“How does your eye feel?” Estral asked. “I know Mender Simeon—or is it Rider Simeon? Mender Rider Simeon? Anyway, I know he came down to check on you.”
“A little sore,” Karigan replied. Estral pursed her lips as if she knew it was an understatement. Karigan blew on her tea, and then asked, “What of Lhean?”
Estral sat on the foot of the bed with her tea and muffin. “The Eletians departed last evening. I guess their business here is done for now.”
Karigan stared into her mug. “I suppose the whole castle knows about . . .”
“Just those of us who were in the Rider wing at the time. The captain ordered the Riders to respect your privacy and avoid gossip.”
Karigan looked up. “She did?”
“I think,” and Estral spoke carefully, “according to Mara, she did not want the king to become angry with the Eletians for upsetting you. In the event he decided to express his displeasure, she did not want any possibility of an alliance with the Eletians endangered.”
Karigan sputtered on her tea and coughed.
“Easy there,” Estral said.
Estral was the only person she had ever confided in about the feelings between her and King Zachary, how he had once expressed his love for her. And the captain knew? And Mara? The captain was his closest advisor and an old friend, but was this something he and she had discussed? And she thought that Lhean’s actions would endanger a possible alliance with Eletia?
“Gods,” Karigan muttered.
“You know men,” Estral said airily, with a smile to show she was jesting. “So emotional. In fact, I happen to know one such myself, and we spoke yesterday. After a fashion.”
“Alton?”
Estral nodded.
“How? Is he here?”
“No. Lieutenant Connly arrived sometime after you met with Lhean.”
“Ah, of course,” Karigan murmured. “That’s good.”
“Yes.” Estral told her all about her conversation with Alton, including his punishment from Captain Mapstone.
“Laundry duty?” Karigan laughed, and the sound of it surprised her.
Estral nodded solemnly. “He can be very intense sometimes. I imagine he’s been chopping wood to vent.”
“He changed after he was pushed into Blackveil.” Karigan remembered well how he had treated her afterward. The forest’s poison had turned him against her, and the wall had turned against him. His inability to mend the wall made his anger and frustration all the worse.
“Who wouldn’t?” Estral asked, gazing keenly at Karigan. “Over time, though, I saw that part of him diminish. The anger. But when my voice was taken, I—I was not well. I thought it was the end of the world. I did not want to live, and it affected him. He felt helpless that he could not make everything better, and he got angry again.”
I thought it was the end of the world, Estral had said. I did not want to live . . . Karigan understood only too well.
As if perceiving her thoughts, Estral said, “I came to realize losing my voice was not everything, that it was not the end of the world. It hurt, still does, but I found another kind of voice.”
“You mean what Idris gave you.”
“Oh, it’s a magnificent gift, but no. The voice I found was my own, in writing. That is when I started taking down the history of the Green Riders, and it helped Alton, too, because he saw my interest in life rekindled, and he liked that I asked him and Dale many questions. It brought him back, until I left. But look at me now, all chatty thanks to Idris.”
“I’m glad,” Karigan replied. “I thought I heard singing yesterday, or something like song.”
“You did, but it was not me. I was not ready. It was Enver.”
They sat in silence for a while, working their way through the feast Estral had brought in the basket. Karigan was surprised to find herself famished when so often since her return she had been indifferent to food.
Estral quartered an apple and shared it with Karigan before sitting again at the foot of the bed. Dim daylight filtered through the arrow-slit windows, but left much of the chamber in shadow, but for the glow of firelight that played across Estral’s face. She was getting a certain look in her eye, one that was not unfamiliar to Karigan. It usually appeared when Estral had some subject to broach that was probably difficult or uncomfortable.
“I lost my voice,” Estral said. “It was stolen from me, but there is a chance I can restore it, so it’s not nearly as terrible as losing someone I love.”
So, she was broaching that subject. “Your father,” Karigan said, hoping to divert the conversation.
“My father is missing,” Estral replied, “but like my voice, I have hope of finding him.” Karigan opened her mouth to speak, but Estral shook her head. “I know you are trying to waylay me down a different path because the one I’m on is painful for you. I am not going to push you, but you know you only need ask if you ever want to talk about it.”
Silence fell between them, and Karigan took a rattling breath. She stared at the chunk of apple on her palm and then looked up at Estral. “His name was Cade.”
• • •
Perhaps it was the food, or perhaps it was the comfort of having her best friend there, but Karigan’s recounting of her time in the future was not as painfully draining as she feared. Estral was an excellent and patient listener, not interrupting except when she required clarification. The story was halting due to whatever blocked Karigan’s memory. When she told how she had been wrenched from Cade, it all came back vividly and painfully in the wake of Lhean having made her relive it. There were fresh tears, though not nearly as hard as those of the previous day.