It took longer to bathe and dress and—in Tasia's words—make herself presentable than Kiara would have liked. She fidgeted, wanting to see her sister, until Tasia rapped her over the head with her hairbrush and ordered her to sit still or this will take all bloody afternoon.
Startled by Tasia's forcefulness, Kiara sat still.
She wasn't precisely surprised when she found Amelle's room empty, the fine silken coverlets on the bed clearly unrumpled by anything even so brief as a nap. A pang of worry made her stomach swim with momentary nausea, and she wondered if she shouldn't have impressed upon her sister just how dangerous things could still be, until the cancer of Jessamine was completely cut from the palace. Maisie—poor, deluded Maisie—had been but one pawn, and she'd done damage enough that the entire palace would feel it. Kiara blinked back tears when she thought of Elias.
Yet it wasn't even the danger from without that had Kiara most worried about her sister. Amelle was powerful—she knew that, she'd always known that—but even powerful mages had to rest. And powerful mages who'd been under the influence of powerful poisons certainly had even more need of recuperation. She heard her father chiding her in her head, and grimaced. What am I meant to do? Hit her over the head?
The silence that followed was a thoughtful one.
With a sigh, Kiara turned from Amelle's empty room and headed down the hallway. Kinnon fell in, but for once she didn't resent the escort.
A brief touch from Amelle in the courtyard had put Kinnon's head to rights and healed the small cut on his neck, but as he walked beside Kiara now, there was no mistaking the rounded shoulders and troubled demeanor. She'd never seen him so silent, so melancholy. Shame hung on him like a suit of ill-fitting armor.
"It wasn't your fault," she said at last.
Kiara took three steps before she realized Kinnon had stopped abruptly. The knight was biting his bottom lip, staring at her with bruised, wounded eyes. "I know what you're trying to do, my lady," he choked out. "But whose fault was it, if not mine?"
"Maisie's," Kiara replied without hesitation.
Kinnon shook his head, one hand clenched around the hilt of his sheathed blade. "You don't understand. I've known her since we were children. We trained together. We joined the guard together. We've been—we were—don't try and make me feel better about it, my lady. I should have known. But I was too busy making japes and feeling proud of my accomplishments to notice anything was wrong. And the Captain paid the price."
He was an archer. What was he thinking?
"It wasn't your fault," Kiara repeated firmly.
Kinnon's expression twisted. "She was my partner. I thought I knew her."
With a sigh, Kiara stepped close to the knight and laid one hand on his armored arm. She could feel the tension, the guilt, rolling off him in waves, and he would not meet her eyes. "Listen to me," she said. "I understand. I understand completely. It's always hardest when—Kinnon, look at me."
When he did, his eyes shone with tears. She felt an echoing prickle in her own. "Sometimes you think you know someone and then it turns out you didn't have the slightest idea who they really were. You share meals and drinks and laughter, you fight back to back, you speak your secrets and hopes and dreams and think they'll be safe." And then they blow up the chantry. Kinnon's eyes widened slightly, and she wondered if he was putting things together, lining things up in his head. Anders, you bloody bastard. "Maisie betrayed you as much as she betrayed Sebastian, or me, or Elias, or Starkhaven. Her mistakes are not yours."
"But, my lady, after everything—"
Kiara patted his arm gently. "I don't know what's going to happen now, Kinnon. I don't think anyone ever really knows what's going to happen. But I will tell you this: as long as I'm in Starkhaven, I hope you'll be at my back. I wouldn't have anyone else."
At first Kinnon said nothing. He seemed to take her words in and turn them over. Then, at last, his shoulders straightened and he saluted her crisply. "It is an honor, my lady."
If only it were so easy to fix all the damage done today.
When she reached Fenris' room, Kiara pushed open the door quietly, though it soon became apparent she could have barged in on the back of a horse, swinging a sword overhead, and she would not have disturbed the room's occupants. Amelle was sitting in a chair, but she'd fallen forward and her torso was sprawled on the bed. She was sound asleep, eyelashes fluttering and lips slightly parted. Even asleep, her sister was holding tight to Fenris' hand.
