my thoughts. “Ben? Ben!”
My head snapped toward him, and my eyes refocused on the table covered in charts and maps. I tried to recall what he had been explaining, and, failing at that, to guess, but as usual, all of Kor’s materials were an unintelligible scribble of lines, notes, and diagrams with no sort of organization any sane mind could follow.
Except his, of course.
“Did you hear anything I’ve said for the past five dek?” Kor snapped.
I hesitated a moment too long, meaning it was time to confess. “Er, no. Sorry.”
Kor groaned. “Ben, the girl is fine. You saw that for yourself not two deken ago. All she’s doing is sleeping off the healing right now.”
“What makes you think I was thinking about her?” I asked stiffly, pulling over one of Kor’s maps to try to make sense of the scribbles around the borders.
“Because you keep looking at the door every few seconds like it’s on fire. And not at this,” Kor said, pressing his finger firmly to the map under my hand. “Even though I’m trying to explain to you why I think the sungates are failing.”
“What?” I asked sharply, looking up at Kor.
“Finally! Now you’re—”
There was a knock on the study room door, and I was halfway across the room before the sound ended. I dimly heard Kor mutter behind me something about why he even bothered, but this time, I deliberately ignored him. The knock had given me the perfect distraction to put Kor off for just a bit longer until I could think of some way to dissuade him from pursuing his latest line of inquiry.
He was a good leftwing. Too good.
I pushed open the door to see Svyer standing outside the small room.
“Svyer,” I greeted her in relief.
“Ben,” she said with a sympathetic grin. “I thought Kor might have trapped you somewhere in the library.”
Behind me, there was a thump and the hissing, fluttering sound of papers going everywhere, accompanied by a muffled curse from Kor not a second later. I turned in surprise—holding the door open wide enough so Svyer could see too—to behold Kor scrambling to pick scattered papers off the floor, cheeks darkening further with a flush that I rarely, if ever, saw on him.
“Everything alright there, Korinth?” Svyer asked wryly.
“Fine,” Kor said, tersely enough that I blinked in surprise. No matter his circumstances or what he might be feeling on the inside, his default mode around females was suave. Yvera being the notable exception, of course.
And so it seemed…Svyer?
I filed that bit of information for later. I was going to need it.
In the meantime, though, I took pity on my leftwing by turning back to my cousin. “She’s awake?” I asked quietly.
Svyer nodded. “And fit for travel. I left her in her room, told her to eat.”
“Excellent,” I breathed. “Thank you. Kor, would you mind cleaning up and telling Yvera? I’ll get Sarah, and we can meet up at the landing.”
“Or I can bring Sarah,” Kor said, straightening with as much dignity as he could muster with an armful of shuffled papers. His eyes slid over Svyer before coming back to me.
“I’d draw less attention than you would,” he added, regaining something of his usual composure. Though his free hand still fidgeted with a blue stone he’d lately taken to wearing around his neck. One of his latest experiments, no doubt, since it was imbued with magic as indecipherably complex to me as his scribbles were.
“Nope,” I said with a shake of my head and a smile tugging at my lips.
Kor rolled his eyes. “I promised to behave, didn’t I?”
“Oh, you did, did you?” Svyer said dryly. “What did that kind of promise cost?”
Kor’s cheeks grew darker. “I’ll have you know—”
“See you at the landing in a half deken,” I said, stepping outside the study room and letting the door swing shut behind me.
“I assume you’re about to give me some last-dek instructions,” I said to Svyer as we strode out of the hold’s small library.
“You are correct,” she said with mock stiffness.
I sighed. “I know pretty much all you are going to say, but you won’t be happy until you do, so go ahead.”
“Good. Make sure you’re paying attention,” she said with a grin.
“I’m listening.”
Svyer sobered as she began. “Make sure she sleeps enough. She’s just been healed, so her body is going to need to recuperate the energy.”
“I know what it is like to get a healing, Svyer,” I said with a smile.
