Guilt and shame swam heavily through her gut. Leaving her friend behind with Ballanor and Grendel was the worst thing she’d ever done. And it hurt even worse than the arrow in her shoulder. It was her only job. Her only role and meaning in the world—protecting Alanna. And she had failed at the worst possible time.
Keely fought against the tears that threatened to clog her throat. She forced herself to focus on the dip and slide of the oars. On Lanval’s ragged breathing. On Tor’s steady presence. She had no choice other than to leave Alanna behind, but she could choose not to fall apart.
She began to settle into a strangely detached daze. Weeks of terror culminating in the debacle at the banquet and then abandoning Alanna were followed now by seeping, icy cold, and the relentless throbbing in her shoulder and down her arm.
Her prayers merged into the rhythm of the oars. The whispered commands and discussions around her disappeared into the distance, and the cold receded. Even the pain in her shoulder didn’t bother her as much.
She closed her eyes and drifted, enjoying the slow warmth spreading over her.
She could finally rest. Finally. She was warm and safe. And so tired. So very tired. Now she would sleep. And forget she’d left Alanna.
The wind rocked her gently, and she remembered an old lullaby her mother sang so many years ago. A song from the earliest days of her people. Remembered it as if she could hear it even now.
Lullaby, close your eyes,
When you sleep, baby,
Dream of me.
Darling child, close your eyes,
We are safe here,
Safe and free.
Lullaby, baby girl—
“No.” A rough voice broke into her dream, but she refused to allow it. She kept her eyes closed and chased that feeling, that detached warmth, back down into the darkness.
Someone shook her. “Wake up, Keely.”
What? Why? She tried to open her eyes, but that made her shiver, and the shivering jostled the arrow. Bard. She heard a low, pained groan and wondered if someone else was as miserable as she was.
“No more sleeping for you,” Tor stated, lifting her into his arms, the chain clanking between her and Nim. Bard, it hurt like a bitch. “It’s time to go.”
Wait… had they stopped? Were they walking?
The arrow digging into her shoulder roused her, but she kept her eyes closed, wishing she could go back to the safe, warm dream. “Just leave me.”
“No.” Tor stopped walking. Thank the Bard. But then there was a tug as her chained arm was pulled to the side.
There was a loud clang somewhere nearby, and she flinched. The thick arms under her knees and around her back tightened, holding her more firmly. “I’ve got you, Keely.” Tor’s voice was deep and reassuring but threaded through with concern. “One more.”
There was another loud clang, too loud to sleep through, and suddenly the tension on her arm relaxed and then they were moving again.
She forced her eyes open to see that Tor was carrying her through a genteel home. Flickering lamp and candlelight gleamed off polished woods and heavy drapes. “Where are we?” Her words came out as an exhausted whisper.
“Reece found us somewhere to stay,” Tor replied.
She was too exhausted to ask anything more. Instead, she let her head drop down onto his chest. Let her eyes drift closed.
Tor’s voice rumbled in her ear. “Sorry, Keely, I can’t let you do that. Stay awake for me.”
“I don’t want to.” Bloody hell. Did her voice sound as miserable and whiny to him as it did to her? She forced herself to keep her eyes open.
Tor chuckled, and the sound reverberated around her. “We need to get the arrow out and help you warm up. Then you can sleep.”
When last had anyone held her? So, so long ago. She was the strong one. The capable one. The person everyone could depend on. It was so much easier that way. If she didn’t need anyone, they could never leave her all alone.
