CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

WAS IT WORTH IT?” CONNOR WATCHED PENHALLOW unwrap the Elgin Spike from its shrouding. He noted that Penhallow was careful not to touch the artifact. The Wraith Lord’s translucent form stood nearby, observing with interest. Arin Grimur, who had returned with them from Edgeland, hung back, watching. Tormod Solveig had joined them as well, journeying to Westbain with a portion of his troops while Rinka took the rest of the army north to join Niklas and Blaine against Nagok.

“It gives us a chance we wouldn’t otherwise have,” Penhallow said. “And that’s something important.” He turned toward Grimur. “Thank you, Arin, for what it’s cost you to keep this safe all these years.”

Grimur shrugged. “The solitude did me good. And I didn’t mind the snow. I’ll be happy to not have the White Nights, but I might go back for the Long Dark. My cabin’s locked up tight, waiting for me.”

Connor shivered just thinking about it. Two visits to Edgeland in one lifetime are too many, he thought. “I hate to say it, but getting the artifact might have been the easy part in all this,” Connor observed. “How is someone going to get close enough to Thrane to use it?”

“I’ll admit that’s a difficulty,” Penhallow said. “We expected Thrane to attack the allied Elders. So far, he’s used proxies to do it, without putting himself at risk.”

“That’s not surprising, given that it’s Thrane, but it does make our job harder,” the Wraith Lord replied.

“Do you have a plan?” Grimur asked.

“We’re working on it,” Penhallow replied. “There are… variables.”

“Best we figure out something soon,” the Wraith Lord warned. “Too many mortals are disappearing—presumably to provide food for Reese to recover—and we’ll be facing a mob with torches if we don’t bring an end to it quickly.”

Outside, a thunderstorm raged, driving rain against the windows, wind howling through the shutters. “What’s the next step?” Connor asked.

“Nidhud has gone back to brief Dolan and the rest of the Knights of Esthrane on Thrane’s latest moves, and what we know about Nagok,” Penhallow replied. “We’re certain Nagok is one of Thrane’s puppets. I expect Nidhud to return tomorrow night with Dolan and an updated battle plan.”

“Is Nagok as fearsome as his reputation?” Connor asked.

Grimur shrugged. “He’s a beast caller. That’s a rare magic. I haven’t seen a powerful beast caller in over a century.”

“Longer than that,” the Wraith Lord said, frowning as he thought. “And powerful—but not invincible. In some ways, I would argue that when mages are especially powerful in one area, they are more limited in others.”

“I agree.” Grimur nodded. “A beast caller’s real strength is surprise. Calling down a pack of wolves or a flock of birds and forcing them to attack creates panic. In some ways, it’s more unsettling for nature to turn on an army than for them to face ghosts or even animated corpses.”

“How can we turn his limits against him?” Connor asked. “And are there ways we can make his strengths of less impact?”

“I believe that’s where I come in,” Tormod Solveig said. “The question is, how can I use my necromancy against Thrane and Reese without causing problems for our allied talishte?”

“It can be done,” Grimur said. “Your power as a necromancer only affects our kind during daylight. So you—and Connor—could make the first strike against the mortal soldiers and at least some of Thrane’s brood before dark.”

“After dark, once the talishte awaken, I can offer other magic as well as my sword, but I agree that I’m best used before dark,” Tormod replied.

“Mages always face a threefold limit,” Grimur replied. “Range, duration, and intensity. So Nagok is not invincible.”

“I’ve got watchers with Niklas Theilsson’s troops,” Penhallow said. “We should be getting a report from them in a day or so. If we watch for patterns in how Nagok uses his power in battle, we’ll know his limitations.”

“Nagok is not our immediate problem,” the Wraith Lord said. “It’s Thrane we need to worry about. He’s never been reticent about making fledglings, and he’s had a long existence in which to make them. The rogue Elders also tended to have larger broods, with fewer compunctions about turning—or killing—mortals. That puts us at something of a disadvantage.”

“Perhaps,” Penhallow said. “On the other hand, I’ve fought some of their brood, and they did not make wise choices on those they turned. Loyalty only counts for so much. Intelligence, initiative, creativity—that’s what turns the tide in a battle.”