She snorted. “Not like this one, Ben. We drakón don’t get sick like that. And we’ve gotten healings all our lives. Aside from my superficial one last night, the one I gave her this morning was her first one ever. I exhausted myself going through her inch by inch, correcting everything from chemical imbalances to biome deficiencies to tooth decay to scar tissue. She almost has a new body at this point, and she’s going to need deken more sleep than normal for a while to make up for it.”
“I see,” I said, abashed.
“Next, make sure she eats enough—same reason.”
“Check. We’ve packed plenty of food—enough to last us for several days if necessary. And that’s at the rate Yvera eats.”
“That’s another thing: watch out for intestinal issues. Most likely she’s not used to our food, either; plus, it’s another source of disease she has no immunity to.”
“Noted,” I said with a grimace of sympathy. For us both. This could get awkward fast. I was almost tempted to call Avva again and ask for an exception to let Svyer come along after all.…
No. It had to be just us. I knew that.
“Which brings up the most important thing: check her often. I’d say at least three times a day. I know that sounds excessive, but given your lack of experience and her lack of immunity, the earlier you can catch something, the better. Darkfever probably won’t give her as much trouble again, but there are other diseases that strike nearly as quickly for us, and I shudder to think how quickly she could succumb.”
“Agreed,” I said grimly.
“Remember her sensitivity to heat. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s also sensitive to cold. I packed her cold-weather gear, and I’ll suggest to her that she wear at least the coat before flying today.”
“Good, thank you.”
“When she uses the water-rooms, I recommend sending Yvera with her, if you can persuade her to help. I know Yv won’t be very patient, but.…”
I sighed. “I agree. Whether she’ll do it is another story, but I’ll try.”
“Try hard,” Svyer insisted. “The water-rooms are where Sarah is most vulnerable to exposure. And…other things.”
I grimaced. “I know. Trust me, I know.”
Silence fell between us. After about half a dek, I glanced sidelong at her.
“What, is that all?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood. “Can the mother hanna not think of another thing to instruct me about her chick?”
“Not at the moment,” she said, biting her lip. “I won’t try to tell you how to protect her, since you know how to do that better than I do. So…no. But I’m sure I’ll think of something later—after you’re gone.”
Her serious reply made me realize how genuinely worried she was.
“Svyer.…” I wasn’t sure how to phrase my question. “You’re normally the mothering type, but this…seems a little excessive, even for you.”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “And you’re normally the helpful, hero type, but this is a bit excessive, even for you.”
“Fair point. But you know at least part of the reason I’m doing this.”
“Then you know even better than I do why I’m ‘mothering’ her, as you’re calling it.”
Just then, we reached the guest wing, and Svyer’s steps slowed. I matched her pace, letting her think. When we came to Sarah’s door, we both stopped and looked at each other.
Svyer glanced at the door, then back at me, her emerald eyes earnest. Do you know what I’m most worried about, Ben?
What? I asked, my inner voice quiet.
It isn’t disease or heat or monsters. I think she’ll learn to handle those. She’s stronger than she looks. But only if she has a friend to show her that. That’s what I worry about most: that while she’s stuck with just the three of you, she’ll feel more alone than she’s ever felt in her life.
I frowned. She’ll have—
You know how they are, Ben, Svyer said intently. You know what kind of friends they are to you. Imagine how they’ll seem to her. Kor will push her to her breaking point out of some misguided quest to “help” her, and Yvera won’t take her seriously until Sarah can hold her own. All she’ll have is you. And you’re already determined to push her away.
I swallowed. I’m not.…
Svyer glared at me while folding her arms. You said it yourself just a few deken ago, so don’t deny it. So as a friend and your kin, I’m warning you, Ben: Don’t court her if that’s what you think is best. Fine. But what you really can’t afford to do is make her feel alone and worthless by pushing her away. She might be your only chance…but I know you are hers.
Without giving me any time to recover from the blow of that statement, Svyer turned to Sarah’s door and knocked. I only had a moment to feel a surge of inexplicable panic before Sarah pushed open the door.
Her warm brown eyes lit up when they rose to mine.
