The lamplight flared and flickered sharply despite the lack of moving air. It was a sure sign that the oil was almost utterly consumed. Consumed like my energy, the bearded man regarding it thought pensively. Consumed like my hope. He slumped in his chair and stared into the dying flame until it faded away into darkness. Only the fire burning across the room lit the comfortable study. Its light cast the man's face into shadows, somehow emphasizing the sense of grief and despair radiating from him.
After an interminable amount of time passed, King Zachary finally hauled himself to his feet and replenished the oil in the desk lamp himself. He did not feel like an interruption in his brooding even for one of his many unobtrusive servants. He re-lit it with a coal from the fireplace after trimming the wick. The crystal base sent shards of brilliant light flashing across the polished surface of the desk. Now bright and steady, it illuminated the worn leather journal laying open. Rider Yates' clear hand delineated the horrors and terrors of the expedition's journey into Blackveil Forest.
Here – a map and measurements of the Avenue of Light and visible landmarks . There – vivid descriptions of the twisted territory surrounding the travelers and their dangers. A perfect drawing of a hummingbird in mid-flight occupied the corner of one page. It seemed perfectly normal until one read the passage describing it and then noticed what could only be blood dripping from its' beak. Although he had read the entries twice over now, Zachary slowly leafed through the journal yet again. Dirt and blood and minor tears marred more than one page; a testament to their struggle through the hostile forest. It was obvious when Yates lost his vision. His precise entries were replaced by Karigan's scrawling ones. Her hand was neat enough until it came to maps and drawings. Somehow they managed to elongate or compress themselves in weird places. It was clear that art was not the strong point of Rider Sir G'ladheon, although her notations were clear and seemed precise.
His lips quirked up in the slightest smile. The king's fingers turned over another page and hesitated. The left hand side was a series of thumbnail sketches of everyone in the Blackveil expedition. In one corner, Graelalea held a long feather. Just under her was a beautiful, delicate Eletian face. The label under it read "Hana" and behind her was the vague impression of a plant. Another corner held a desperate looking Lieutenant Grant holding his arm. There was just the hint of writhing motion underneath the edge of an unraveling bandage.
The entire right side of the page was covered in a sketch of Karigan. She was sitting by the fire, cradling her broken wrist. Somehow Yates had captured her tendency to brood over others; Zachary could almost feel the responsibility that she had surely tried to shoulder for the well being of the others.
In the picture, she looked weary and dirty. It was no match for the reality, but even so, she was beautiful to him.
Zachary let his fingers trace lightly over the lines of her face as he finally let himself acknowledge that his Karigan may not survive the night. Silent tears trailed down his cheeks. He had known even at the time that Sherren had brought the news that Karigan lived that he should not rush to check on her, but he could not help himself. He had left behind his queen – and oh, that fact hurt to admit, even to himself – his advisers and even his Weapons in his hurry. He did not think he would ever forget the sight of Fastion laying her bloody and battered form into a bed in Menders' Wing. Twyla, the acting head Mender in the face of Destarion's demotion, made no attempt to hide the severity of Karigan's injuries. The mender had turned white as snow upon seeing that the Rider still breathed and promptly kicked everyone out with heartfelt oaths. Only Fastion was allowed to stay to help triage and clean the wounds.
Now it was almost dawn and he still refused to seek the bed holding his sleeping queen. He could not bear the thought of laying down next to Estora when Karigan was lying near death in the next wing over. Sleep would be no refuge for his desperate thoughts.
Karigan, I have failed us, he wailed inside as bittersweet memories played through his mind. She stood tall and proud as she accused him of ignoring the needs of his people upon their first private meeting. The resigned look on her face as she confronted Shawdell and Amilton...the pride as she offered herself to the Riders and his service...grief as he comforted her after the barracks burned down. The intelligence in her eyes as she stood in Captain Mapstone's stead during that formidable woman's breakdown and the longing and hurt pride warring in her expression as she handed his gifts back to him on top of the battlement. Zachary felt that every single word they had ever exchanged was engraved in his very being and each memory somehow became even more precious as he finally acknowledged that she was beyond him now that he was married.
One of his beloved terriers sensed his mood and wrapped herself around his ankle. I am here, her big brown eyes seemed to say. Her white tail gave a slow wag. I am here and I love you. I will love you forever. The film of tears in his eyes blurred everything and he sank to the floor to cradle the dog in his arms.
Karigan, I will love you forever. He sobbed silently, shoulders heaving, holding the little dog close to him and petting her as she frantically licked his face and hands.
The sky in the east had just barely started to lighten when there was a light tap on the door.
"Come," Zachary forced out. He was sure he looked awful, but at least the tears were dry. To his surprise, it was Fastion that came in and bowed. The king frowned a bit as he studied his Weapon. The man was as expressionless as ever, but weariness clung to him in the slightest slump of his shoulders and the pinched corners of his eyes. Zachary's heart clenched. "Karigan?" he whispered.
"Sire," Fastion said, "Rider Sir G'ladheon still lives and is showing signs of waking. You asked to be notified immediately."
"How is she?"
The Weapon hesitated just slightly. "She is in a lot of pain," he finally said.
Zachary wasted no time in getting to Menders', although this time he was careful to appear unhurried. It was difficult to walk with a calm sense of purpose. He had no difficultly reading between Fastion's words. There was no guarantee that Karigan would heal; in fact, given the sheer number of wounds detailed in the journal even before she shattered the looking mask, the odds were against it.