“We’ve got to protect our people,” the Wraith Lord said. “That last attack of Thrane’s cost us a dozen talishte. The allied Elders are concerned.”

“So how do we stop Thrane?” Connor asked.

“We get him to overextend himself,” the Wraith Lord replied. “That’s one of the things that led to his downfall, long ago.”

“How do we get him to do that? Surely his defeat taught him not to repeat the same mistake,” Tormod said.

Penhallow’s smile was sad. “Talishte were once human, Tormod. How often do mortals make the same mistake again and again?”

“I had hoped that learning might come with a long existence,” Connor replied.

“Sadly, not as often as you might expect,” Grimur said. “Thrane is as grandiose as ever, and as willing to allow others to die for his grand schemes. Witness his current path. Donderath is a blank canvas. There is plenty of room for him to carve out a territory for himself, rule it as a lord. If he dealt humanely with the mortals, he would be left alone. But of course, he wants to rule it all.”

“Rule a wasteland, after the fighting is done,” Connor muttered. “But how can you even get close to him? He’s surrounded by his brood, and Reese’s brood.”

“We take the battle to him,” the Wraith Lord said with a predatory smile.

The next evening, Westbain’s great hall was crowded with talishte. Nidhud and Dolan, as well as several of the other Knights of Esthrane, stood at the end of the long table along with Penhallow. While the Wraith Lord could make himself seen and heard for a limited time without Connor’s help, to address the gathering of allied Elders, he had asked to use Connor’s body for greater physical presence.

For once, Connor did not mind. I’d rather be possessed by an ancient talishte-mage in a room of talishte than be a mere mortal. Sheep among wolves and all that.

If you are a sheep, then it is a sheep with fangs, claws, and a remarkable survival instinct, the Wraith Lord replied silently, drifting off into a baritone chuckle. You are hardly a ‘mere’ mortal.

All of the allied Elders with the exception of Bayard were there. Aldwin Carlisle, Garrick Dalton, and Marin Jarett stood together near one wall holding half-empty goblets of deer blood, watching Nidhud and Dolan skeptically. Dag Marlief—Onyx—had been destroyed in the attack that freed Reese.

“Our plan to destroy Thrane involves using ourselves as bait,” General Dolan said. Tonight both he and Nidhud wore the full regalia of the Knights of Esthrane, and Connor was certain it was to evoke the memory both of the Knights’ legendary prowess as warriors and their uncanny level of success, a reputation that had once led mortal kings to banish them as a threat.

“Thrane is certain of his superiority. And if we allow him to choose the time and place of his strikes, he has the upper hand,” Dolan continued. “He has amassed an army, and he’s itching to use it. So we’ll be his targets, one way or the other. But if we present opportunities that appear too good to pass up yet are carefully managed to provide us the advantage, then we’ll either decimate his troops or sour his allies.”

“Why should he go after us more than once?” Carlisle asked, swirling the blood in his goblet. “Surely after the first loss, he’ll realize that the game is rigged against him.”

Dolan nodded. “That’s why the opportunities must be offered close together, so that he must choose ‘and’ and not ‘or’ without time to evaluate between. They must appear logical, and we must appear to take reasonable precautions. And we must move in utter secrecy.” He paused. “I believe we have traitors among the broods.”

A babble of voices strenuously objected. Dolan raised his hand for silence, and acknowledged Garrick Dalton. “Our broods are bound to us by the kruvgaldur,” Dalton protested. “How can there be traitors?”

“The kruvgaldur is strongest with the get you made directly and the mortals whom you have bound most deeply,” the Wraith Lord replied through Connor. “It remains strong between maker and fledge, but each generation weakens the strength of the bond back to you. Past the third generation, it is unreliable as a means of forewarning, and limited as a means of control, best mostly for surveillance. That is even truer for the bond between you and the human servants of your get.”

“The kruvgaldur is strongest for urgent needs, life-or-death warnings,” Dolan replied. “But we have all heard of progeny that found ways to destroy their makers. For disloyalty, the kruvgaldur is a lazy bond. It must be actively monitored—preferably by reading the blood—in order to fully know the intent of one’s get. How many of you read your broods individually on a regular basis? How many have ever read the get of your get? Their servants?”

