“I’m staying,” Nina cried. Her sobs shook her shoulders.
“But—” Mara started.
Jules pulled her to the side. “I’ve tried, Mara, but she won’t hear of leaving.”
“We need you with us at the palace to oversee security there,” she told him. “But then there wouldn’t be anyone here to see to her safety.”
“And the children are staying with me,” Nina added.
Mara’s eyes pleaded with Jules. “Let me talk to her. Please.”
He shrugged. “If you like.”
She approached Nina, then knelt at her side. She took one of her hands in her own. “Nina, listen—”
“I am not going!” She pulled free, took to her feet, stepped away, and then wiped her eyes. “I can’t believe any of you would even ask this of me. My child is in the hands of that monster!” She breathed in heavy gasps. “Haven’t I lost enough to him already? Three of my own children, all those years ago? And then I almost lost Calandra when his men invaded the compound. When does it stop? Huh? How much is enough?” Shaking her head, she moaned. “Oh, why would Ehyeh do this—”
“Ehyeh did not do this,” Mara whispered.
“Right,” Nina snapped. “As you are so fond of saying: ‘He has but allowed it.’” She turned away. “How could you understand anyway? You’ve never had one of your own.” She glanced back, her eyes glaring. “You have no idea what I’m suffering.”
Mara bowed her head and looked at the floor. Nina had hit on a subject that had caused her some pain of late. She’d spent her entire adult life raising the children of another, never to have had her own. Fortunately, her attendant magic provided for her continued youth, so she certainly could have a child . . . But, no. She couldn’t allow for that. The risks were too great. So, with Lucy’s assistance—and a daily cup of barrenseed tea—she’d remained childless all these years. Sure, there were times she wished she could see her own—Dixon’s own—child in her arms, but she felt that would inhibit her ability to honor her oath for the twins’ safety. In the end, it was better to leave well enough alone.
Tears welled in her eyes. She tried to hold them back as she rose to her feet. She approached her long-time friend and cohort. “You’re right, Nina,” she said, reaching for her.
Nina pulled away.
Mara followed. She took Nina’s hands in her own. “You’re right. I don’t know what you’re feeling. But I do know this: we can’t afford to lose Jules. We need his expertise. And I know that you don’t want harm to come to the twins any more than I do. You love them like your own. I know you do. And you know that we can’t afford to leave you here with Caden and Calandra without protection. Most of all, though, I don’t want to see your family divided.”
“So what’s good for you others, is good for me. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
Mara looked down. “No, Nina, it’s not.” She looked back up. “I can’t even begin to understand the pain you’re going through.” She bit her lip. “Listen, I know it’s no consolation, but you thought you’d lost her. Now you know—”
“Don’t you dare!” Nina seethed. “Don’t you dare try to tell me that ‘all is well’ since she still lives. She is in Chiran. She is a slave. Can’t you understand what I’m saying? If she manages to break free, she’ll come here looking for us—looking for me! I have to be here.” She glanced her husband’s way and scowled. “And Jules belongs here. With me. With his children.”
Wincing, he approached.
Mara turned to him. “Please, may I have just one more minute with her . . . alone?”
Sighing, he turned away and then stepped outside.
“I need to talk to you, Nina.”
“Just go, Mara. Haven’t I done enough for you over the years?”
Her words stabbed at Mara’s heart. She cringed at the sound of them and then, swallowing hard, directed her friend toward two nearby chairs.
“Nina—”
“Don’t even try, Mara.”
“Please, hear me out.” She clasped her hand. “Let me set out my plan, and then you can respond.”
Clenching her jaw, Nina sat, glaring.
Mara looked down at their hands, once again, interwoven. She looked back up, “Our lives have been . . . connected for many years,” she said.
After pulling her hand free, Nina folded her arms. She looked away, said nothing.
“I know of your sacrifices, although as you are so right in saying, I’ve never had to experience them for myself. I want to make it right for you, but I also want to do what’s right for all of us—”
Nina glanced back and opened her mouth to speak.
“And for all of you,” Mara quickly added. “So, I’ve a proposal. We’ll leave a couple Oathtakers who are without charges here, at the compound, in the event Carlie makes her way back here. Then we’ll send a couple more back into Chiran to see if they can find out where the Chiranians are keeping her, and hopefully, to bring her back to you.”