Fenris himself looked no different. Whatever healing magics Amelle had employed already had done nothing to ease the tortured breathing that was a hallmark of Maker's Light poisoning. Moving to the other side of the bed, Kiara sat gingerly on the edge and reached over to brush the white hair away from Fenris' brow. It merely fell back as soon as she pulled her fingers away, the fine strands cascading down to cover his forehead and his eye. Stubborn, she thought. Like you, old friend.
Fenris' breath wheezed in and out. Kiara echoed the pattern, and it wasn't until she realized her own chest was burning that she forced herself to breathe normally again.
Kiara hadn't planned to sleep, but when she leaned her head back against the headboard and closed her eyes, the exhaustion of the past two days—oh, and the morning of horror, when everything had changed—caught up with her, and she found herself unable to fight the darkness that came swooping in to claim her.
#
"I can help you. I can bring you to the one you seek."
The demon's clawed hands followed the curves of its full breasts slowly, deliberately, as its near-melodic voice like honey and velvet and wine poured into Amelle's ears and filled her mind. She wondered with the sort of dispassionate detachment so common to dreaming, if it was the same demon that had crooned to her in the darkness of Jessamine's dark, little room.
"I don't want your help," she said, stepping away, shaking her head. "And you can't help me anyway."
"Oh, but I can," it purred. "He is very deep in the Fade. He seeks you. He wants you. I can take you to him. I can bring you all you desire."
Amelle laughed, a harsh bark of noise barely laughter at all. "You have no idea what I desire, demon. Now, go—I want nothing you can give me."
It smiled at her, full, dark lips revealing too many sharp teeth. It stank of cloying perfume, pleasant at first, but soon overwhelming. It smothered. It choked. Like desire itself, the demon was appealing from a distance. Once you drew closer you saw it for what it was, but by then it was too late.
"I know too well, little mage. I know all you desire. I know your deepest thoughts, your fantasies. I can take you to him. I can give him to you. You must only—" The demon stopped and stared, narrowing its pitch-black eyes. "You are smiling."
"You can't give him to me. He is not yours to give."
With a shiver and a start, Amelle jerked awake. Her cheek rested against Fenris' bed, his hand still clutched tightly in her own. She blinked once, then twice, letting the vestiges of the dream dissipate like smoke. She rubbed her nose and for a moment the tickle of spicy, musky perfume remained, but almost as quickly as she recognized it, it was gone. She had no idea how long she'd been asleep—long enough to shift the shadows in the room and stiffen her neck.
It had also been long enough for Kiara to come looking for her. And her sister was clearly every bit as exhausted as Amelle had been, for she leant against the headboard, dozing, her head tilted to one side. She was also snoring softly. To own the truth, Amelle recognized the sound of the snore before she recognized the woman making it. Oh, it was Kiara sure enough, but a Kiara wearing a ridiculously fine, silken confection of a gown, and with hair more elaborately pinned than anything Amelle had seen her wear before. Looking at her sleeping sister, Amelle found the splendid rooms and guard escort and even Jessamine's broad declarations of Prince Sebastian's intended began to seem more… real.
Not wanting to wake her sister, Amelle stood up and stretched once before resettling herself upon the bed. She ran her thumb over one of Fenris' dark eyebrows, then let her fingers linger by his temple before wandering into his hair. His lids twitched and fluttered and Amelle felt a pang: he was in the Fade.
He is very deep in the Fade. He seeks you.
Amelle closed her eyes and leaned forward, dropping a kiss against his temple. "I'm here, Fenris," she whispered by his ear. "I'm right here. I'm not leaving you. I swear it. So don't you leave me."
With that, she settled back, taking care not to jostle the bed and wake Kiara. Then she placed her hands upon Fenris again, and once more called upon the power of the Fade, channeling her energy into power and light, manifesting it into slender blue-white threads that sank silently into the elf's skin. Amelle wasn't sure how many minutes had passed in this fashion, but the sound of Kiara's voice, husky with sleep, was enough to startle her and make the healing light stutter out.
"…You should be resting."
Amelle smiled a little, folding her hands in her lap. "I did rest. I feel better now."
Kiara's eyes narrowed shrewdly at her and Amelle shrugged. "I can rest more later."
Her sister didn't reply. Instead, she looked down at Amelle's hands. "Mely… what did Cullen mean? About the nosebleeds? What did he mean about that?"
It was pointless to try and hide the sheepish expression and Amelle sighed. "It's… a long story."