Reluctantly, the former Elders shook their heads. “That is why we insisted that tonight’s meeting be among our inner circle,” the Wraith Lord said.

“You have your human servant,” Jarett said petulantly.

The Wraith Lord fixed him with a glare. “And I am inhabiting his mind and his body. Can you do the same?” Annoyed, the talishte looked away.

“We will arm you,” the Wraith Lord continued. “Each of you will be given a destination. We fully expect you to be attacked, either on the route or when you reach where you’re going. You and your direct get will know of the ruse—and you must blood-read them to ensure their loyalty,” the Wraith Lord said.

“Half of your brood will go with you, half will remain with the loyal get,” Dolan continued. “Those who go are the bait. Those who remain will be the strike force. I will leave it to you to decide which half you personally wish to be in, but Thrane’s men should see a mix of Elders staying and going.”

“And the traitor? What about finding him?” Carlisle asked with a set of the jaw that told Connor he meant to deal permanently with that problem.

“You are to do nothing to find the traitor, or even acknowledge outside this room that there is a traitor,” Dolan said. “If we do anything at this point to root out the disloyal ones, Thrane will know and our ruse won’t work. We’ll know soon enough who the untrustworthy ones are. And when they show themselves, you may deal with them as you see fit.”

“All well and good that we draw off the rogue Elders and their broods,” Dalton said. “But what of Thrane?”

Nidhud nodded. “A small team will go after Thrane and Reese. We’ve chosen talishte with the skills we believe can defeat him. He’ll have minimal mortal support to use against us here, at Rodestead House and at Mirdalur.”

“I’ve dispatched Geir to warn Niklas Theilsson and Blaine McFadden, along with Traher Voss,” Dolan said. “Pollard and Hennoch will find quite a few talishte from our broods waiting, along with Penhallow’s soldiers and several mages. It won’t be the rout he expects, and in the meantime, Theilsson and McFadden will bring their army against Nagok, while Pollard and Hennoch are engaged a few days’ ride distant.”

“Nagok also has talishte at his disposal,” Jarrett pointed out.

“Nagok is Thrane’s man,” Penhallow said. “The talishte that support him are Thrane’s get, except for Aubergine. Destroy Thrane, and we destroy their only reason to be loyal to Nagok.”

I notice you’re not mentioning the Elgin Spike, Connor observed silently.

No, we’re not. We’re not going to remind them of it. The less said, the better, the Wraith Lord replied in his mind. Also why Grimur is keeping to his rooms, since his presence would be a reminder.

“Your plan is full of uncertainties,” Carlisle said. “It’s risky.”

Dolan nodded. “All battle plans are,” he acknowledged. “But we believe that a concerted, multifront strike against Thrane’s allies and Thrane and Reese themselves will prevail.” He paused and looked around the room at the talishte assembled there. Once again, Connor was very aware of being the lone mortal in a room full of ancient predators.

“I cannot emphasize how important it is that this initial strike be successful,” Dolan said. “Right now, Thrane is arrogant. He’s sure that we’re too disorganized to rise against him, and that his plans are too clever for us to comprehend. He doesn’t know the full scope of the resources at our command. If we attempt this strike and fail, Thrane won’t present such an easy target again. We may lose our chance to win, and the cost will be dear indeed.”

The next two candlemarks were spent hammering out the details, as the former Elders asked a seemingly endless series of questions, some pertinent, some not. Dolan, Nidhud, Penhallow, and the Wraith Lord answered with more patience than Connor could muster, doing their best to win over the headstrong Elders and gain their full cooperation.

“I’ve taken the liberty of placing a geas upon everyone in this room,” the Wraith Lord said, and there was an audible rustling as all those present turned to stare at Connor. “For all our safety, I have insisted that what has been discussed here not be mentioned to any but the intended partners.”

“You have no right—” Jarett said, a flush coming to her face.

