Something roiled in my stomach as I watched Rada say goodbye to Tristan. The young man embraced her with obvious familiarity, and when he didn’t let go after a while, instead burying his face in her hair, I cleared my throat.
“We need to leave. There’s a lot to do on the farm if we want to go to Dalath tomorrow.”
Farm Boy finally stepped back at my words, though one of hishands lingered on Rada’s shoulder, and he made another sad puppy face.
“Won’t you be missing a horse?” he asked, with a glance at the wagon where his brother now rested. “Perhaps the two of you should come to the village with us. It might be safer. Kyree and I will leave at once with Khendrik, while Adesh and the others take care of burying the dead.”
“She can ride with me,” I interjected curtly. Rada and I needed to talk far from the ears of the villagers, without any interruptions. I might still be able to make her see reason.
Rada pressed Tristan’s hand with a warm smile. “Thank you, but Bele is right. We have to get back to the farm. I don’t want to leave the animals alone for too long. But don’t worry. We will see each other in Dalath.”
I really couldn’t wait.
Thankfully, Tristan returned to his brother’s side. Yet we still couldn’t leave, as Kyree approached us next. “I will return the Water stone to you when you come to the village,” he murmured, leaning close to me and Rada. “Let’s hope the others didn’t see me use it.”
“It’s not forbidden to own alyr-stone,” I said with a frown.
“No, just unlikely for simple folk like us,” Kyree replied. “We don’t want any additional scrutiny.”
“No,” Rada said softly, taking his hand. “Thank you, my friend.”
The Aerieth smiled warmly at me. “I’m pleased you’re here with her. She may be the mistress of her fate, but she appreciates the company.”
“Kyree!” Rada exclaimed, shaking her head in mild annoyance.
The healer chuckled. “Don’t complain. Dolores wasn’t exaggerating. You are indeed a fortunate woman.”
“We are only friends,” Rada stated, her tone sharp with danger.
“Of course. Now go. The sooner you come to Dalath the better.” When Rada took Nacin’s reins, Kyree turned to me. “I am glad,” he whispered, “that not all of your kind are unfaithful and indifferent to the fate of others.”
My gaze followed him as he jogged back to the wagon. What an odd comment to make. Could he suspect Rada’s and my true identity?
Resolving to ask her about it later, I mounted Nacin and leaned down to help Rada up. The moment she had settled comfortably behind me, her arms encircling my waist, I spurred my horse onward, the road back to the farm stretching out before us.
“How did Khendrik survive?” Rada beat me to asking the first question the instant we were out of hearing distance, her voice tense. “The Chiasma used the Human life force to open a gate to the Other, didn’t they?”
“Not directly,” I replied, keeping my eyes fixed on the road. “They used one or more Chaosdaggers to open the gate. The Humans were merely channels for the overflow of untamed Chaos magic. With Yggdrasil’s fall, it is more unpredictable than ever. Using the life force of others is a blunt but effective way to prevent burning out.” I shrugged. “That was Vultaron’s mistake. He channeled more power than he could handle, and it destroyed him. Chaos is an unforgiving force—one moment of weakness can lead to destruction.”
“That doesn’t explain why Khendrik didn’t die like the rest of the Humans,” Rada pressed.
“Mmm. I suspect he has a latent ability to wield magic. It’s not uncommon among Humans. Small, surely, but enough to keep himalive when the others perished.” My mouth quirked into an unamused smile. “Perhaps that’s why you felt drawn to his brother. That proclivity for Chaos probably runs in the family.”
Rada inhaled sharply behind me, clearly taken aback by my comment. Then she stated firmly, “You are not going to kill Tristan.”
“Why should I concern myself with the fate of a mere farm boy?” I replied, feigning innocence.
She snorted in disbelief. “I saw that look in your eyes earlier. You were contemplating a dozen ways to end his life when I said goodbye to him.”
Unfortunately, I had failed to come up with a method she could not trace back to me. “Believe me,” I said, detesting the mere discussion of him. “I know the boy is irrelevant.”
She shifted around behind me. “Tristan is a very kind man. He was there for me when I felt… well, lonely. He never asked for anything in return, and he deserves so much better than losing everything to the forces of Chaos.”
Maker, she made it sound like the cursed man didhera favor by sleeping with her. When he should have thanked fate on his knees for even being permitted to touch as much as her hand. Then her halting tone registered in my mind. She wasn’t as self-assured about this as she pretended.
“You’re feeling guilty,” I stated, aware it would irk her.
“I amnotfeeling guilty,” she retorted, bouncing in her indignation—a reaction that almost made me laugh. “Because I have no reason to feel guilty. I believed you were dead. Besides, even if I had known you were not, you have no claim on me.”