Once he got there, the king moved to stand beside her bed. "Leave me," he commanded. He had eyes only for the woman lying so still in the bed. He leaned against the door in shock. Karigan looked almost as bad as she had when Fastion carried her in. Dirt and blood clung to the strands of hair lying limply on the pillow. Her torn clothes were gone, replaced by bandages, but the exposed skin still showed faint streaks of muck. Swallowing, he moved to her side and laid his hand gently on her cheek. He started to stroke her face softly, hardly even realizing what he was doing.
"Karigan."
The Rider stirred, moaning softly. Her blue eyes seemed just a little bit darker than normal, holding a depth that spoke of mysteries that no mortal being should ever be a part of. There was death in those eyes. His hand stilled on her face and he found himself leaning in toward her helplessly.
"Karigan," he said again, frantically. "Karigan, don't leave me."
"I'm not going anywhere," she murmured. Her dark eyelashes drifted down to rest against her bloodless cheek then raised up again. This time, her eyes were clear and focused on him. "Zachary," she said. Her voice held just a hint of wonder. "Am I alive? Is this a dream?"
A smile crossed his face. "You're alive," he whispered. He caressed her face again. "You came back to me."
She started to reach for his hand but her face contorted in agony for a split second before she subsided. "I feel too rotten to be dead," she said wryly. Her lips turned up in a half-hearted grin. That, too, crumbled a second later and she struggled to sit up, this time ignoring the pain shooting through her body.
"Where's Lhean?" she gasped.
Zachary pushed her down firmly. "He'll be fine," he said soothingly. "He's in the next room."
"And Yates? What about Yates? Mornhavon had him!"
He brushed her hair away from her forehead and stroked her cheek again. She read the truth in his eyes even before he said anything and he watched despair wash over her features.
"My fault," she choked out. "It's all my fault." She closed her eyes again and turned her face away from her king. A single tear welled up in the corner of one eye.
His throat closed. "No, beloved." He couldn't seem to speak above a whisper. "No, it's not your fault. He told Lynx that before he died. He did not want you to blame yourself."
"I think I will always blame myself. What happened to the others? Do you know?" Her voice sounded small and miserable.
He gave her the bare bones of the information she wanted. When she still refused to look at him, he cradled her face in both of his hands and forced her to turn toward him. "Karigan, you did everything at my command. If anyone at all is to blame for anything that happened in Blackveil it is me."
"You weren't there! You didn't make the decisions. You didn't act upon what you saw."
"None of you would have been there at all if it were not for my determination to find out what the Eletians were up to," he said bitterly. "I cannot truly regret that since knowing anything about Mornhavon's activities is better than being utterly unprepared, but I will feel responsible for the results for the rest of my life."
There was nothing she could say to that and she didn't try. The silence between them was comfortable.
Zachary couldn't seem to make himself stop stroking her face. Underneath the lingering grit, the skin was soft to his callused fingers. Touching her seemed to help soothe his wounded soul. It felt so right, as if everything that he would ever need in his life was right there with him.
"I woke up in a tomb," Karigan said suddenly. "The lid was closed and I couldn't get out. At the very end, when I had no air and I knew I was going to die, all I could think about was you and how much I wanted to tell you that you were – are – everything to me."
His fingers tightened on her jaw, but she didn't seem to notice. Her beautiful blue eyes held his without wavering. They were full of an emotion that Zachary had never truly dared to hope for from her.
"I didn't want to die without telling you that I love you."
His heart stopped. For one instant, time itself seemed to stop. She loved him. And he was not free to love her.
"Oh, Karigan. My beloved." He leaned down to rest his forehead gently on hers. He closed his eyes for just a second in utter and complete denial of reality.
He had to tell her that he and Estora were married.
"Karigan..." his voice trailed off. He gazed into her eyes and saw that they were once again those mysterious, fathomless portals. She knew.
She reached up with her good hand to touch his wedding band.
"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "I...it isn't what I wanted." He recounted the events of his injury and its consequences as quickly as he could spit out the words. He watched the tears well up slowly in his Rider's eyes without ever spilling over and damned himself in every way he could think of for causing her more misery.
Very gently, Karigan extracted herself from his grasp. "Estora will take care of you, if you let her."
The words hit him like a dagger in the heart, but he couldn't disagree. He had already seen the uncurling tendrils of devotion in her actions and he did not have the heart to crush her emotions when he could not have the one he truly desired. He shook his head anyway.
"Karigan," he whispered in desperation.
"I love you," she said as softly.
He reached down and brushed her lips with his. She ignored the salty moisture on his lips and only reached up to press her fingers against his mouth.
"Zachary," she murmured. "I am so grateful you live."
He kissed her again, desperately, and this time she kissed him back.
"I love you," he said. He stroked her cheek again and stared into her eyes for another long moment. The tears still pooled in their blue depths, but refused to spill over onto her cheeks.
"I love you, too," Karigan smiled.
After a long, silent moment that felt like goodbye, Zachary forced himself to his feet. He didn't remember leaving Karigan. He didn't remember the long walk back to his study. All he could remember later when he was staring into the fire was the hopeless anguish in her beautiful eyes and the feel of her dirty, silky skin beneath his fingers.