"Something happened while we were gone."
A short, dry laugh puffed past her lips. "Oh, something happened all right." And so Amelle told her. Everything. Almost everything. By the time she was finished, Kiara was cursing Meredith Stannard all over again. If the woman was walking with the Maker — something Amelle very seriously doubted — whatever remained of her ears were very likely burning.
Afterward, Kiara rubbed at her temples and almost looked as though she meant to push her hands through her hair—until, of course, her hands met the pins. Scowling at her fingers as though they'd betrayed her, she said quietly, "I wish I'd destroyed that blasted idol the minute we first laid eyes on it. Every bloody thing about it felt wrong."
Amelle could hardly disagree with her there. "If it makes you feel better, I do believe we have actually seen the last of it now."
Amelle followed Kiara's gaze as her sister took in Fenris' paralyzed body. "When—in the square—I would have shot him. I thought he was trying to kill you," she said, her voice thickening even as it grew distant with the memory. "Cullen stopped me; he said he'd seen Fenris do something similar before. I…" Kiara peered at Amelle through her fringe. "I can't help noticing you left that out of your story."
Swallowing hard, Amelle ducked her head and looked down at Fenris. "It was… no, you're right. Fenris can… it's the lyrium. What Cullen and I did in the spring used power like you can't imagine. I thought I'd brought enough potions, but they ran out far too quickly." She peered at her sister through her bangs and shook her head. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Kiri. It wasn't just the power. It was trying to control the power in the presence of a templar doing that thing templars do. It was bloody exhausting. And then Fenris… well, you saw. It was like that, only with less clawed gauntlet and more… I don't know. Life-saving tenderness." She looked down at his hand before gently pulling it into both of her own.
Kiara went very quiet then. She drew her knees as close to her chest as her voluminous skirts would allow and laid her cheek upon them. "Amelle," she said at last, very softly, "if I'd known. If I'd had the faintest inkling…"
"I know," Amelle replied. "You would have stayed. But, Kiri, you would have gotten sicker and sicker there, like Aveline. And… and Maker only knows what would have happened here. It's… okay now. At least that part. It's okay."
Kiara reached out and touched Fenris' shoulder, running a fingertip up the lyrium-marking there. "I wish I could tell him how… I wish I could thank him."
Amelle bit down on her tongue, hard, trying to change the tenor of her pain from something so brutally emotional to something physical, something real and concrete and momentary. "I still have three days," she ground out. "I have time to try."
Kiara's expression was so sad Amelle had to turn away. "It's the nature of the poison, Mely. He'll die in three days. Sebastian was only trying to prepare you."
She tried, but didn't quite succeed in keeping the accusation out of her tone. "You didn't die."
Kiara winced, anxiously folding her hands into the fabric of her skirts. "I… I got the antidote in time. It's the only way. I think… I think Jessamine may have been keeping me under, afterward, but I did get it. Fenris—"
"Kiara, stop!" Amelle snapped, burning with anger so sudden and so absolute she was forced to release Fenris' hand lest she inadvertently burn him. "Don't… don't you dare give up on him. Maker knows I'm not. Maybe he'll—" Amelle couldn't make herself say the words maybe he'll die, her throat threatening to close off the sentiment entirely, but she forced the rest of the words forward through gritted teeth. "And maybe he won't, but there will be no grieving. Not yet. Do you understand me? Not yet! Not ever if I have my way!"
Kiara blinked, her eyes wide. When comprehension began to dawn there, Amelle wished she could take her words back, wished she could bury them and forget about them and pretend they'd never been spoken. "Oh, Maker," Kiara whispered, her voice breaking, "you… Mely, you're in love with him."
She didn't know what to say to that — what could she say to that? Amelle hadn't even uttered the word, hadn't even allowed herself to think it amidst everything—but it was true, wasn't it? And now her own silence did nothing to mitigate the truth of Kiara's words. Nothing she could say, no means of deflection, no silly quip would distract her sister from the realization she'd just stumbled over. Amelle found her sight suddenly blurring with tears. She looked down at Fenris again. His breathing was so labored, rasping in and out, and there was nothing she could do about it. A sob built and tightened and rose in her chest, and she pushed it down, swallowed it back, blinking rapidly as she stared at the slack hand she still dared not touch just yet.