“Ben,” she said, tucking a stray lock from her braid behind her ear. “Uh, hi. Again.”
“Hello. Again,” I managed, throat tight.
She was looking well: recovered, rested, and changed back into her white shirt from yesterday, except this time with dramá-made gray trousers and brown boots. But my relief at seeing her up, whole, and freshly dressed didn’t explain the pounding in my flameheart at the sight of her.
Svyer snorted, breaking the moment of awkwardness between us. “I knew I was forgetting something. We have to do your hair before you leave.”
Without further ado, she pushed her way into Sarah’s room, shooing the girl in front of her and leaving me to catch the door before it could swing shut in my face.
“We do?” Sarah asked in confusion as I tentatively stepped into her room and let the door close behind me. Technically, I hadn’t been invited, but then, neither had Svyer, and I wasn’t going to just stand outside where people could stare at me and wonder what I was doing in front of the door with the bright white gem.
Curse that little thing. What had Kor been thinking?
“Of course we do,” Svyer said, kindly but insistently pushing Sarah into her desk chair. She positioned herself behind Sarah and began taking apart the Earthren’s braid with gentle efficiency. “You’re going to be flying, remember? And maybe for longer than yesterday, too. If you don’t bind that pretty hair up somehow, it’s going to be a headache to untangle tonight, ferrin bristles or no.”
“Did you get me a brush?” Sarah asked eagerly, then added hastily, “I mean, don’t worry if you didn’t—”
“Of course I got you a brush,” Svyer said with a wink—and a pointed look in my direction. Then she leaned down and mock-whispered in Sarah’s ear, “After all, I was the one who went shopping.”
Clearly an inside joke, from the way Sarah laughed. My gut wrenched at the way her whole heart-shaped face lit up when she did so, the lines of anxiety I’d come to take for granted in the brief time I’d known her disappearing.
I realized Svyer was dead right. What Sarah needed most right now wasn’t protection or healing or possessions. What she needed was a friend. Svyer’s nurturing, Peacegrowth instincts had homed in on that need, perhaps from the moment they’d met. Her affection for Sarah was genuine, but it was also reflexive, an automatic response. That was why even Svyer hadn’t realized what the most important thing she had been doing for Sarah was until the moment she needed to tell me what I had to do in her stead.
Which meant she was right about the other things, too. Kor and Yvera would both mean well, in their own ways, but neither of them could give Sarah what she needed most to flourish in our world: genuine, warm friendship. The kind that asked nothing of you but that you just be…you.
I was already doomed to failure in that regard, because I wanted something from her, and unfortunately, no need of hers, no matter how tender, could prevent me from asking for it. Too much was at stake. Her sudden arrival after a year of searching portended too much for me to deny that she was the one we needed to restore what we had lost. The one…to save Avva.
Those unhappy thoughts swirled like a slowly growing cyclone in my head as I leaned as inconspicuously as I could against the far wall of her bedroom and Svyer braided the Earthren’s dark brown hair. I felt like I was intruding on something as the young women chatted like old friends, Svyer asking about how Sarah had liked the food I’d brought and Sarah asking bewildered questions about the ingredients.
Svyer finished the crown braid too quickly, even though I suspected she had dragged out the process longer than necessary by deliberately fumbling and redoing some steps.
“Think you can do that on your own?” she asked Sarah, holding out a mirror for the young woman to see her handiwork.
Sarah laughed, twirling a loose framing lock around her finger. “Definitely not. But I’ll be able to manage something simpler, don’t worry.”
Svyer looked at me speculatively, making me throw up my hands. “Don’t look at me. I never learned. I’d just make more knots.”
Never mind that just the thought of touching Sarah’s dark, soft-looking hair made my hands tingle alarmingly.
Sarah laughed. “I’ll be fine, Svyer,” she said as she stood up. Her eyes softened, expression shifting into something tender as she threw her arms around the other young woman.
“Thank you. For everything.”
“This isn’t goodbye,” Svyer said, voice stern. No doubt to mask the tears I could see gleaming in the corners of her eyes.
“Ben is taking me home,” Sarah said, pulling away.