“But, of course, you wouldn’t dream of going yourself,” Nina spat, shaking her head. “No, that would be too much to ask,” she muttered.
Mara grimaced. “I would go myself, but it’s no place for a woman. I know that thought doesn’t make any of this any easier for you. You are right to worry for Carlie and to insist that we do what we can for her—and we will.”
Nina closed her eyes.
“Please, Nina, for all of us. We need you and Jules—and he needs you and your children. And I know that you’re angry and hurt—and you’ve every right to be—but the twins need you, too. Don’t you see?”
“Hah!”
Nina sat quietly for a minute. Finally, she asked, “So, who would you send?”
Mara shrugged. “I don’t know. Truthfully, I wish Marshall and Jerrett could return, as they already know how things work there. But I don’t want to divide Jerrett’s family again, particularly so soon after he’s just returned. And as for Marshall . . . Well, he would be in considerable danger there.” She paused, in thought. “In any case, we’ll figure it out. I’ll bring it up at the meeting tonight after the ceremony for Saga.”
Nina stood and paced. Finally, she sighed deeply, and turned back. “I liked her,” she said. “Saga, I mean. What happened to her?”
Mara’s shoulders slumped. “Ahhh . . . magic. Magic happened to her.”
Nina’s eyes narrowed. “Magic?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, that’s all I can say. But we’ve been together too long for me to keep this truth from you. It was a terrible, terrible accident. So, I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourself.”
A knock came at the door. Mara turned as Dixon entered. He held her gaze for a long moment.
Finally, she turned back Nina’s way. “What do you say, then? Are we in agreement?”
“Very well.”
The compound residents all gathered in the sanctuary they’d build years back, to offer their “farewells” to Saga. Not a few eyes shed great tears. Although she’d only been with the group for a short period, she’d made fast friends with a number of them. Still, it was the old-timers, Leala and Fidel, who clearly suffered the greatest loss with her death.
When the ceremony was over, they all made their way to the burial grounds. Fortunately, they’d not had occasion to see many of their own off over the past two decades, so only a few headstones dotted the earth. Sadly, today, they would add another.
Dalton and his charge, Declan, along with Farrell and his charge, Ellian, lowered her body into the ground.
Reigna, tears running down her face, stood in the back with Eden. When she turned toward Lucy, who, standing nearby, held her arms out to her, she stepped up to accept the woman’s embrace.
“I feel so responsible,” she muttered.
Lucy squeezed her tightly, then loosened her hold. She held Reigna’s gaze as she shook her head. “No, child,” she said, “it’s me who should be sorry. I failed to share critical details with you before it was too late.”
“I don’t want this power, Lucy,” she whispered.
“I know. For what it’s worth, those things that are the greatest blessings to us, can also sometimes be the greatest curses. You know, I was just telling Mara that earlier today.”
Eden, listening in, neared. “What curses are you talking about?”
Lucy smiled at her, wanly. “Mmmm . . . nothing, in particular. Just know that I appreciate the difficulties your powers are likely to impose on you two.”
Reigna embraced her once more. “You know, Lucy, you’ve . . . changed,” she said.
She pulled back. “Have I?”
“Yes. Since we returned here, you seem . . . I don’t know . . . more—”
“Introspective?” she offered.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Perhaps I am. Which just goes to show you that one is never too old to learn—and for the record, you two played no small part in reminding me of that. Thank you.” She released Reigna. “Then again, it is equally true that you’ve changed since your journey and your testing in The Tearless.”
“Have I?”
“You both have. You’ve . . . grown up.” She squeezed Reigna’s hand. After releasing her, she directed the residents to the dining hall. There, she told them, they’d hold their last meeting at the compound while enjoying one of Adele’s famous meals.
They made their way to the hall. Inside, it smelled of herbs and spices, fresh bread, and chicken grilled on an open fire.
Reigna and Eden sat at a table with Mara and Dixon, along with Jerrett and Velia, Jules and Nina, and Lucy. Before long, they’d all nearly eaten their fill. Even so, they expected Adele would arrive shortly with assorted sweets to finish off the refection.
Mara took another bite of her food. “You know,” she said, “one of the best things that happened to us all those years ago when we sought a place of safety for you girls,” she nodded at the twins, “was when Adele got caught up in my magic and accidentally ended up traveling with me and joining our little company.” She chuckled.