"You… you do." She paused. "Don't you?"
Amelle shrugged, not looking up. Then she gave a miserable nod. "I… made a mess of things," she answered shakily as more tears fell. "And then he—and I—I can't… I can't… lose him, Kiri. I can't. He has to know—I have to… make it right."
When she looked up through damp lashes, Kiara's expression was filled with such aching sorrow that Amelle felt her entire body tighten with sobs again. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and bowed her head, staring at Fenris' hand, wishing more than anything it would twitch, or that his tattoos would glow — some hint he wasn't simply going to extinguish like a candle left to gutter out. He didn't deserve that. No one deserved that.
Well, almost no one.
"I think," Kiara began, scooting closer and working her hand into Amelle's. Reluctantly, Amelle let her sister take her hand, and it felt so calloused and warm and reassuring Amelle was struck by how much she'd missed her sister, and how much she'd been certain she'd never have a moment like this again. "I think, if what happened this morning is any indication, he already knew."
"You weren't there," she said dully. "You don't know—"
"Then tell me."
Remembering her hubris, Amelle felt a flush of shame wash over her and she closed her eyes, shaking her head. But Kiara squeezed her hand tightly.
"Tell me, Amelle. Plea—"
"His memories." Once those two words had been loosed, the rest came out in a torrent. "Fenris' memories weren't lost to trauma, they were suppressed by a spell. Danarius suppressed them. I thought I—I thought it was just trauma. I thought I could heal it. I didn't know it would—it all came… he… Fenris left, and I—I—he had to be so angry at me, I thought, Kiri. Magic all over again — it took his memories away and—"
"And gave him back something he thought he'd never have again. How can you think he was angry?"
Amelle laughed bitterly, wiping her sleeve across her eyes. "Whatever he remembered, Kiara," she said with a sniff, "it wasn't good. You didn't see his face. I wish I'd never—I should have left well enough alone. Maybe the spell would've faded on its own in time, allowing the memories to come back slowly."
Kiara's expression was one of naked incredulity. "You really think Danarius' magic would've allowed for that?"
"I don't know!" cried Amelle. "It's possible!"
"All right. All right, so you… he left, like you said. Then what?"
"Then I got the letter from Jessamine and…" Her face burned hotter.
With a look of long-suffering, her sister sighed and shook her head. "…You tried to leave him behind."
"Yes," she said, in a tiny voice, looking down again.
Kiara exhaled something that was midway between a snort and a laugh. "And now you're sitting here cursing him for following."
"No, it's… On the trip here, I thought… I thought perhaps if I had the opportunity to speak with him, we could… I could apologize. I was…"
"Waiting for the right time."
Again Amelle nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
"Oh, Mely…"
"So… so I have to—I have to try. I don't know what I can do, I don't know if what I'm doing will work, but I do know I can't stand to see him like this. I can't stand to do nothing. And, Maker help me, if he—" her throat tightened and she swallowed hard. "Maker forbid, if he dies…"
If Fenris died, then whether it was vengeance or not, Amelle was going to make that woman pay, regardless of what Sebastian had to say on the matter.
Again Kiara squeezed her hand, and when Amelle looked up into her sister's eyes, she saw reassurance and determination and a flinty echo of anger there.
"I don't think Sebastian will be lenient with her, if that's what you fear," Kiara said. "She will pay for what she's done. It's only… politics. He must start as he means to go on, and his position was precarious to begin with…"
"It's so much easier when you can just knock heads together, isn't it?" Amelle asked.
"Oh, infinitely," Kiara agreed, smiling faintly. "I am awfully glad I managed to wriggle out of the Viscountcy every time someone mentioned it."
Amelle pursed her lips thoughtfully. "But you agreed to be Princess, here."
Kiara's smile turned so brittle Amelle almost wished she hadn't spoken at all. But then Kiara shook her head a little and replied, "It's mostly been choosing draperies and avoiding getting my feet stepped on whilst dancing. If I'd been Viscount, I'd've had to do all the real work."
"That Sebastian does?"
Kiara nodded as she turned her head, ostensibly to look toward the window. Amelle didn't miss the way her sister's cheeks paled, and she felt the sudden tremor in the hand she still held. "I need to talk to him."
