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Shion tramped up to the bridge, his face flushed with emotion. He stood there, nodding in respect to the Seneschal, but he could not meet his eyes. His hand trembled on the railing of the bridge. He cast a quick, furtive glance at Phae and she realized she was visible to him.
Shion’s voice was hoarse. “I come with grievous news,” he said, sinking to his knees in front of the Seneschal. “Your daughter is dead.”
“I know.”
Anguish of the deepest kind was etched into Shion’s brow. He struggled to breathe, to inhale past his tears. “I failed to protect her.” He wiped his mouth, his cheek muscles twitching. “I beg you to give her soul back to me. I know her spirit magic persists for three days in the mortal world. Let me revive her, my master. I have already given my oath to serve you. I only ask for this one boon.” He wrung his hands together, still unable to meet the Seneschal’s gaze. “I beg you.”
The Seneschal was quiet, considering. “Your heart is grieved, my son. My daughter accepted her fate when she chose to leave Mirrowen. Would you undo that choice?”
Shion winced at the words. “I did not know . . . I could not see the future. I was careless, but do not let my error allow her life to be purged.”
“Was I careless to let her go?” the Seneschal said, his voice deep with meaning. “I—who can see the future? Do you trust my judgment, Prince Isic?”
A spasm of pain seemed to burst open in Shion’s face. “If you knew it, how could you allow it?”
“How could I not allow it?” came the reply. “I cannot force a person to choose.”
“You once told me that the Unwearying Ones who created us without our help will not save us without our consent. I ask you . . . I plead with you! Save her. You were her father. Surely it grieves you as well? I ask for this one boon. I will ask nothing else from you. I will give my whole heart to you, even if you reject my plea. There are no conditions. I submit to your judgment. But please . . . if it is possible . . . give me my wife.” Choking sobs erupted from Shion’s throat.
Phae felt tears trickle down her own cheeks.
“Persistence is powerful magic,” the Seneschal said in a near whisper. “You know I can do as you request. You know I have that keramat. You know it is possible. Bid me again, and I will grant it. Compel me with your magic, and she is yours.”
It will only add to your pain
Phae heard the whisper and watched Shion closely, her heart leaping into her throat. He was being given a choice. She could feel the wrongness of the choice, could sense that the outcome would be terrible. Yet Shion’s desire to be with his wife blinded him and deafened him to the subtle pulse of the whisper. His grief was too new, too raw.
Shion bowed his head in grief, trying to control his breathing. His quavering muscles began to calm. The intensity of his feelings was seen in his stormy eyes. In the skies above, a swirling vortex had opened up, painting the clouds in hues of green. The storm could not be felt inside the city gardens, but Phae knew the surf was hammering again.
Lifting his chin, Shion faced the Seneschal. He slowly rose to his feet and outstretched an arm. Opening his mouth, he started to sing.
Phae’s eyes widened, recognizing the tune from the gold locket. A tune that generations of those from the Paracelsus Order had captured and bound in trinkets. Shion’s song wove through the air, full of pathos and sorrow, building in power as his voice became stronger. Phae’s knees trembled with the weight of it, recognizing again how many ties had bound them together. She had first heard the tune huddled and frightened in an abandoned homestead. It was Shion’s song—a song he had lost.
Tears poured from her eyes as she listened to the notes fade into stillness. All of Mirrowen was hushed with his mourning anthem. All the Unwearying Ones paid homage to his suffering.
Phae saw tears in the Seneschal’s eyes. “Leave Mirrowen. I will send her spirit walking behind you to the Mother Tree. There is a gap in the trunk, a portal to Mirrowen. If you look back, even once, to see if she follows, then she will vanish. Do not gaze back or you will lose her forever. This was your choice. Depart.”
Shion bowed his head, nodding in gratitude with a broken, “Thank you,” passing from his lips. He started away, walking back across the bridge.
The Seneschal gestured and a gossamer spirit appeared, a lovely young maiden—his daughter, the Dryad-born. Phae could see the wisps of spirit magic trailing from her. She looked at her father, bowing her head in respect and love, and then flitted off after Shion.
“What happens now?” Phae whispered, wiping her eyes.
