Mister Whiskers lay on his back in the sun, in housecat form, with his paws in the air. Midnight lay decorously curled on a rock, her intense green eyes half-lidded, watching Estral as she walked across the campsite.
Nari beckoned her to Enver’s tent, and he met her at the opening. He looked her over as though to ensure she was all right.
“I know you wish to see the Galadheon,” he said, “but Nari has prepared you breakfast for after.”
“I don’t think I could eat,” she said. Her stomach was in turmoil.
“You are in need of sustenance to keep up your strength, for the Galadheon’s sake, if not your own.”
She knew he was right.
“Please be welcome,” he said, gesturing to his tent. “The Galadheon walks the dreams of one who is fevered, and may not be aware of your presence. The healing will take time. Nari and I will await you outside.”
She nodded, and taking a deep breath, ducked into the tent. It appeared to be larger on the inside than she remembered, the interior a soothing blue. The air was not stuffy, not too warm or too cool. An herby aroma suffused the tent from a steaming bowl of water with unknown leaves steeping in it.
Karigan lay on her stomach with a blanket drawn up to her hips, her back exposed to the air. It had been cleaned up, but for all that, it looked worse with the weals darkened into bruises, and the gaping wounds of scored flesh clearly visible. Estral closed her eyes to steady herself, breathed deeply. When she was ready, she knelt beside Karigan.
“Karigan?” she said softly.
Sweat beaded and dripped down Karigan’s face. She did not respond. Estral sat beside her. How had it all gone wrong? All the self-accusations rose up again. She was so tired, too tired for tears.
“Not without you,” Karigan murmured.
“What?”
But Karigan did not seem to hear her. She muttered and twitched, caught in some dream “. . . will not leave you. No . . . no . . . Cade . . .”
Oh, gods, Estral thought. If she hadn’t felt miserable enough for having been the cause of Karigan’s hurts, it now appeared Karigan was reliving her loss of Cade.
“Why . . . ?” Karigan whispered. “Why do you do this to me? Let me go back . . . let me go . . .”
Estral could only guess at who the “you” was. Karigan’s body tensed, trembled so violently, that Estral took a cloth from the bowl of herby water, wrung it out, and bathed Karigan’s face. After a moment, Karigan stopped trembling, though her muscles remained tense.
Estral called on her own childhood, remembering how her mother had sung to her when she was sick, and so now she softly sang a lullaby—not one of the creepy ones that were actually about death or dark creatures coming for naughty children, but a gentle nonsensical tune about a mouse, a cow, and stardust. Karigan’s taut muscles relaxed, and as Estral continued to sing, her breathing eased.
From the lullaby, she went into a quiet ballad about the vineyards of Rhovanny and the love between two who harvested the grapes. She sang other songs of a soothing nature, all the ones she could think of until her voice grew hoarse. When she could sing no more, she sat exhausted with her head bowed, her friend still obviously fevered, but peaceful.
Enver entered the tent. “You sing the healing in your own way, little cousin. It was well done, but now you must see to your own strength. Nari awaits you by the fire. I will keep watch over the Galadheon.”
“She is going to be all right, isn’t she?”
“She is strong.”
His answer was not, she thought, as reassuring as it could have been. She left the tent feeling lightheaded. She sat hard before the fire and stared into the flames. Apparently Enver was not concerned about smoke the way Karigan would have been. She was barely aware of Nari placing a warm bowl of porridge in her hand.
“You must eat,” Nari said, “so your weakness does not distract Enver from the healing of the Galadheon. You will feel better for some nourishment.”
Estral obeyed, eating mechanically. Nuts and dried fruit had been added to the porridge, which proved heartening, and before she knew it, she’d eaten it all. She’d had no food since the previous morning.
Nari held a muffin out to her. “I found this among the food stores. There was but the one. Perhaps you would eat it?”
It was the last cranberry nut muffin from the wife of the innkeeper in the village of Red Rock. It was hard, but she resolved that problem by dunking it in her tea. When she finished eating, she did feel better. Mister Whiskers sauntered over and flopped across her feet. She stroked his cheek, and his purr relaxed her.
Nari watched her from across the fire, and it occurred to Estral to introduce herself properly and ask questions.
“I am Estral Andovian,” she said. “I don’t think I introduced myself last night. It was a difficult night.”
“Yes,” Nari said with a nod.
“Thank you for your help, though I was surprised Enver found another Eletian in this territory. How did you come to be here?”
“It is a long story, but just as Enver found the gryphons soaring above as he scouted the land, he found me as I hunted.”
“Hunted?”
“Yes. I hunt the aureas slee.”
Nari then told her the incredible tale of how she’d been taken from Argenthyne so long ago and held captive by the aureas slee. She only knew the passage of time and the changes in the world from other adult captives the elemental had imprisoned with her.
“The most recent,” Nari said, “was the king of your people.”