Jerrett grinned at her. “What brought that up?”
“Well, honestly, I mean— Where does she come up with these ideas?” She gestured with her fork at her plate.
“What have you got there?” Dixon asked her.
“Some kind of . . . I don’t know. Adele topped this crunchy bread with a mixture of a soft, creamy, almost fruity cheese, chopped basil and scallions, sun-dried tomatoes, salty olives, and garlic. Then she grilled it.” She took another bite. “And if I had to guess,” she added, her mouth still full, “I’d say there’s a bit of lemon zest in it.” She moaned. “Gracious Ehyeh, I think I’ve died myself and moved on.”
Eden laughed. “I love her cooking. Trust me, Mara, when I say that Reigna and I greatly appreciated that venison you brought to us when we were in The Tearless, but honestly, I’ll take Adele’s home cooking any day!”
Her sister nudged her. “You’ll get no argument here.”
Lucy pushed her chair back. “Well, we’d best get things started,” she said. Then she made her way to the front of the room as she called out, “May I have your attention everyone?”
Slowly, the din died down.
“Of course, I expect Reigna and Eden will be handling matters going forward, but I wanted to take a minute to thank you all for the great work you’ve done in preparing things here so quickly in anticipation of our trip to Shimeron. Your attention to detail is most appreciated. At this time, there’s not much left to do, although I understand that Adele could use some assistance in packing up the rest of the kitchen this evening.”
She glanced about. “For now, given Saga’s death,” she said, her eyes flickering in Reigna’s direction, “all I’ve got left, is to finish going through some books. One way or another though, I’ll finish that up tonight so that we can be on our way first thing in the morning. If any of you would like to assist me, I won’t turn you away.” Again, she looked to the twins. “Would you two like to take it from here?” she asked them.
The sisters rose. Then, with Mara between them, they made their way to the front of the room.
Reigna spoke first. “Actually, Eden and I don’t have anything for now, but Mara has a request she’d like to make,” she said.
“Yes, thank you.” She faced the crowd. “There are a couple of things that have come up, with which we need your help. First, we’ve decided to leave a small group behind—here at the compound—in the event that Carlie escapes from Chiran and finds her way back. Are there any volunteers?”
A few Oathtakers raised their hands.
“Very well, Georgiana, thank you. I’ll feel better knowing there’s a healer here. And thank you too, Macall,” she added turning to the other volunteer before glancing back at Nina. “Will that be acceptable to you?”
As she nodded, Jules reached for her hand.
“Second,” Mara said, once again addressing the crowd, “I’d like to send a couple Oathtakers into Chiran again.”
“What’s this about?” Lucy asked, sitting up straighter.
“Suffice it to say, it’s necessary.”
“Honestly,” Jerrett spoke up, “I don’t recommend it.”
“Nor do I,” Marshall added.
Chaya, to his right, whispered something to him. When he nodded, she raised her hand.
“Yes?” Eden responded.
“May I speak?”
“Certainly. This is an open forum.”
She cleared her throat. “Then I must say that I highly recommend against that plan.”
“Excuse me?” Nina said as she got to her feet. “You’ve no—”
“Hold on, Nina,” Mara said, “let’s hear her out.”
Nina glared at her, then turned back to Chaya. “Fine, then. What is it?”
“It’s just that they’re such . . . barbarians,” Chaya said. “Honestly, I don’t think—”
“You think I don’t know that?” Nina cried. “I’ve been a victim of their savagery—their brutality. And now they have our daughter!”
“I understand, but—”
“No. Someone needs to go for her, or . . . or I’ll go in search of her myself!” As Nina spoke, she glared at Mara, as though defying her to rise to the challenge of taking a trip to Chiran.
Jules, now standing at her side, encouraged her to take back to her seat.
Chaya bit her lip. “I understand,” she said. “I’m sorry for interrupting.”
“That’s quite all right,” Mara said. “You should always feel free to share your thoughts in these meetings. We don’t all agree on everything, every time, but we value one another’s opinions.” She looked the group over. “Are there any volunteers then?”
Marshall raised his hand.
Chaya shook her head at him and whispered, “You can’t go back there. You know what it would mean. Besides, I can’t do this without you. I need you.”
