Buono giorno mes amis! Oder sollte ich Guten Abend sagen? Sorry, been
doing many mock exams and since I study French, Latin, German and English,
my mind is kind of spinning with all the different lingos! Anyway, back to
what's relevant. These are the last two chapters of the story! Yes it's
true. Two for the price of one (but don't skimp on the reviews – jk!) I've
really enjoyed writing this story, even though I've been a lazy git in
regards to updating. Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed it during the
year of its existence – I love all you people! I doubt that I'll be writing
another story any time soon, though if anyone has an idea which I could
use, feel free to suggest it, since I have none. Goodbye.
Gratuities:
Horseluver
Sitting Dragon
Simi
Shieldmaiden
Skysong Moonsword
Arizona Bay
CrAzYhOrSeGiRl88
Bojanglesbiscuit
Our Final Choices
There was blackness all around. She searched vainly for even a speck of light, but al she found was pain and nausea. Groaning, she tried to block out the deafening silence that engulfed her and she suffocated under the pressure of thick air. Twin tendrils of pain fed at her temples, extending behind her eyes. It was then, as her spinning mind fought vainly to focus that fate choose to plague her suddenly with an awful medley of images of the past. Or at least she thought it was of the past; all the pictures seemed so old and distant, and yet every emotion that accompanied them was as fresh and raw as if all was happening again at that very moment. Ignoring the sadness and confusion that haunted her, she sorted through all that she saw. Some truly were old; she was six years old, fixing a splint to Mammoth's hind leg; she was ten, and her grandfather was presenting her with a new bow that he had made especially for her use; she was thirteen and was surveying with horror and fury the carnage in her home; she was burying her family and running wild and free with a pack of wolves; then the images started to change. They became newer, stronger, more poignant.
She had found an injured hawk, and was desperate because she couldn't help him; her hawk had transformed into a man; she was talking properly with animals for the first time; she was shooting Stormwings; she was trying to get through a huge magical barrier to something important on the other side; she was a hyena, chasing an emperor; she was in the Divine Realms; she was falling, falling off a cliff and he saved her, and he kissed her . . . .
Suddenly the memories, for she was sure now that this was what they were, overwhelmed her with their intensity. A terrible grief stabbed her every time she saw this tall dark man, whose image punctuated nearly every memory. She knew how a caress from his lips felt, knew intimately his own scent, knew the smoothness of his skin against hers. She remembered then the ball, and all that had happened then. His face had been the last one she had seen, and she recalled vividly the sorrow, the torment, the love, confusion and anger etched on his features. His love, her love, their love . . . .
"Numair!" The scream was scarcely a whisper as she bolted upright in her bed, her voice rusty and weak from the exertions of that night three days previous. She blinked slowly, recovering her senses, when she noted the absence of the presence of her lover next to her side. Looking around, she noticed with some bewilderment that she wasn't in her bed, nor was she in her room. Instead, she was in that room she was in when she visited the . . .Divine Realms? Oh, Gods, she really was there, and he wasn't with her – that could only mean one thing – this time she really had died.
There was grand irony after having survived the Immortals war. Her life had been stolen from her without so much as a by your leave, and there was nothing anyone could have done to have prevented it. A fierce grief tore into her heart, and Daine lowered her head into her hands and wept for her lost life, and for who her lost lover, who could hear neither her sorrow, nor her strangled pleas of love for him. It would have done him no good. Numair was the love of a past life.
*****
Alanna hurled yet another bolt of energy at the closed door, but her efforts proved futile. The door stood as firm as ever, warded heavily by spells to prevent the entry of unwanted visitors. She growled in frustration and fear as she summoned up her magic once again, desperate not to give up. She needed to get to Numair. She had taken the death of Daine very badly, as had the others, despite her previous knowledge and expectations. Of course she had known that Daine would die, and none of them would have been able to save her, but she hadn't really been prepared for the reality of it; she would never have been prepared for the awful loss of someone so young, so dear to her and so devoted to her friend, the very friend whose life she now feared had bee taken carelessly into his own hands. She couldn't lose Numair as well as Daine, she just couldn't. It would be too cruel. Wave after wave of desperation crashed through her.
"Please, Numair, please let me know that you are still with us, just a word . . ." she begged, knowing that he would not answer her.
