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“You’ve shown me the worst side of myself, Morgan,” Draven said, without meeting my eyes. “You seem exceptionally good at that.”
“It wasn’t hard to do. When there’s no good to reflect, it’s easy to reveal the worst,” I said ruthlessly.
Draven nodded. “I can understand why you’d think that. Bringing you here...” He shook his head as if tired. “I didn’t know what else to do. But maybe... Maybe it was the wrong idea.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You think?”
“So, go,” he said softly, meeting my eyes. “Go and be free. If that’s truly what you wish. If you really think I have less than your best interests at heart. If you won’t believe anything I have to say in my defense about last night. Then, I surrender, Morgan. I admit defeat.”
I was unable to believe my ears.
“If something happens to you after you leave here...” He swallowed. “I’ll never forgive myself. But the choice is yours to make.”
I clenched my jaw. “I don’t believe you.”
He nodded, as if he’d expected me to say that. “I’ll be clear. Tell me you want to go and tell me where, and I’ll arrange your passage. You wish to return to Pendrath? The voyage will be long and arduous. I refuse to trust the arch Lancelet mentioned traveling through–you remember?”
I nodded. “The one in the temple.”
“Right. I’m not sending you that way. It would be faster. It might also result in your fast death. We have no idea if the arch still stands or if it’s been destroyed or even moved. You might go through and find yourself in the middle of your brother’s castle–or the middle of a battle.”
“What about Crescent?” I asked quietly, still hardly believing this was real. “Maybe he could help me.”
Draven hesitated. “Stitching into Eskira... That’s something Siabra do only when they have absolutely no other choice. When we searched for Lancelet, we used an arch. I had a friend familiar with Meridium pull up the plans for the city as we last knew them. It turned out there was an arch I’d never known about. We used that instead of stitching.”
I raised one eyebrow. “That sounds as risky as using the one in the temple in Camelot.”
“One volunteer went through first,” Draven said quietly. “Once we were sure it was safe, the others followed.”
My heart quickened. “Who was the volunteer?”
Draven looked at me steadily. “Me.”
I glanced away, gazing out over the lake. “Oh.”
“Stitching over such a vast distance would also be incredibly draining to Crescent,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to put him through that. And he’s the only stitcher I would trust with your life.”
“I understand,” I said.
But I was still thinking about what he’d just confessed. That he’d risked his life to go back and look for Lancelet. Not only by returning to Meridium, but stepping into an unknown void. He might have gone into that arch and simply disappeared.
What would I have done then? A small voice in my head asked the question before I could stop it.
“There’s also the risk of the Valtain fae,” Draven said. “We don’t know if they’re monitoring uses of magic in Eskira. If Crescent tried to send you back using so much power at once...”
“Yes, I understand. I said I understood. I wouldn’t want Crescent to put himself at risk for me either. I hope you know that.”
He nodded.
“So, I’ll go by boat.” I tried to control the nervous anticipation in my voice. “How would that work? How long would it take?”
“You’d travel to the coast, then take a boat to Eskira. From there you’d have to cross the mountains. Via Rheged or Cerunnos most likely.” He hesitated. “You wouldn’t be alone. Odessa has offered to go with you. She’d keep you safe.”
“I can keep myself safe,” I said automatically. “But... that’s incredibly generous of her. She really offered?”
“She did. She understands... She knows what you mean to me.”
I refused to take the bait.