He turned her way, his brow furrowed.
“She’s right, my friend, you can’t go,” Jerrett said to him. “If you’re caught there and they discover you’re responsible for Cark’s death . . .” He glanced back at Mara. “I suppose I could go,” he said.
“No,” Jules said to him, “you’ve done your turn there.”
Nina scowled at her husband.
“It’s all right,” he told her. “We’ll find someone.”
“We’ll go,” said someone sitting in the back of the room.
Mara looked up. “Thank you, Liam. And you too, Rafal. I suggest you meet with Marshall and Jerrett to learn what you can before you set out.” She paused, tapping her fingertips together. “Now, as you all know, once the twins gained Ehyeh’s favor, a few things changed—not the least of which is that any current or former Oathtaker to a seventh of the Select now has the same attendant magic power to travel that I have—although with only a single additional person at a time. So, tomorrow morning, the twins and I will oversee things here while Lucy and Dixon take Liam and Rafal to see Ezra.”
She turned to the volunteers. “It won’t take you long to get to Chiran from there.” Then, glancing at Nina, she asked, “Will that be acceptable to you?”
Her lips pursed, her arms folded, Nina tipped her head, signifying her agreement.
Lucy stood. “Liam,” she said, nodding his direction, and then “Rafal,” she added, turning to his companion, “I’ve been working on a trinket you can use to communicate with us.”
She approached them, then handed Liam a case. Similar in appearance to the compact that she’d created years ago, and that any Oathtaker to a seventh of the Select could use to send messages back and forth, it was a small, silver thing.
“A compact,” Liam said, grinning. “Won’t this be rather odd for two men to carry?”
“Open it,” Lucy said.
He did. “Ahhh, a compass,” he said.
“Yes, but it works the same as the compact—except of course, that you won’t be able to see the person with whom you communicate. As with the compact, you just open it and voice your message. Then I’ll retrieve it from my compact when I can.” She frowned. “I’m sorry. I know the flits can get word back and forth between us, but as they require travel time, their communications are not quite as ‘instant’ as I’d like. So this, I’m afraid, is the best I can do considering that neither of you ever had a seventh for your charge.”
“It’ll work,” Rafal said.
“Very well then,” Mara said, once again addressing the crowd, “this meeting is adjourned. Now, let’s all plan to get an early start come morning. Fall is already well upon us, and our goal is to reach the palace before winter sets in with a fury.”
As Bane howled in the distance, Mara, standing on the porch of the cabin she shared with Dixon and the twins, watched the second moon rise. Its light emphasized the cloud cover moving into the area. Likely, it would rain overnight.
Dixon approached from behind, then wrapped his arms around her.
Melting in his embrace, she breathed in his scent of cedar and leather.
“It’s good to be home,” he said, his mouth to her ear.
“Yes.” She turned to face him. “Just in time to leave again.”
He kissed her, slowly, sweetly. Then, “What was all that with Nina?” he asked.
Mara explained the conditions Nina set before she’d leave the compound. “She said I didn’t understand—that I couldn’t understand—because I’ve never had one of my own.” Tears sprang to her eyes.
Releasing his hold, then taking her hand, Dixon guided her to a chair. Sitting next to her, he patted out a rhythm on his thigh. “We’re in uncharted territory here, you know,” he said. “The rules provided a way for us to be together. They never said anything about children. You know that’s what I want.”
Nodding, she met his gaze, then said, “Shortly after the Council hearing, Lucy caught up with me.” When a tear rolled down her cheek, she brushed it away brusquely.
“Oh? Was there something she said that’s troubling you?”
Shrugging, she frowned. “She handed me a packet of barrenseed tea, telling me that she thought I might be needing it. And more recently, she reminded me that I can’t go on using it forever. Soon, its effects will be . . . irreversible.” She choked back a cry.
He got on his knees before her. “Mara, you know I want a child, too.” He took her hands. “I say we should do it.”
She sighed. “Dixon, it’s not the right time. I mean—”
“It will never be the right time. Let’s face it, there’s always—”
“No, I mean with Zarek about to invade . . . I think we have to beat back this threat first.”
He sat back down, then resumed patting out a rhythm. “I understand.”