He had crouched on the floor for more than an hour after Daine's body had disappeared. The tears had streamed down his face silently, until the well inside of him had drained dry, but still he stayed there, an effigy of grief. He had not noticed all of the guests being ushered out of the palace as quickly as possible, nor had he noticed the torment of his friends, who garnered useless comfort through each others embraces, but who had not dared to approach him. It was astounding how a broken man could still look so formidable. He had left abruptly, disappearing for two nights and a day. All had been frantic with worry, certain that in his state he would not hesitate to turn a knife on himself and drive it into his own heart in order to escape the pain. Like Alanna, they could not bear to lose him as well. He was far too precious to their hearts after the tragedy that had unfolded so cruelly. He had returned, but had spoken not a word to anyone before locking himself in his chambers. The mage would allow no-one to enter, and no sound had escaped his rooms. His strength was that of such greatness that none knew if his spells would still exist after he died, and thus their desperation to find him, to shift any guilt from his shoulders before it was too late.
Numair wouldn't leave his rooms, not even if Mithros himself summoned him. Only if Daine came back would he venture out, but only then to say goodbye, as undoubtedly she would wish to do. The badger's message and warning was clear: if offered the chance to become a deity, and to be reunited with the parents she had longed for so much, who I their right minds would choose a mortal life, to soothe the grief of a guilty mage?
*****
Daine had cried herself to sleep, exhausted by her tears. When the dawn broke, she had been awake, and not far long afterwards her mother had come in and soothed her distraught daughter with words of comfort and loving embraces. Somehow her father's actions were more comforting to her mind. Weiryn stood leaning against the door frame, a look of pity and understanding on his stern face, but he made no move to try and comfort her physically. He assumed correctly that it would be to no avail if he were to do so. No explanations were needed, they all knew what had happened. It had been later in the day when Sarra delivered the news.
She knocked gently on the door and without waiting for an answer, she entered, finding her Daine curled up in a foetal position at the end of the bed in an attempt to protect herself from her emotions. Sarra's heart broke at the sight of such melancholy, but Weiryn had warned her off trying to do anything about it. She sat down at the end of the bed and clasped the girl's hand in her own. She did understand to some extent how Daine was feeling – after all she had not seen Weiryn for fourteen years after the conception of their daughter – but the profound sadness which darkened Daine's very character. 'Love is a curse,' she thought, not without some resentment. Sighing, he started speaking softly.
"The Gods have requested our presence in the Hall of the Assembly. We are to go there immediately, cariad." The only response she received was a sniff and a muffled "I don't care" from beneath the pillows. "Oh, but you should, bach. It's about your future. There are some very important decisions t'be made." With no small amount of coaxing Sarra got Daine out of the bed and dressed her in a simple shift of purple linen, fussing over as she was wont to do when Daine was younger.
The girl stared blankly at her mother. Didn't she understand? She could care less about her future right now. All she wanted was her past, the life she had created for herself, her friends, the People, her love, Numair. Sarra didn't understand the hole that had been ripped into the place where her heart had once lain, beating her life pulse within her chest. Now, it lay on the ground somewhere, shattered, shredded, useless. Perhaps it would be better to distance herself from her past. What is lost cannot still be found, not this time. Pushing the ache to the back of her mind, she tilted her head resolutely and forced a determined, indifferent expression onto a face still haggard with sorrow. Only the redness around her eyes spoke of the tears she had allowed to fall. Daine raised her empty gaze to her mother, who stood wringing her hands nervously a couple of metres away.
"We don't want to be keeping them waiting, do we, Ma?"
*****
The hall was already full by the time they had arrived there. The Gods of the humans and the Gods of the People were all there, eager to hear this matter be laid to rest at last. The minds of many were stirred with pity for the girl who had been made to suffer so much recently due to the unpredictability of magic and divine blood. Hundreds of pairs of eyes watched intently as the girl in question traversed across the room alongside her parents. The Gods saw the mask she wore, but they knew better. They always knew better.
Daine couldn't help but be awed by the sight of the hall itself, even though she was uncomfortably aware of the surveillance of the huge gathering of gods. The roof was so high, it hurt her neck to just glance at it. The walls and the floor were made of marble, the black stone of the ground a sharp contrast to the white which surrounded on all four sides. Upon the walls hung delicate tapestries, which seemed as though they had been woven from life and truth themselves, depicting the histories of every god and every mortal who had ever drawn breath. The mortal tapestries were charred at one end, an ugly reminder of a fleeting lifetime. At one end o the room, upon a grand, raised dais stood two magnificent thrones of gold, to which the thrones of the majesties of Tortall paled in comparison. Elegant carvings were engraved on the sides of the thrones, but the real majesty was to be found in those who were seated upon these creations. Daine's breath caught in her throat as her gaze fell upon the Great Mother Goddess and on Mithros himself. She was by far the most beautiful creature that had ever existed, easily outshining Thayet with her impossibly tall slender frame, her piercing green eyes, the flawless ivory skin and the ebony locks which cascaded down her back. Mithros was equally impressive, with his darkened skin standing out against the white tunic he wore, and the shining golden armour he had gird himself with. His weapons lay to one side, but the fire and power in his obsidian glare rendered the need for such items useless. When he spoke, she likened his voice to a roll of thunder on a clear day.
