“No,” Evelyn said, putting her hands on Warna’s chest. Once again Verice saw her hands glow. “I am Evelyn, a healer. Dominic and I are going to help you.”
“Oh no,” Warna looked so pitiful. “Evelyn, no more vomiting,” she begged.
“Call me Evie,” Evelyn gave her a rueful smile. “And no more vomiting. I promise.”
Verice resisted whenthey made him leave at dawn.
“The worst of it is over,” Evelyn pointed out as they settled Warna back on the bed. “Dominic and his staff can handle it from here. I must return to the Church for the dawn service, but I would like to return later to make sure that the gwenwyth is out of her body. You can open a portal at—”
“I give you leave to open your own, Lady High Priestess,” Verice said wearily. “I will seek my own bed, I swear. I don’t know how you will have the strength to perform your duties.”
“Long years as a healer.” She smiled.
Verice looked down at Warna, who hadn’t stirred as they’d covered her with blankets. “Lady High Priestess, you have my heartfelt and undying gratitude. She’s—”
“Hush.” Evelyn turned him, and pushed him towards the door. “Before you promise me all sorts of impossible things.” She opened the door and forced him through. “But Lord Verice?”
He paused just outside the door. “Yes?”
She wrinkled her nose at him impishly, and gestured toward his stained tunic and trous. “You might want to bathe before you take to your bed.”
Verice slept longerthan he intended, and woke to a mid-day sun streaming through his windows. The dogs weren’t about; he couldn’t remember when he saw them last. He dressed quickly, threw water on his face, and started for the keep, not pausing for food or drink.
It might have been his imagination, but the sun seemed brighter this day, and the folk that greeted him seemed lighter of heart. A fancy, surely, but Verice took the steps to the keep two at a time, barely nodding at anyone he saw. The door to her bedchamber was closed, and he almost feared to open it when he heard—
Verice stopped, the knot deep in his chest unwinding from around his heart. He leaned against the wall and did something he rarely did. He offered his deep and sincere thanks to his Ancestors.
Warna was singing.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Kalynn stood at the center of the Heart of the Plains and breathed in the air of home.
The sky above was a bowl of blue, darkening to the east as the sun set. The stars were starting to dance along the horizon.
The breeze was soft; the heat of summer fading from the air. She’d toed off her boots, and the Heart was warm beneath her feet. Warm from the sun, but lifeless otherwise.
Wolfe was removing the airion’s harnesses, freeing them to hunt. Of course, they had to roll in the grasses as soon as they were free. It made her laugh to see their joy.
Wolfe walked toward her, his wispy white hair floating in the breeze. He carried one of the saddle bags and a blanket. He paused at the rim of the stone.
Kalynn waited.
He shook his head, shrugged, and stepped on to the surface.
Nothing happened.
“Do you remember?” She asked as he walked closer. “When it pulsed with life? When all the Tribes gathered around, and the Heart beat with their energy?”
“Yes, of course,” he spread out the blanket, and pulled her down to sit beside him. “Let’s see what we have. There’s those hard crackers you like, and cheese and—”
“Regrets?” She asked.
Wolfe stilled, and then looked out into the distance. “I regret that they would not listen. I regret that they would not honor your choice. They dragged you from me, screaming your outrage and fear, and I lost my mind in that instant.”
Kalynn rose on her knees, and hugged him, pressing his head to her breast.
He continued, his voice muffled. “I regret that I lost all control, tore the magic from the lands in my rage. It fled, from me, from them, from the very Plains around us.”