“He has every right,” Carlisle said. “Kierken is correct. We all stand to lose everything if someone among us speaks of our plans too widely. And while I would like to believe that all of my former Elder Council fellows understand discretion, I fear that too often in the past, we have learned of council business shared indelicately.”

Everyone in the room avoided looking at Dalton. The talishte had gone rigid and particularly pale, and Connor wondered if this was an old matter and a sore subject. Dalton knows why I’ve done such a thing, the Wraith Lord commented to Connor. And while neither he nor the others like it, they understand the consequences.

“We’ll see if Thrane takes your bait,” Jarett said. “If not, then it’s time we took matters into our own hands.” One by one, the Elders filed out, disappearing into the night.

Thank you for your service, the Wraith Lord said. I will depart. And with that, Connor shuddered and felt Kierken Vandholt’s spirit leave him.

Connor sagged against the table. He took a deep breath and straightened. “When you form your strike force to go against Thrane, I’m going with you.”

“Absolutely not,” Penhallow and the Wraith Lord said in unison.

Connor raised an eyebrow. “It makes no sense to leave me behind. Without me, you lack the full power of a mage and a fighter, as well as the physical prowess of a talishte who is older than Thrane.”

“Even with me in possession, you are not full talishte in strength or immortality,” the Wraith Lord said. “You are not quite as fast, nor can you fly.”

“Neither can you,” Connor observed.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Penhallow said. “You’re too valuable an asset to me. Thrane would see you as a weak point, use you against us.”

“Factor that into the plan,” Connor said, raising his chin defiantly. “He knows the Wraith Lord can possess me, but he was dismissive of it back at Lundmyhre. He hasn’t seen us fight together, and I bet he doesn’t know that the Wraith Lord’s magic is enhanced when he’s got a body to use.”

“I cannot sanction this,” the Wraith Lord said.

“Yet he has a very good point,” Dolan remarked. The Wraith Lord’s spirit turned to glower at the Knight of Esthrane, and Penhallow’s expression made it clear that Dolan’s remark was unwelcome. “With his help, we nearly have Kierken Vandholt at his full power,” Dolan continued. “It’s likely to take all of us, at full strength, to defeat Thrane and the rogue Elders, not to mention Nagok. I fear that in this, there is no real choice if you wish to win.”

“Connor, there will be many talishte that don’t survive these battles,” Penhallow said. “It is very likely that you could be injured too badly for us to heal you. You don’t have to do this.”

“I’ve come this far,” Connor said. “I’ve seen what the Wraith Lord can do through me. And if Thrane and Nagok win, I have to live with the consequences, in a Donderath I don’t want to see exist. I have a great deal at stake as Bevin Connor, aside from talishte and spirits and Elders. This is my kingdom, too. And if I were not in Lord Penhallow’s service, I would be fighting with Blaine McFadden’s army.” He crossed his arms, as if daring them to disagree.

The Wraith Lord chuckled. “I have the distinct impression, Lanyon, that if he could, he might run off and enlist, just to make his point.” His tone was a mixture of respect and fond indulgence. “Once again, you never cease to amaze me, Bevin.”

Penhallow looked as if he would have let out a long sigh, had he needed to breathe. “I fear he has a good point, and it is well taken. Very well. But,” he said, his tone growing stern, “I do not consider you to be expendable. Kierken will do his best to protect you, but I also expect that you will take good care, under orders of your master, to come back alive and in one piece.”

Connor inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Agreed, m’lords. And I am most definitely intending to come back from this.” Unbidden, the warning he had received from Garnoc in his delirium echoed in his mind, and he forced it away. I’ve always known this could cost me my life. At least if it does, I’ll have done something that mattered. He felt a mixture of excitement and nervous nausea. “Now, what about that plan?”

Connor found Zaryae sitting on the garden terrace when he left the strategy meeting. “I’m late,” he said. “I was afraid you wouldn’t wait.”

Zaryae smiled and took his hand. “I figured you would find me one way or another when you were done. Westbain’s not that large.”

Connor sat down next to Zaryae on the stone bench and she rested her head on his shoulder. Their friendship had become more than that on the long journey back from Edgeland, and Connor was grateful for her company. It means a lot that we both understand how it is to live with a magical gift that can be more of a curse. I can’t imagine trying to explain it to someone who hadn’t experienced magic of their own.