"Veralidaine Sarrasri, step forward." His command rang through the suddenly silent hall, and every pair of eyes fixed themselves once again on the girl with renewed interest. Daine obeyed, trembling slightly, but she forced herself to meet the God's stare with an audacity that may have seemed disrespectful. But, she reminded herself, this God is probably all to blame for everything that has hurt me recently. The God began speaking again.
"We have a proposition for you." The girl raised her eyebrow slightly, ignoring Mithros' scowl. A proposition? How nice. They were going to offer a choice for once. Mithros ignored her and carried on. "As I am sure you have been made aware of in your last few weeks in the Mortal Realm, due to your earlier entrance into the Divine Realms, the delicate balance between you two bloods, mortal and divine, was upset. With each power striving for dominance, you were physically weakened and sickened as a result. Naturally, the divine blood was the stronger of the two," here Mithros allowed himself a small smirk, "and thus this battle ended in your death as a mortal, and consequently your renewed presence in the Divine Realms. Do you follow me?"
Daine nodded impatiently. She knew all this already, and was hoping fervently that her hopes were not misplaced when he impressed them upon this forthcoming proposition of his.
"You now have a choice: either abandon the mortal life forever, neither living nor visiting the Mortal Realm, to become a lesser goddess and you will live with your parents, or take back this mortal life, and never cross into this realm again. Should you choose the latter option, undoubtedly you would do so for some affection you hold for a certain mortal mage, know that the moment his life flees from him, so will yours from you. You must decide whether he is worth this, or whether it would serve you better to join us, as a sister."
Daine almost stumbled back from the weight of the decisions. This was not exactly what she had been expecting. Acknowledging her need for time in this case, the Gods turned to other matters which needed to be discussed. Trying to ease out her breathing, which had become erratic as soon as she had heard all the conditions, Daine, weighed out her options. If she stayed her, she could be with her Ma again, and make up for the time that them bandits had stolen from them. She could get to know her father – finally she would have a real family, with two parents. She marvelled at the thought of being able to do magic like her mother, and at the possibility of being prayed to and helping others when they turned to her for guidance and advice. For sure, that would be a large responsibility, but all the same . . . . She could always watch her friends from the divine realms anyway, even if she couldn't visit the. What would be the point of returning? It would only cause more pain and suffering in the future, for herself as well as others, and yet, would she be content to just watch them? She loved them all so dearly, she doubted that she would be truly happy without them, and without the people. Without Thayet, and Jon, and Alanna, and Cloud and Numair. Yes, Numair. Her friend, her teacher, her love. Gods, she would miss him terribly, but maybe it would be better for him if she were to stay here; he would not have to suffer the vicious rumours of court for indulging in relationship with her, nor would he have to worry about her getting hurt during missions for Jon. Indeed, it would be crueller for him if she were to return, and disrupt his life yet again. Seeing Kitten wouldn't be a problem as the little scamp could go wherever she so desired. As she was making up her mind, convincing herself of the justifications for her actions, she felt a cold hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Gainel standing by her. Looking into his smoky eyes, in their depths she saw an image forming, like a dream, except she knew that it was happening now.
Numair was standing at his work table, grinding something into a fine powder, then dusting it into a simmering vial nearby. Gazing at his profile from side own, she was shocked to see evidence of many tears trailing down the angular plane of his cheek. His hands were shaking as he added the last two components to his concoction – shredded yew leaf and ragwort. O gods, no! She knew what he was making, for he'd told her of it not so very long ago. It was a poison, one designed to kill after a couple of hours after ingestion and the process was by no means painless. It would burn his body on the inside, allowing him to acknowledge his death before he actually died. Straining, she managed to make out the words he kept repeating to himself time and time again.
"So sorry, Daine. Love you."
