"Lyn'?"

It was only a whisper, but it broke through her dream. Mahariel came to and turned over to find two brown eyes, rimmed in red, fixed upon her.

"Anders."

He tried to reach out to her, to take her into his arms, but he trembled, so she gathered him up instead. He felt as though he were made of kindling and paper, and she held him gently, cautiously, pressing her lips against his forehead. It was hot, damp, feverish.

"I found you," he insisted.

"I was never lost."

"I was," he breathed.

"Not anymore," she insisted. "Never again."

"Lyna," he choked.

"Hey. I've got you now. I've got you."

"Thank you," was all he said.

The light in the room was drifting into golden twilight. "It's almost dinner," Mahariel said. "Why don't we get you cleaned up and get something to eat?"

"Oh Maker," he groaned. "I haven't eaten." He didn't say in how long, and Mahariel knew better than to ask.

"I can draw you a hot bath. Get you clean robes. I can…" she released him back down onto the bed. "No use talking about it. Let's just do it."

"Still a woman of action, I see."

And there it was. There he was.

"Always. You know me better than that."

Anders smiled, but on his thin face, it looked more like a cringe.

"Rest. I'll fetch you when the basin is full."

Mahariel rose and went to her washroom, exerting herself over the pump until the water that rose up to the tub was scalding hot. She put the stopper in the drain and filled the bath with clear, hot water. It was always tinged with a hint of sulfur from the springs, but Mahariel had learned to find it an almost comforting scent. They had given her dried rose petals to scent her bath, but she prefered the earthy tang of the rock from where the water was drawn. The rose petals smelled like a funeral. The sulfur smelled like the earth, like a place that was alive.

Beside the tub, she placed a rough brush and a thick, creamy bar of soap.

She went back to the bedroom and found Anders sitting up, fumbling with the closures on his robes. He looked embarrassed. Mahariel hadn't noticed it when she'd held his hand, but his fingers seemed unable to uncurl. It had seemed almost natural when he was lying down, fingers curled gently into fists, but now she realized he could not correct the curve without some difficulty. She smiled easily.

"Let me help you. I seem to recall I've done this before." She sat next to him on the bed and slowly removed each layer of clothing, throwing them into a pile that she would discard. With each layer he seemed to grow thinner, older; she could have counted his ribs, balanced plates on his hip bones, carried water in the hollow in his neck. And all of his skin was cool, unnaturally so, except for the heat in his head, the sweat on his brow. He shook gently but perspired. Mahariel had not seen someone so visibly unwell in a very long time.

Slowly he swung his legs over the bed and stood. He took his time, but he was steady, and that gave Mahariel a small spark of hope.

"This way, string bean," she chided. He tried to laugh his easy laugh. It came out like a cough, a gasp, but it escaped his chest, and Mahariel was glad for it.

She helped to lower him into the bath and handed him the scrub brush and soap.

"Think you can manage it or shall I wash you like a child?"

"Hey now, be nice. I'm a fugitive. You should be happy I'm alive."

Her breath caught in her chest, came out in a halting way.

"You don't have the faintest idea," and she knelt, and pressed her mouth hard against his, tangling her fingers in his matted hair. Quickly, though, she broke away, but held his face in her hands for a moment, tracing the line of his cheekbones with her thumbs. They were more pronounced than ever, and just below them was tangled a brassy beard, but they were his, all the same.

"I'll be right back. I'll get you new clothes. I'll bring you something to eat."

She rose, and started to walk away.

"Mahariel. Lyna," he called, and she stopped.

"Hm?"

"I love you."

Her lips parted uneasily.

Sensing her hesitation, Anders turned to his grooming. "I… um…." he swallowed back his words. "Could you also bring me some scissors? I haven't seen myself in months but I have this feeling that I look ridiculous."

Mahariel took a breath, turned back to the doorway. "You wouldn't believe."