat.
“What did you call me once? A menace?” He laughed quietly, the sound catching on a sob. “A menace indeed, crawling into your sickbed just to cry all over you.”
A monster and a menace.Suddenly, the wordmonsterdidn’t bother me as it once had. If I was indeed a monster, at least I washismonster. I closed my eyes and drew my fingers slowly through his hair.
“You honor me with your tears, Gareth Fontaine,” I said softly, and then added, “Besides, it’s nice to have someone besides me crying in this bed for once.”
“Oh gods,” he said roughly. “Mara, the thought of you crying here all by yourself, and in such pain—”
“No, forget I said that. It was a bad joke. I just don’t quite know what to do with myself, seeing you this sad.” I turned to kiss his hair. He’d bathed while I slept, and his soap smelled of sage and sandalwood. He was fresh and warm; I wanted to sink into the heat of him and never leave.
“I’m here, Gareth,” I whispered against his brow. “I’m right here, and I love you.”
***
I hated letting Gareth leave my sight, but there were things to discuss, and I wasn’t yet in a fit state to leave my bed—a fact that grated on me terribly. He and the others had been in conference with the royal councils all morning, and not knowing what they were talking about was driving me mad. When I couldn’t bear the stillness any longer, I forced myself out of bed and started to hobble around the room.
“You are anxious,” Ankaret remarked, sitting quietly in the corner. I’d given her one of the sleeping gowns Welma had provided for me. Somehow she made the humble cloth look regal.
“What gave me away?”
“You have been frowning and pacing for the last fifteen minutes. I do not think Welma would approve.”
Apparently dry humor was lost on this reborn Ankaret. I stopped to brace myself against the back of a chair and regarded her. “When will you show yourself to them? You’ve been able to maintain this form all morning.”
She shifted uneasily. As she did, flames sputtered at her fingertips. “I have not yet mastered control of my fire.”
“And what if you never do? Will you hide away forever?”
That made her bristle. I was glad of it; with her shoulders square and her jaw set, and her hair gathered up into a tidy knot, she looked like the queen I remembered. The only differences were the occasional erratic flames that crackled down her body and the color of her eyes. Yvaine’s eyes had been violet and gold; both of Ankaret’s eyes were a brilliant blue, as if they carried whole storms inside them.
Right now they flashed at me. She drew herself up as tall as she could. “You cannot understand what it feels like to die, to be reborn, to come back to the world as yourself and yet not.”
I sighed and rubbed my temple. My body longed to return to bed even as my heart revolted against the idea.
“No, I suppose I can’t understand that,” I admitted. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like being kept in this room. I feel like a caged animal.”
“You know that everyone only wishes for you to heal.”
