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He had been more like Florian than I could ever possibly have guessed.
I felt the tears still trickling from the corner of my eyes. I had thought I could run from Camelot, but my cursed life had followed me.
Something about me must be evil to have deserved all that I had endured. My own family believed I was an infection to be subdued and suppressed lest I contaminate them with my otherness.
No matter how far I traveled, I could never escape it.
Was this my final punishment for killing my father and allowing my brother to live?
I thought of Kaye. Who would tell him I was never coming home?
I thought of Lancelet, dragged into the darkness. Had she felt this same icy numbness as she had been slowly devoured?
Finally, I thought of Draven. For a moment the ice in my chest fell away and I felt the greatest stab of pain of all.
I wanted to tell him he had been right. I should never have trusted Vesper. I should have trusted him instead. I wanted to tell him that I did trust him.
But it was too late.
I thought of his arms around me as we lay together in the tent, my body wracked with fever. He had held me then, sheltered me and protected me.
I had never even said thank you.
The memory. With relief, I realized it was pure.
My eyelids flickered once, twice, as I let myself remember.
CHAPTER 35
The battlecat paddedinto the chamber with the warrior and child on her back. Her fur was moist with blood and gore, but she was purring in triumphant contentment. She had decimated all who had dared to stand between her and her warrior.
Kairos Draven, called Void’s Edge by some fearful fools, jumped from the cat’s back then turned to lift down the child.
His keen eyes took in the scene around him, from the pile of ash to the dark surface of the lake to the silver-haired woman who lay still and silent upon the stones.
A string of curses cut through the tranquility of the chamber as he sank to his knees beside the woman’s prone form, his sword dropping with a clatter.