“If he manages to send you home, that means it’s because he’s made a sungate connect to Earth,” Svyer told her, her hand lingering on Sarah’s shoulder. “And if that’s the case, it can bring you back for a visit, when all is said and done.”
Sarah’s eyes brightened, and I felt an uplift of hope in my chest. Perhaps her time here had not been all terrible. Perhaps she was already inclined to want to come back.…
“Really?” she asked.
“Ask Ben,” Svyer said, steering her around to face me. Svyer’s lips twitched, and her eyes sparkled in amusement as they met mine over Sarah’s head. “Regulating the sungates is up to the Golden King and Heir, after all.”
“Er, Ben?” Sarah asked, tucking her loose strands behind one ear—which ruined the framing effect to an endearing degree.
It took me a split second to realize this was my cue. “Er, of course,” I said, clearing my throat. “Of course you can come back. That is. If you’d like to. And…agree to abide by certain laws.…”
“Which we don’t need to get into at the moment,” Svyer finished, grinning at me from behind Sarah. “I doubt you’ll have a problem with any of them, though.”
“Makes sense,” Sarah said sincerely. “Thank you, Ben.”
Every time she thanked me, my gut twisted with guilt, and given Svyer’s warning in the back of my mind, this time was worse than all the others.
“Thank me when I get that gate open,” I said with a half-smile, half-grimace. “If you’re still feeling that generous after I’ve explained everything, that is.”
There, finally, I gave her a hint of what was to come. We’d had so few chances to talk until now, but that was about to change.
Sarah gazed up at me soberly, so I knew she’d caught at least something of my hint, but there was no trace of surprise or suspicion in those warm depths. Just…calm acceptance.
My heart pounded as I struggled against hope. Could it be that easy? Would she really be so understanding?
No—she couldn’t be. Maybe it would have been different if I could have explained from the very first moment. If she’d been able to understand me. If the sun hadn’t been sinking over the horizon. If I’d brought myself to just talk to her last night as I should have instead of making excuses to myself about how I would botch the explanation in my exhausted state—not to mention my self-consciousness after Kor’s prodding.
Instead, she was thus far under the illusion that we were doing all of this because it was the right thing to do. As soon as she fully understood otherwise, she might be resentful at best, and, at worst, furious, betrayed, or outright refusing to help. Rightfully so. I should be doing this simply out of the goodness of my heart, when only I could help her go back to life as she knew it. I should be helping her to resume that life, setting her free to blissfully forget this experience as if it were nothing more than a bad dream.
I wasn’t doing any of those things. Couldn’t be.
Svyer startled us both out of our shared gaze with a clap on Sarah’s shoulder. “Well, it’s time for you two to get going, isn’t it?”
“I…guess so,” Sarah said, with a dart of her eyes back at me.
I belatedly cleared the remorse out of my throat. “Yes, it is. That is…if you’re ready.…”
“One more thing,” Svyer said, going over to the two large canvas bags she had packed for Sarah. I’d nearly rolled my eyes when I’d originally seen how much Svyer had requisitioned for Sarah under my name, but that was when I’d come to see the Earthren after Svyer had sent word about her concussion and fever, so I was too full of gratitude for everything Svyer had done to protest at the excess. It wasn’t like we didn’t owe Sarah bags more—of whatever she wanted. If she agreed to help, I’d empty the Crown Treasury for her, Minister Thirra’s protests be torched.
“Were you cold when you rode on Ben’s back yesterday?” Svyer asked, giving Sarah a look that demanded nothing but the absolute truth.
“Well.…” Sarah said, glancing at me again.
“What?” I asked, heart sinking. “Why didn’t you.…”
Say anything? When? She couldn’t speak with an inner voice—she was amá. She would have had to shout over the wind and flaps of my wings. And what could I have done? Spent even more energy to have kept the air around her warm? Landed in the dark so that I could get out a coat for her?
But I should have anticipated the cold from the beginning! Not that amón usually mind it in this climate, but still.…
Had I done anything right when it came to her?