Seeing those words being spoken by those sweet lips, and feeling that awful fear for his life, suddenly she felt her heart beat again, pumping not life, but love.
"Veralidaine," the booming voice of the sun-god dragged her back to the present, all the while tears were slipping from the corners of her eyes. "Have you made a choice?"
She closed her eyes briefly, praying that she was making the right decision.
"Yes."
*****
Gratuities:
Horseluver
Sitting Dragon
Simi
Shieldmaiden
Skysong Moonsword
Arizona Bay
CrAzYhOrSeGiRl88
Bojanglesbiscuit
Our Final Choices
There was blackness all around. She searched vainly for even a speck of light, but al she found was pain and nausea. Groaning, she tried to block out the deafening silence that engulfed her and she suffocated under the pressure of thick air. Twin tendrils of pain fed at her temples, extending behind her eyes. It was then, as her spinning mind fought vainly to focus that fate choose to plague her suddenly with an awful medley of images of the past. Or at least she thought it was of the past; all the pictures seemed so old and distant, and yet every emotion that accompanied them was as fresh and raw as if all was happening again at that very moment. Ignoring the sadness and confusion that haunted her, she sorted through all that she saw. Some truly were old; she was six years old, fixing a splint to Mammoth's hind leg; she was ten, and her grandfather was presenting her with a new bow that he had made especially for her use; she was thirteen and was surveying with horror and fury the carnage in her home; she was burying her family and running wild and free with a pack of wolves; then the images started to change. They became newer, stronger, more poignant.
She had found an injured hawk, and was desperate because she couldn't help him; her hawk had transformed into a man; she was talking properly with animals for the first time; she was shooting Stormwings; she was trying to get through a huge magical barrier to something important on the other side; she was a hyena, chasing an emperor; she was in the Divine Realms; she was falling, falling off a cliff and he saved her, and he kissed her . . . .
Suddenly the memories, for she was sure now that this was what they were, overwhelmed her with their intensity. A terrible grief stabbed her every time she saw this tall dark man, whose image punctuated nearly every memory. She knew how a caress from his lips felt, knew intimately his own scent, knew the smoothness of his skin against hers. She remembered then the ball, and all that had happened then. His face had been the last one she had seen, and she recalled vividly the sorrow, the torment, the love, confusion and anger etched on his features. His love, her love, their love . . . .
"Numair!" The scream was scarcely a whisper as she bolted upright in her bed, her voice rusty and weak from the exertions of that night three days previous. She blinked slowly, recovering her senses, when she noted the absence of the presence of her lover next to her side. Looking around, she noticed with some bewilderment that she wasn't in her bed, nor was she in her room. Instead, she was in that room she was in when she visited the . . .Divine Realms? Oh, Gods, she really was there, and he wasn't with her – that could only mean one thing – this time she really had died.
There was grand irony after having survived the Immortals war. Her life had been stolen from her without so much as a by your leave, and there was nothing anyone could have done to have prevented it. A fierce grief tore into her heart, and Daine lowered her head into her hands and wept for her lost life, and for who her lost lover, who could hear neither her sorrow, nor her strangled pleas of love for him. It would have done him no good. Numair was the love of a past life.
*****
Alanna hurled yet another bolt of energy at the closed door, but her efforts proved futile. The door stood as firm as ever, warded heavily by spells to prevent the entry of unwanted visitors. She growled in frustration and fear as she summoned up her magic once again, desperate not to give up. She needed to get to Numair. She had taken the death of Daine very badly, as had the others, despite her previous knowledge and expectations. Of course she had known that Daine would die, and none of them would have been able to save her, but she hadn't really been prepared for the reality of it; she would never have been prepared for the awful loss of someone so young, so dear to her and so devoted to her friend, the very friend whose life she now feared had bee taken carelessly into his own hands. She couldn't lose Numair as well as Daine, she just couldn't. It would be too cruel. Wave after wave of desperation crashed through her.
"Please, Numair, please let me know that you are still with us, just a word . . ." she begged, knowing that he would not answer her.
He had crouched on the floor for more than an hour after Daine's body had disappeared. The tears had streamed down his face silently, until the well inside of him had drained dry, but still he stayed there, an effigy of grief. He had not noticed all of the guests being ushered out of the palace as quickly as possible, nor had he noticed the torment of his friends, who garnered useless comfort through each others embraces, but who had not dared to approach him. It was astounding how a broken man could still look so formidable. He had left abruptly, disappearing for two nights and a day. All had been frantic with worry, certain that in his state he would not hesitate to turn a knife on himself and drive it into his own heart in order to escape the pain. Like Alanna, they could not bear to lose him as well. He was far too precious to their hearts after the tragedy that had unfolded so cruelly. He had returned, but had spoken not a word to anyone before locking himself in his chambers. The mage would allow no-one to enter, and no sound had escaped his rooms. His strength was that of such greatness that none knew if his spells would still exist after he died, and thus their desperation to find him, to shift any guilt from his shoulders before it was too late.