“Are the plans set?” she asked.

Connor nodded. “As much as plans ever are.” He looked out onto the moonlit gardens. Before the Meroven War, Westbain had belonged to Vedran Pollard. Penhallow had seized it, partly in retribution for Pollard’s men having burned Penhallow’s day crypt. Though Westbain had not suffered as much damage as the manors belonging to Lords of the Blood, the Great Fire and the Conflagration had gone hard on the old home and its lands.

The gardens were overgrown, burned in places, while in other spots, large trees and bushes had been torn up by the roots. Still, with a little imagination Connor could envision what it must have looked like in its prime. A ruined fountain stood empty in the center of what were once sculptured hedges. Gravel pathways led down toward banks that had been filled with flowers and now overflowed with weeds. At the far end was a weathered pergola that had somehow escaped the fire.

“Verran and the twins are packing to return to Glenreith—or to wherever Blaine’s army is now,” Zaryae said, looking down into the old gardens.

“Aren’t you going with them?” Connor asked, pulled out of his thoughts by her unexpected comment.

Zaryae shook her head. “I’m staying here. I want to help with the fight against Thrane. And I want to be with you.”

Connor squeezed her hand. “I want you near, but I want you safe even more,” he said.

She drew back and turned to look at him. “And where would I be safe? Glenreith? Maybe, but my foresight would be no use to the fight. Castle Reach? Mirdalur? Doubtful. Camping with Blaine’s army would be even more dangerous.” She paused. “There isn’t anywhere ‘safe’ where I can be of use. So I might as well be here.”

Connor bent down and kissed the top of her head. “There is a plan. I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t, and to be honest, it’s safer for you this way. Does your Sight tell you anything?” Connor asked.

Zaryae shook her head. “Not yet. It’s often silent when I want most to know something,” she added ruefully. She looked at him thoughtfully. “You’re planning to go with them, aren’t you?”

Connor sighed. “Yes. Penhallow argued against it, but even he had to see the wisdom of it. My gut tells me that it is important that I be there.”

“You’re still not talishte, even with the Wraith Lord’s help,” Zaryae warned. “And if you’re hurt too badly, Penhallow may have no choice except to turn you.”

“I know,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulder. “But they’re all risking their existence as well. And it won’t be worth living if Thrane and Nagok win and Vedran Pollard gains the throne. And if Nagok takes the throne of Meroven, how long before he decides to finish what he started and add Donderath to his empire? Thrane wouldn’t stop Nagok—he looks at everyone in Donderath as nothing more than food. If Blaine and Penhallow and their allies can’t win this, who else will try to stand against Thrane and Nagok? Maybe no one—at least, not in our lifetime.”

Zaryae sighed and snuggled next to him. “Enough of war. It will come soon enough. Tell me another story about how it was before the war. I never saw Castle Reach before it burned.”

For the two months they had been stuck aboard ship going to Edgeland and coming back, Connor and Zaryae had entertained each other with stories. Connor had already shared the unexpected adventure on the night of the Great Fire that sent him to Edgeland the first time and ended up with him in Penhallow’s service. Zaryae had recounted what had happened to the performing troupe she and the twins had traveled with from the Great Fire to when they met up with Blaine at Rikker’s Ferry.

Now that the big tales had been told, what remained were everyday stories, reminiscences about a world that was forever gone. And while Connor would not have considered those memories to be particularly noteworthy before the Cataclysm, they had become more precious among the ruins. Zaryae listened as Connor told a story about one of the war councils he had attended as Garnoc’s assistant. It struck Connor as he spoke that although all the people in his tale had been powerful and well-known before the Great Fire, he was the only one who had survived.

“Tell me a story I haven’t heard before,” Connor said when he finished his tale. “Something to take my mind off war.”

Zaryae chuckled. “I told you all my good stories on the ship.”

“Then tell me a bad story,” he said with a smile. She grew pensive and turned away.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Connor cajoled. How can I hold my own with ancient talishte and muddle it so awfully with a woman?

