When her gaze finally settled on the familiar sight of her house through the trees, it was nearly nightfall, the sun just dipping below the horizon. And despite everything, Gwyn felt her feet faltering, her eyes casting a furtive, uneasy glance over her shoulder. Toward where, yes, Joarr’s tall shadow was still here, still following her, hesitating at a careful distance behind her.
His face was unreadable in the dim light, and Gwyn grimaced as she turned back to look at the house, scanning the empty-looking road, the dark, gaping windows.
“Is Stella there?” she asked, her voice cracking. “Or any men?”
There was an instant’s silence, and then the familiar feel of Joarr’s body, halting close beside her. “Ach, I smell her within,” he said, quiet. “And I ken the men soon come.”
Right. Gwyn drew in breath, rubbed her shaky hands on her dress. “So I should rush her out of the house,” she said, “and do it as quickly as possible, so you can take her somewhere safe, right? And then you can decide to meet up with Silfast and Kalfr, if she’s comfortable? And then I’ll stay here, and wait for Roy?”
She was fighting not to envision what Roy would do, what he might demand from her. And when Joarr didn’t immediately answer, she kept going, kept facing it, the words sounding shriller with every breath.
“Is there anything that you think will improve my chance of success?” she asked. “Anything I should do, or say? Should I try to fob Roy off, or surrender? And should I tell him about my pregnancy at once, or keep it secret? Should I try to stop the law before it’s final, or wait and then make a show of publicly testifying afterwards in Dunburg? Or, do I need to be considering more drastic measures, like” — she gulped down air — “like poisoning my father?”
The bile was churning in her stomach — for all her father had done, the thought of killing him was suddenly a thoroughly sickening one — and she dragged her hands at her hair, felt the pain hiss and splinter in her scalp. Why in the gods’ names hadn’t she been thinking of this all this time, making plans, drilling Joarr on every damned possible outcome, not wasting her only opportunity, her sacrifice, sostupid—
But again, abruptly, Joarr was here. Here,again, his hands clamping on her wrists, because apparently she would never be able to rid herself of him — and she couldn’t even pretend to resist as he drew her hands downward, away from her hair.
“Ach, woman,” he said, so quiet. “I wish I have all this truth to tell you. But it no work thus, ach? I no oft see such ways, such depth. Suchchoice. I most of all…feelthis. I feel you must come here, in the path of these men, and face this law. I feel you are only way to save Stella. I feel she needfriend.”
Oh. Gwyn’s shoulders sagged, her eyes dropping, her arms slackening in his grip. “But I thought you were the Seer,” she whispered, disconsolate. “You have visions. Dreams. Plans.Magic.”
But Joarr choked an odd sound, his hands clenching against her wrists. “It is no like dream, ach?” he said, his voice brittle. “It is no oftvision, also, and it is no even always true. I tell you, you oft break this, ach? But yet —”
Gwyn twitched to blink up at him, searching him, and he exhaled, heavy and slow. “I yet feel I must be near you,” he breathed. “I feel you arehope, for the Bautul, and our women, and this war. I feel” — his hand still holding her wrist drew it sideways, his claws brushing against her waist — “my son upon you.”
Oh. Gwyn was still gaping at him, unmoving — and Joarr jerked another shrug, exhaled another thick breath. “I feel you suffer for me,” he whispered. “I feel you give all for me, and my kin. I feel all your grief, and yourloss, at my hands.”
Her grief. Herloss. Gwyn’s body shuddered, her stomach roiling, her thoughts reeling away in a dark, desperate stream — but then, somehow, catching again. Hesitating, and then whirling back toward this, wondering, comprehending…
Because wait. Wait. Joarr hadn’t actually had dreams, or visions of this? He just…feltthese things? And she had truly changed hisfeelings, before… hadn’t she? Hadn’t she?
And even as her brain kept hollering, Gwyn’s heart seemed to lurch and settle again, finding a new, steadier thud in her chest. And where the emptiness had been, the aching aimless agony, there was suddenly something that felt more like… determination. Like…hope.
She was. Shewas.
You break my sight. Make me forget. Always good. Kindred witch. Stay. We try. Break this.
Mine.
And before it could fade, or gutter out, or get lost in the grief in his eyes — Gwyn spun on her heel and strode away, toward her house. Not saying goodbye this time, not even looking back, because maybe — maybe it wasn’t goodbye.
Not yet.
And with a breath, a whisper, ahope, she raised her hand, and rapped on the door.
33
For an instant, there was only stillness beyond the door. Empty, echoing stillness, as though perhaps they’d mistaken this, perhaps there was no one here at all.
But then, soft but certain, was the distinct sound of a sob. Muffled, strained, as if someone were seeking to hide it — and curse Gwyn, but that was no doubt because her knock on the door had surely suggested men, soldiers, danger,death.
“Stella,” she called, as loudly as she dared, casting an uneasy glance around at the still-empty road behind her. “It’s me. Gwyn. May I come in? Please?”
There was another choked, muffled-sounding sob — and then, the sound of movement, of the bar sliding back. And finally the door swung open, and behind it, there was Stella. Weeping, trembling, but alive. Safe.
“Oh, thank thegoddess,” Gwyn breathed, and without even knowing that she’d moved, she’d slammed the door shut behind her, and clasped Stella close in her arms, squeezing her tight. “How — how are you feeling? Is anything injured? You weren’t pursued, were you?”
She yanked back to look Stella over, to search her pale, tear-streaked face and bloodshot eyes. She appeared unharmed, at least, no visible scratches or injuries, but she was still sobbing, the sounds harsh and broken. “Nothing like that,” she gulped, “but it’s still been so awful, I feel so wretched and afraid, I should never have eventhoughtof such a foolish thing —”