Numair wouldn't leave his rooms, not even if Mithros himself summoned him. Only if Daine came back would he venture out, but only then to say goodbye, as undoubtedly she would wish to do. The badger's message and warning was clear: if offered the chance to become a deity, and to be reunited with the parents she had longed for so much, who I their right minds would choose a mortal life, to soothe the grief of a guilty mage?
*****
Daine had cried herself to sleep, exhausted by her tears. When the dawn broke, she had been awake, and not far long afterwards her mother had come in and soothed her distraught daughter with words of comfort and loving embraces. Somehow her father's actions were more comforting to her mind. Weiryn stood leaning against the door frame, a look of pity and understanding on his stern face, but he made no move to try and comfort her physically. He assumed correctly that it would be to no avail if he were to do so. No explanations were needed, they all knew what had happened. It had been later in the day when Sarra delivered the news.
She knocked gently on the door and without waiting for an answer, she entered, finding her Daine curled up in a foetal position at the end of the bed in an attempt to protect herself from her emotions. Sarra's heart broke at the sight of such melancholy, but Weiryn had warned her off trying to do anything about it. She sat down at the end of the bed and clasped the girl's hand in her own. She did understand to some extent how Daine was feeling – after all she had not seen Weiryn for fourteen years after the conception of their daughter – but the profound sadness which darkened Daine's very character. 'Love is a curse,' she thought, not without some resentment. Sighing, he started speaking softly.
"The Gods have requested our presence in the Hall of the Assembly. We are to go there immediately, cariad." The only response she received was a sniff and a muffled "I don't care" from beneath the pillows. "Oh, but you should, bach. It's about your future. There are some very important decisions t'be made." With no small amount of coaxing Sarra got Daine out of the bed and dressed her in a simple shift of purple linen, fussing over as she was wont to do when Daine was younger.
The girl stared blankly at her mother. Didn't she understand? She could care less about her future right now. All she wanted was her past, the life she had created for herself, her friends, the People, her love, Numair. Sarra didn't understand the hole that had been ripped into the place where her heart had once lain, beating her life pulse within her chest. Now, it lay on the ground somewhere, shattered, shredded, useless. Perhaps it would be better to distance herself from her past. What is lost cannot still be found, not this time. Pushing the ache to the back of her mind, she tilted her head resolutely and forced a determined, indifferent expression onto a face still haggard with sorrow. Only the redness around her eyes spoke of the tears she had allowed to fall. Daine raised her empty gaze to her mother, who stood wringing her hands nervously a couple of metres away.
"We don't want to be keeping them waiting, do we, Ma?"
*****
The hall was already full by the time they had arrived there. The Gods of the humans and the Gods of the People were all there, eager to hear this matter be laid to rest at last. The minds of many were stirred with pity for the girl who had been made to suffer so much recently due to the unpredictability of magic and divine blood. Hundreds of pairs of eyes watched intently as the girl in question traversed across the room alongside her parents. The Gods saw the mask she wore, but they knew better. They always knew better.
Daine couldn't help but be awed by the sight of the hall itself, even though she was uncomfortably aware of the surveillance of the huge gathering of gods. The roof was so high, it hurt her neck to just glance at it. The walls and the floor were made of marble, the black stone of the ground a sharp contrast to the white which surrounded on all four sides. Upon the walls hung delicate tapestries, which seemed as though they had been woven from life and truth themselves, depicting the histories of every god and every mortal who had ever drawn breath. The mortal tapestries were charred at one end, an ugly reminder of a fleeting lifetime. At one end o the room, upon a grand, raised dais stood two magnificent thrones of gold, to which the thrones of the majesties of Tortall paled in comparison. Elegant carvings were engraved on the sides of the thrones, but the real majesty was to be found in those who were seated upon these creations. Daine's breath caught in her throat as her gaze fell upon the Great Mother Goddess and on Mithros himself. She was by far the most beautiful creature that had ever existed, easily outshining Thayet with her impossibly tall slender frame, her piercing green eyes, the flawless ivory skin and the ebony locks which cascaded down her back. Mithros was equally impressive, with his darkened skin standing out against the white tunic he wore, and the shining golden armour he had gird himself with. His weapons lay to one side, but the fire and power in his obsidian glare rendered the need for such items useless. When he spoke, she likened his voice to a roll of thunder on a clear day.