Some of my devastation must have been clear on my face, because Sarah and Svyer both spoke at the same time.
“You couldn’t have known—” Sarah began.
“What’s done is done,” Svyer said with finality.
Then she rose from where she’d been ruffling through Sarah’s bags and brought out a long leather, fur-lined coat with a drawstring hood. The dark hide and white fur looked to be kallanth, so it should be able to keep even an amá warm. I was relieved and a bit impressed Svyer had found something that high quality and heavy duty here, in Elspeth Hold, near the middle of their summer. She must have bullied her way into getting access to their emergency stores and then taken the best they had to offer. I idly wondered how many Elspeth clerks were cursing my name right now. Just another reason to be glad we were leaving today, I supposed.
Even so, I sent a prayer of thanks to the Flame for my cousin and solemnly promised to forgive her for every little bit of nuisance she caused me growing up together. Even the time she’d put raidonroot in my soup so that I was sneezing uncontrollably the entire Winter Solstice feast.
“Oh,” Sarah gasped appreciatively, holding up one of the front panels so that she could examine the silver-embossed pattern of fern-like swirls. I had to admit that the effect was well-done, and as Sarah bent over the coat, I noticed that the darkened leather matched her hair suspiciously well. I cast a glance at Svyer, who grinned at me.
Sarah looked up at Svyer, eyes glinting with emotion. “You got this last night? For me?”
“Yes, but Ben is owed some thanks, since he paid for it,” Svyer said with a nod in my direction, grin still on her lips.
“No thanks are necessary,” I said quickly as Sarah turned. “I had no more idea that she’d gotten that for you than you did. Besides, it’s the least I can do if I’m going to put you through flying again today.”
And possibly the next day. And the next.
“You got a saddle, right?” Svyer asked me as she thrust the coat into Sarah’s arms.
Ah, there. The one thing I’d gotten right, it seemed.
“Yes.” I smiled apologetically at Sarah. “Today is going to be a lot more comfortable than yesterday, I promise.”
The relief in her expressive eyes warmed my flameheart even as it twisted my gut with guilt.
“Is that all?” I asked Svyer, since I could see thanks once again rising in Sarah’s eyes.
“I think so,” Svyer said with a shrug and a frown. “Was there anything else uncomfortable about flying, Sarah?”
Sarah hesitated one moment, so there was something.
“What is it?” Svyer asked gently. I made a careful mental note to do the same whenever it looked like there was something Sarah needed. Clearly this Earthren was going to need prompting.
“Nothing you can help,” Sarah said with a wry chuckle. “The…height.”
Svyer laughed, and I grinned ruefully.
“You’re right,” I said. “But the saddle should make you feel more secure.”
“And,” Svyer added, “if it makes you feel better, even many amón don’t enjoy flying on our backs. Especially the first few times. But some of them learn to enjoy it.”
“What about drakón?” Sarah asked. “Do you two enjoy flying?”
I blinked at both her knowledge and calm acceptance of our differences now—a far cry from her white-faced bewilderment when I’d first tried to explain what I was to her yesterday. I felt another twinge of gratitude as I realized Svyer must have done some explaining last night.
I had to process that for a moment before I realized that Sarah’s eyes were on me, not Svyer, and that Svyer hadn’t answered her.
“Of course,” I said, a broad, genuine smile growing on my face for what felt like the first time in days as I just thought about flying. “Every drakón does. It’s…incredible.”
“The best feeling in the world,” Svyer agreed.
Wistfulness entered Sarah’s eyes for a moment, but she refocused on the coat to hide the expression.
My gut twisted again. What kind of upbringing had this Earthren had, to be so tentative about her own wants? To be so ridiculously grateful for every scrap of kindness shown to her?
I impulsively made a reckless and foolish vow, considering the improbability of fulfilling it: somehow, one day, I would give Sarah the slightest glimpse at the joy that came from flight. Not out of a sense of obligation to her. Not to make up for the way I was no doubt going to disappoint her.
Simply because she, Sarah of Earth, deserved to feel that kind of joy.