"He loves you, Kiri," Amelle pressed. "I don't know if you realize but he's… he's loved you a long time. A… a very long time."
"It doesn't matter," Kiara retorted at once, though not without sorrow. "Politics again."
"Of course it matters—"
"No, it really doesn't."
"Kiara—"
Kiara looked at her—really looked at her. "You think I'm just being difficult, but I swear to you I'm not. They didn't trust me to begin with, and they'll trust me even less, now. For every Joff or Garreth Grayden there are half a dozen who see only the Champion of Kirkwall trying to scrabble for yet more power. Jessamine knew that much was true when she said it. Things are already too unstable. Sebastian can't risk alienating half his court over something like this."
"Then you do need to talk to Sebastian," Amelle replied. "Because you'll only keep making yourself miserable and beating yourself up until you know. For sure." Her eyes flickered down to Fenris again. "Go on. You'll know where to find me."
Kiara sighed, rising from the bed and vainly attempting to shake the wrinkles from her skirt. "I'm going to have food sent. Please promise me you'll eat it."
"Throw in a pot of tea and we'll call it a deal."
Kiara nodded and almost smiled. At the doorway, however, she paused, and Amelle saw fresh tension in the lines of her shoulders and the curve of her spine. "Amelle," she said quietly. "The things I said to you—the way I acted—that I turned my weapon on you… I want you to know… you need to know how sorry I am."
"You were unwell, Kiara," Amelle replied. "We neither of us knew it, but—"
"So you say," Kiara interrupted. "And… and I do believe you, but I know… those things I said, they didn't come from nothing. I was hurt and I was angry and I was afraid, and for a little while I let those things mean too much." Her sister glanced toward Fenris and then fixed her gaze once again, unflinchingly, on Amelle. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, because I love you, little sister, and all I've ever wanted was to see you healthy and happy. I didn't realize it was actually me standing in the way of that, sometimes."
Amelle stood, clasping her hands in front of her and took a few steps toward her sister. "I said horrible things too — while perfectly well, mind you — and…" She took a deep breath and let it out. "All I could think about — when I could think, at least — over the past few days was all I'd never get to tell you. You're my sister. I love you, too. And, Maker, if you can forgive the stupid things I said in anger, I can forgive the stupid things you said while impaired by the dust of a corrupted lyrium idol." She rushed forward then and hugged Kiara, hard. "Go. Talk to Sebastian," she whispered, kissing her sister's cheek. "I'll be here. I'll be fine right here."
Kiara pulled back, letting out a little sigh. "Don't—"
"Overdo it? You already know I will. Go talk to your prince."
"He was never mine."
"He's always been yours, Kiri. Go. Don't…" She hesitated, glancing back at the Fenris' still form. "Don't let things go unsaid. Never let things go unsaid."
Reaching out and giving Amelle's hand a final squeeze, Kiara glanced briefly at the bed then looked back. Kiara's smile was melancholy and wry, exhausted and fond, all at once and, reluctantly, she left, closing the bedroom door behind her. Soon, the soft echo of her footsteps against marble floors faded away.
Amelle walked back to the bed and sat. "I will fight for you," she said. "No matter the prognosis. No matter the odds."
With that, she brought her hands up, letting the healing magics flare to life once again.
#
Kiara made it as far as Sebastian's office before she just… stopped. Indeed, she stopped so very abruptly that Kinnon, following at her heels, nearly bowled into her. The sound of surprise he made was something like a yelp—a very high-pitched, girlish yelp—but she was too distracted even to poke fun at him.
The door was closed. That had never stopped her before; all she had to do was raise a hand to knock. She didn't. Instead, she stared until the grain of the wood started to go blurry and she realized Kinnon had said her name several times.
"My lady?" he said when she turned to face him. "Lady Kiara? Are you—?"
"No," she said. "No, we'll just wait here for a moment. Maybe he's not here. There's no guard. He'd have a guard, right? I don't want to—I just want to wait. For a moment."
To his credit, Kinnon nodded as if her request was perfectly reasonable. Without asking any questions, he stood at her side and waited. For a great deal longer than a moment.