"Veralidaine Sarrasri, step forward." His command rang through the suddenly silent hall, and every pair of eyes fixed themselves once again on the girl with renewed interest. Daine obeyed, trembling slightly, but she forced herself to meet the God's stare with an audacity that may have seemed disrespectful. But, she reminded herself, this God is probably all to blame for everything that has hurt me recently. The God began speaking again.
"We have a proposition for you." The girl raised her eyebrow slightly, ignoring Mithros' scowl. A proposition? How nice. They were going to offer a choice for once. Mithros ignored her and carried on. "As I am sure you have been made aware of in your last few weeks in the Mortal Realm, due to your earlier entrance into the Divine Realms, the delicate balance between you two bloods, mortal and divine, was upset. With each power striving for dominance, you were physically weakened and sickened as a result. Naturally, the divine blood was the stronger of the two," here Mithros allowed himself a small smirk, "and thus this battle ended in your death as a mortal, and consequently your renewed presence in the Divine Realms. Do you follow me?"
Daine nodded impatiently. She knew all this already, and was hoping fervently that her hopes were not misplaced when he impressed them upon this forthcoming proposition of his.
"You now have a choice: either abandon the mortal life forever, neither living nor visiting the Mortal Realm, to become a lesser goddess and you will live with your parents, or take back this mortal life, and never cross into this realm again. Should you choose the latter option, undoubtedly you would do so for some affection you hold for a certain mortal mage, know that the moment his life flees from him, so will yours from you. You must decide whether he is worth this, or whether it would serve you better to join us, as a sister."
Daine almost stumbled back from the weight of the decisions. This was not exactly what she had been expecting. Acknowledging her need for time in this case, the Gods turned to other matters which needed to be discussed. Trying to ease out her breathing, which had become erratic as soon as she had heard all the conditions, Daine, weighed out her options. If she stayed her, she could be with her Ma again, and make up for the time that them bandits had stolen from them. She could get to know her father – finally she would have a real family, with two parents. She marvelled at the thought of being able to do magic like her mother, and at the possibility of being prayed to and helping others when they turned to her for guidance and advice. For sure, that would be a large responsibility, but all the same . . . . She could always watch her friends from the divine realms anyway, even if she couldn't visit the. What would be the point of returning? It would only cause more pain and suffering in the future, for herself as well as others, and yet, would she be content to just watch them? She loved them all so dearly, she doubted that she would be truly happy without them, and without the people. Without Thayet, and Jon, and Alanna, and Cloud and Numair. Yes, Numair. Her friend, her teacher, her love. Gods, she would miss him terribly, but maybe it would be better for him if she were to stay here; he would not have to suffer the vicious rumours of court for indulging in relationship with her, nor would he have to worry about her getting hurt during missions for Jon. Indeed, it would be crueller for him if she were to return, and disrupt his life yet again. Seeing Kitten wouldn't be a problem as the little scamp could go wherever she so desired. As she was making up her mind, convincing herself of the justifications for her actions, she felt a cold hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Gainel standing by her. Looking into his smoky eyes, in their depths she saw an image forming, like a dream, except she knew that it was happening now.
Numair was standing at his work table, grinding something into a fine powder, then dusting it into a simmering vial nearby. Gazing at his profile from side own, she was shocked to see evidence of many tears trailing down the angular plane of his cheek. His hands were shaking as he added the last two components to his concoction – shredded yew leaf and ragwort. O gods, no! She knew what he was making, for he'd told her of it not so very long ago. It was a poison, one designed to kill after a couple of hours after ingestion and the process was by no means painless. It would burn his body on the inside, allowing him to acknowledge his death before he actually died. Straining, she managed to make out the words he kept repeating to himself time and time again.
"So sorry, Daine. Love you."
Seeing those words being spoken by those sweet lips, and feeling that awful fear for his life, suddenly she felt her heart beat again, pumping not life, but love.
"Veralidaine," the booming voice of the sun-god dragged her back to the present, all the while tears were slipping from the corners of her eyes. "Have you made a choice?"
She closed her eyes briefly, praying that she was making the right decision.
"Yes."
*****