***
My progress was slow, slower than it had ever been. But then, my body had never received such an infusion of power before. It was like someone had reached into me and moved my insides around to make room for a wholenewset of insides—which, I supposed, was exactly what had happened.
Everything ached. Weeks passed before I could leave my room, which was one of the largest guest rooms at Rosewarren—it was easier for the healers to access than the barracks, and boasted large windows that could be opened in the afternoon to let in the fresh winter air.
Every day someone came to me with a report, delivered under the watchful eyes of Freyda, Nanette, or Welma, who had come straight to Rosewarren when summoned. Most often it was Brigid who came to see me, but sometimes it was Cira, and sometimes my sisters. They told me about everything that was happening at the priory, and down in Fairhaven, and at Ivyhill and Big Deep—everywhere the war had touched.
The Middlemist had returned to its proper location, leaving behind a tapestry of shattered lands and ravaged woodlands. Refugees were slowly returning to their homes; an enormous effort was underway to rebuild all the buildings that had been lost. Soldiers from both armies constantly ran supplies from the capital to their assigned towns.
One Tuesday morning, Farrin brought reports from Vauzanne and Aidurra and read them to me—my eyes were one of the last things to heal, and it hurt every time I tried to focus on something for longer than a few seconds.
“The Knotwood, like the Middlemist, has fallen back behind its traditional borders,” she told me, as I lay in bed trying to concentrate on the sound of her voice. “The Crescent of Storms has too, and has also calmed significantly. No more hurricanes, only the ordinary lightning storms that Aidurrans living near the Crescent have been dealing with since its creation.”
I listened to her with my eyes closed, my lips pressed together as if that could somehow shut out all other noise.
With every day that passed, I could feel more of what was happening at Rosewarren. Every Rose on patrol, every Rose in the stables grooming the horses, every Rose laughing with her friends as they lounged among the roots of the Heart Tree—I could sense them all. Wisps of feeling brushed constantly against the edges of my awareness. Mostly it was a muddled wash of color and sound. But if I concentrated hard enough on one particular feeling, I found that I could focus my attention on a single Rose or a specific location for a few seconds before losing my mental grip.
“…and both Arora and Joseline will visit Fairhaven next week. They plan to meet with Ankaret before coming here to see you.”
The Wardens of the Aidurran and Vauzanian Orders, respectively. Hearing their names gave me a thrill of nerves.
“Not once in all my time here have I ever met them or even seen them,” I told Farrin. “Nor have I ever met the women under their commands.”
She looked surprised. “I wonder why. Surely everyone would have benefited from all three Orders working closely together.”
“I asked the Warden about it once. She told me she didn’t approve of their philosophies and that they’d all had a terrible argument, one they’d never been able to come back from.” I looked down at my hands. “Now, of course, I don’t believe anything she ever said. I’m sure she was planning all of this for years and had to isolate herself from them before they could find out the truth and try to talk her out of it.”
Farrin said my name quietly and touched my arm. Only then did I realize I was crying.
“I’m tired of crying,” I said, “and I certainly don’t want to cry for her, but being angry at her doesn’t feel any better, and thinking of how much I loved her is worst of all. I’d really rather just not feel anything.”
I leaned against Farrin’s shoulder, wiped my face, and gazed at the blurry white window.
“How do you even begin to recover from the blow of someone you love disappointing you so completely?” I whispered.
Farrin drew in a deep breath. “I’m still working out the answer to that one.”
“You mean with Father.”
“Mm. And Philippa too.”
I was quiet for a long time before speaking again. “I wish I’d been there to help you after Mother left.”
“I don’t,” she said at once. “I’m glad you didn’t see Father like that. It was bad enough that Gemma and I had to.”
I felt a little flare of anger come and go. “Well, at least I would have been home.”
Farrin squeezed my hand in apology. “That’s true.”
“And we would have been together, all three of us. It might have been easier in some ways.”
“Well,” she said, resting her cheek against the top of my head, “we can be together now.”
***
Gemma made me promise that the first time I took a walk outdoors, she could be there to escort me.
On the morning of that first walk, as I practiced striding about my rooms while Welma examined my gait and Nanette scanned my face for signs of pain—and while Freyda glared at both of them, on guard for any behavior she didn’t approve of—Gemma burst in, beaming in her furs, and hurried over to embrace me.