Not so difficult to fix, the Wraith Lord’s voice sounded in his mind. Get her talking. Find out what’s bothering her. Show her that you care no matter what she tells you.

I’m getting romantic advice from a thousand-year-old ghost?

Don’t discount the value of experience! the Wraith Lord said with a chuckle. And now I’ll leave you two to yourselves. She’s a good one, Connor. Don’t mess this up.

And with that, the Wraith Lord left him. Connor felt so totally out of his depth that he almost called Vandholt back. Then he drew a deep breath and laid a hand gently on Zaryae’s shoulder.

“I’m interested in any story you want to tell me,” Connor said. “Good or bad. I love you, Zaryae. Your stories are important to me.”

For a moment, he thought she would walk away, but then she moved to face him. “I guess you’ll hear it sooner or later, from the twins.” She hesitated again, then plunged ahead.

“We had to leave the Lesser Kingdoms and our tribe because of me,” she said finally. “My Gift. It was before I knew as much about how to use my ability. I was so young,” she added, shaking her head at the memory.

“My foresight came on me with my moon days,” she said with a blush. “At first, I would just blurt things out, things that I saw. People thought I was crazy. Then, when my predictions came true, they thought I was a witch. They were afraid. So were my parents.”

“They didn’t value what you could do?” Connor asked, taking her hand as he listened.

“They were scared of me,” she said quietly. “The gift of foresight isn’t unknown among my people. Some who have it become very powerful, tribal leaders, advisers to the king. But it’s not something you learn, or practice. One day it’s not there, and then next day—all of a sudden you’re ‘prophesying.’” She looked down at her hands. “It changed me in their eyes. I wasn’t their daughter anymore.”

Connor felt himself go cold with anger. “What did they do?”

“They sent me away,” Zaryae said without looking up. “To live with my uncle.”

“Illarion?” Connor asked. Zaryae nodded. Connor had met Illarion before the Battle of Valshoa. He had lost his life on the perilous journey into a hidden, guarded mountain pass.

“He was my mother’s brother. And he took me in, no questions asked, even though he had children of his own. Borya and Desya were his grandsons. Kata was his niece.”

She paused. “The four of us grew up like siblings. Sometimes, I could pretend that there had never been anything else, that they were my real family and I was their sister.”

“But something changed to make you go wandering,” Connor said.

Zaryae sighed. “Illarion taught me how to guide my gift, how to keep from blurting things out. For a while, that worked. And then I saw something so powerful I couldn’t help it. I foresaw the death of the wealthiest man in the city. It was a murder. I tried to warn him, but I was too late—and the magistrate thought I had something to do with it.”

She tightened her grip on his hands and looked at him with a fierce expression. “Illarion gave up everything for me, and so did my cousins. He assaulted the sheriff to free me, and we took off with just a couple of horses, a wagon, and all the goats and chickens we could carry, plus what he and the twins had been able to throw together on a moment’s notice.”

Zaryae was quiet for a moment, remembering. “We fled into the Western Plains. After a while, they stopped chasing us. But it was done. None of us could ever go back. Illarion had the idea to create a traveling performance group. The twins were excellent riders from herding the flocks. Kata had an amazing singing voice, and the two of us could dance.”

She blushed. “We were young enough and pretty enough that it didn’t really matter how well we danced, men would throw coins,” she admitted. “The twins learned to do some fancy acrobatic tricks. Illarion was our master of ceremonies, and back then, he could sing and play instruments as well. After a while, I learned to control my gift enough to be able to tell fortunes without saying too much.”

“You survived,” Connor said. “You made a way for yourself.”

Zaryae shrugged. “It was hard. Sometimes food was scarce if coin was lacking. We traded for some things and stole when we had to, or begged.” Her jaw set. “Illarion never let us down. He always found a way. He kept us together, and alive.”

Zaryae stared off at the dark garden for a moment. “We weren’t the only ones who left the Lesser Kingdoms,” she said quietly. “There were others, outcast for a variety of reasons. If they had a talent and they weren’t a danger, Illarion let them travel with us so long as they could provide for themselves. After a while, we traveled between the outposts in the Western Plains, holding our own little show. People would come from all around to see us. Word spread even to Donderath.”