She reached for his hand. “I know it’s what you want, Dixon—and I do too. But these are very dangerous times. It’s one thing to think of protecting the twins now that they’re grown, but quite another to think of protecting an infant. I’m . . .” She looked in his eyes.
“Afraid?”
“Yes.” She stood and then, still facing him, leaned against the deck railing. “But I’m equally afraid that soon, I’ll have no—” Looking down, she paused. “Well, it’s one thing to choose not to have a child for a time, it’s quite another to have no say in the matter.” A shiver ran through her.
Dixon approached. He took his cape and draped it over her shoulders, then took her hand. “I wish I could take on that burden, but to date, Lucy’s found nothing that would work.” He sighed. “Aren’t there any other options for us?”
“Lucy says the others would be even more dangerous to my health—with the possible exception of using a cassus tincture, but . . .” Pausing, she pulled the cape more tightly around her shoulders.
“But what? Maybe we should try that for a time.”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just . . . can’t bring myself to do it.”
“Why?”
She wrung her hands. “Because Lucy says she doesn’t know if it prevents pregnancy, or if it actually acts as an abortifacient.” She held his gaze. “I— I can’t do that.”
With his thumb, Dixon wiped away a tear slipping down her cheek. Then he gathered her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I understand. Truly, I do.”
He pulled back, then tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “The truth is that I have all I’ve ever needed. I’d love for us to have a child, but if it’s not to be, then at least I’ll get to spend my days knowing that I got the one thing that was the most important to me.” Drawing her closer again, he said, “I got you.” Again, he kissed the top of her head.
“You know, when I thought I couldn’t be with you all those years ago, when you nearly sent me away—I thought my heart would break. Then, when you were injured and didn’t even know who I was, I thought I’d lost you all over again.”
Once again, he pulled back to look at her.
Her eyes met his.
“Truly, Mara, all I need is you.”
She sat up with a start, ramrod straight. Her breath caught in her throat. Her hand to her chest, she breathed in and out in short, quick gasps.
Dixon stirred at her side. He opened his eyes and then, with the bedding rustling beneath him, reached for her. He rubbed her arm. “Are you all right?”
She covered her face with her hands, and took in a deep breath. “Y—yes.”
He sat up. “What is it?”
“Just a nightmare.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“I—”
“You’re shaking. Come on now, tell me. It’ll take away its power.”
“Right.” She inhaled deeply and then exhaled slowly. “Well, it was strange. It was like I was dreaming that I was someone else.”
“Who?”
“Rowena.”
He pulled back. “Oh? What happened?”
She bit her lip. Then, “It was . . . odd,” she said, “but so real. It was almost like it happened and I was re-living it.”
He took her hand.
“I dreamed that I was carrying the twins and that some grut chased us. I was so afraid I’d lose them and—” She fought back a sob.
“Mara, it was just a nightmare. Rowena died when they were born. You know that. She never carried the twins and ran from the grut. They didn’t show up until she was already in the wayfarers’ hut where I left her. And besides—”
“No, when I said I was ‘carrying’ them, I mean that I was— You know.” She patted her abdomen. “Carrying them. I was pregnant with them.”
“Ahhh, I see.” There was a smile in his voice.
“What?”
“We were talking of children earlier. It seems your dreams took that into account.”
“But I was so afraid I’d lose them.”
He rubbed her back. “What happened?”
“The grut chased me. I ran through the forest. Branches reached out and snagged at me, as though trying to hold me back. Then I saw a place of refuge—like the wayfarers’ hut where Rowena birthed the twins.” She shook her head and closed her eyes, struggling to recollect further details.
“Then what?”
“Then, I—” She turned to him with tear-filled eyes that sparkled in the scant moonlight coming in through the window. “I had these pains—these contractions, I guess they were. The next thing, I saw blood—lots and lots of it. It was what happened to Rowena, you know. Anyway, that’s when I awakened.”
“Shhhh . . . Shhhh, now.” He put his arms around her. “You’re fine. You’re safe. The twins are safe.”
“All that blood, Dixon,” she said, shuddering.
“You’re all safe,” he repeated.
“I don’t think I ever really considered things from Rowena’s perspective. How awful for her.”
“Yes,” he agreed. As he rubbed her back again, her breathing slowly returned to normal.
“Come on now,” he said, patting her pillow.
When she was comfortable, he stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep now,” he said as he snuggled around her and held her closely.