"I cried until I couldn't breathe," I murmur.
"So did I." She shifts carefully against her pillows.
We loved that bird with everything we had. It was the only beautiful thing in our ugly world.
"Why are you telling me this?" I ask.
Her eyes find mine, steady and knowing. "Did you ever regret freeing it?"
The answer comes without thought. "No. Never."
"Even though it hurt? Even though we wanted nothing more than for it to stay?"
"It wasn't ours to keep." The words taste like truth, bitter and clean. "It was a wild thing. Wild things aren't meant for cages, no matter how much we love them."
"Exactly." She squeezes my fingers. "Rhianelle, whatever this precious thing is that you're afraid to let go... you'll know. When the time comes, you'll know what's right. You always have."
I want to tell her she's wrong, that this is different. Svenn isn't some caged bird I can simply set free. But maybe that's exactly what he is. Maybe the book hidden in my nightstand is just another kind of key, and mortality is just another kind of sky.
"The bird was probably eaten by a hawk the moment it left us," I say, needing to break the weight of the moment.
"Maybe." A small smile plays at Blaire's lips. "Or maybe it flew all the way to the summer lands and lived a hundred happy years. We'll never know. That's what freedom means. The right to choose your own ending, even if it's not the one we'd write for them."
"You've gotten philosophical in your recovery."
"Near-death experiences will do that." She grins, then winces as it pulls at a cut on her lip. "Also, the healers' pain draughts make everything seem profound. Yesterday I spent an hour contemplating the meaning of bread."
I laugh. "So your advice is coming from drug-induced wisdom?"
Her expression grows serious again. "But truly, Rhianelle. Whatever you're carrying, just trust yourself. You've never failed to do the right thing, even when it hurts."
The right thing. I turn the words over in my mind as I think of Svenn, somewhere out there fighting through my enemies.
Blaire yawns suddenly, the healing taking its toll.
I stand, smoothing my ceremonial robes. "I should let you rest."
"Wait." Blaire gestures to the small table beside her bed. "Take the cake. I can't eat another bite and the acolytes will force it on me if it's still here in the morning."
I hesitate. "Blaire—"
"You haven't eaten today. Don't lie." She gives me a look.
I pick it up. The weight of it is small and warm in my hands.
"Rhianelle." Her voice stops me at the door. "When Svenn comes back, tell him I said thank you."
I nod and step into the corridor.
The temple halls are usually hushed on Isolwen's Eve. Even celebration carries a gentler tone beneath sacred stone.
Not today.
Bootsteps pound against marble and voices rise, urgent and clipped.
"Fetch more clean linen."
"Send for Master Caleth!"