“That’s how you came to play for Lord Corrender, right before the Great Fire,” Connor prompted.

Zaryae nodded. “We played at some of the small border towns, and then were invited to hold a show at the lesser cities. Somewhere in those backwater places, a person who knew Lord Corrender heard of us, and I guess he thought it would be great fun to have us perform for him. That’s how we were camped close enough to be in the path of the Great Fire,” she said, her voice going quiet.

“When it was over, Illarion, Borya, Desya, Kata, and I were the only ones who survived,” she added. “Borya and Desya—you know what happened to their eyes. Kata was so terrified by what she saw that night she never spoke again. My gift blasted wide open. Illarion lost his ability to play and sing, and the fire nearly killed him,” she said.

“And so you went back to wandering the Western Plains after the Cataclysm, playing for small towns, begging for coins,” Connor finished the story. “And that’s how you were in Rikker’s Ferry when Blaine found you.”

“Yes, and no,” she said. “We went to Rikker’s Ferry because it was a null spot, a place where magic didn’t work. We were trying to hide from the magic storms. We had run from them so often. We were tired,” she said. “I had a vision that a man would come to that town who needed us, and a warning for him. We had nearly given up by the time Blaine came.” She smiled. “But I knew he was the one for the vision as soon as I saw him in the audience.”

Connor slipped his arm around her, and this time she leaned against him. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for trusting me with your story.”

“Not as exciting as the stories you’ve shared about the adventures you’ve had with the Wraith Lord,” she said.

“Not nearly as funny as the stories you told me about chasing goats and chickens through rainstorms and performing your way out of a scrape with raiders,” Connor countered with a smile.

They were quiet for a while, looking out at the moon and the garden. Finally, Zaryae spoke. “What will you do, when it’s finally over?” she asked. “When the war ends. What will there be for you?”

Connor stared at the ruined hedgerow. “I haven’t really had much time to think about it,” he said. “It’s been rather slam-bang since the night of the Great Fire.” He let out a long breath. “I was Lord Garnoc’s man. He’s gone now. And for as long as I live, I’ll be Lord Penhallow’s man—and the Wraith Lord’s—because of the kruvgaldur. While I’m a Lord of the Blood, I don’t really know what that means for my future…” His thoughts spun, and he struggled to pull them together. “I’ve been so busy just surviving moment to moment, I haven’t really thought about ‘after.’ There wasn’t a reason to worry about it, before now,” he added, and gave her a squeeze. Zaryae smiled, and Connor held her close for a few moments.

“Assuming Penhallow survives, I suspect I could have a position with him for as long as I want it—for life, even,” Connor said. And thanks to the kruvgaldur, my life will be longer than usual, if I live through the war. “Blaine’s made it clear I’m welcome at Glenreith as well, and I’m grateful. But I think my place is here, or at Rodestead House, with Penhallow and the Wraith Lord.”

He turned to her. “I have to admit, both he and the Wraith Lord have grown on me, too.” He grinned. “Don’t tell them—it would go to their heads. But sadly, I’m not sure it matters. The odds are pretty high that I won’t come back from this one.”

Zaryae regarded him in silence for a moment, and sighed. “Bevin, my gift is silent on this. I wish I could tell you otherwise. Please promise me that you’ll do whatever you can to come back?”

“I’ll do my very best,” Connor replied.

Zaryae leaned forward and kissed him, long and lingering. She chuckled at the look of surprise on his face before he collected his wits and returned the kiss. When they finally pulled back, he was certain that he must look poleaxed with surprise.

“I know we don’t have any guarantees,” Zaryae murmured. “But we do have tonight to be together.”

“Zaryae… are you sure?”

“Bevin Connor, I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” Zaryae said as she stood. The moonlight shimmered on her skin as Zaryae let her dress drop to the ground. She reached forward, taking Connor by the hand and pulling him with her.

He moved to say something, and Zaryae put a finger to his lips. “I love you, Bevin. Nothing that happens is going to change that. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but we can make this night our own. Please, give me that.” He nodded, overwhelmed with emotion, and then words were no longer necessary.