By the time Kiara had wrestled her courage into place and was reaching to knock, the door opened and Sebastian stood on the other side. He looked tired, and she jerked her hand back down to her side before it could betray her by reaching up to push the hair away from his brow. He'd removed his armor, but still wore the morning's filthy clothing. There was a smudge of blood by his left ear. For an awkwardly long moment he stared at her, and she stared back at him.
Then, confused, he asked, "Have you been… out here long?"
"No," she lied. She didn't look back at Kinnon, but heard the knight swallow. "Can we—?"
"We need to talk," Sebastian said at the same time. Shaking his head a little, he continued, "I was coming to find you."
"Here I am," she replied, utterly failing at the flippancy she attempted. He frowned, clearly concerned, but she only forced herself to smile.
When he stepped backward, gesturing for her to enter, she walked past him with head high and heart thudding. The door closed, leaving Kinnon in the hall. Kiara moved toward the hearth, but Sebastian stepped in front of her, reaching out to lay a hand on her shoulder. "I know how Fenris fares, but how is your sister?" he asked, all anxiety. She couldn't bear the tenderness in his eyes, or the gentleness of his touch. All she wanted was to lean in, but instead she ducked and spun away, seating herself in one of the chairs near the fire.
"She's… physically well."
Sebastian lingered where she'd left him. "I-I wanted to talk with you before you saw her. I saw something in her face. It could be nothing, it could be merely one-sided, but I think—"
"Fenris, you mean." Kiara snorted lightly, folding her hands tight in her lap. "Keen observer that I am, it took several blunders and her lost temper to put those pieces together." She swallowed, hating the way she sounded, hating the bitter taste of the words in her mouth.
At this, he crossed the room and took the chair opposite hers, but he did not try to touch her again. She found herself torn between disappointment and gratitude. "You know, don't you?" she asked quietly. "They'll never accept me now."
"Kiara…"
"We were dishonest. That's my fault. I know you… I know you didn't want to be. And if we'd said something before Jessamine got the chance… it might have been hard, but it wouldn't have been a weapon. Jessamine knew, Sebastian. She knew. Maisie, I suppose. And now it's all broken."
"Perhaps we had not yet announced a formal engagement, but—"
Kiara wrapped her arms tightly around herself, biting the end of her tongue to keep from crying. "Even those who see the ruse for what it was… my sister is a mage. I'm… I'm a Fereldan refugee. Is that what you want for Starkhaven? Is that the legacy you want to leave? When you look at what I've done—when you hear someone like Jessamine tell the tale—I'm just a mercenary."
"Jessamine and her tales change nothing."
Kiara squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. "That's not true, Sebastian. Ask Varric. Ask Varric how a tale whispered in the right ears—or the wrong ones—can change history. You're Prince of Starkhaven. Your marriage should bring stability to an unstable realm, not serve to tip it even more out of balance. Every one of those noble families who submitted a daughter for your consideration will speak against me, and they'll have ammunition that cannot simply be brushed aside as rumor or hearsay."
When Sebastian did not immediately offer a reply, Kiara hazarded a glance his way and immediately wished she hadn't. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the floor between his feet. He looked defeated. "Tell me," he said, without looking up at her, "is it the nobility's censure you fear? Truly? Is it civil unrest or wagging tongues? Or is it only that I asked of you something you were neither ready nor willing to give?"
"That's not fair."
He raised his eyes to hers, and she sat back hard, startled by the rawness of the emotion there. "Is it not? Forgive me for being unfair, then, because I have to know, Kiara."
"You tell me something, then," she retorted, too sharply. When Sebastian raised a weary eyebrow she asked pointedly, "What does Corwin say?"
As clearly as she'd ever seen one of her arrows fly straight and true to hit a bull's-eye, Kiara saw the words she spoke hit Sebastian. He flinched, and his brow furrowed as if in pain, but he did not immediately answer.
"He must have an opinion," Kiara pressed. "If you are so unwilling to speak it, I know what that opinion must be. You have trusted him in everything else; why would this instance be different?"
Still Sebastian held his tongue, though she could see emotion and reason warring on his face. Pulling herself from the chair, she knelt at his feet and took his cold hands in hers. "I love you," she said. "But I have come to love Starkhaven, too. And because I love it, I know I'm wrong for it. I… it's like you said. I want to see Starkhaven a place of peace, a haven. I want to see you rule over such a place. But peace? And me? I've been running for more than seven years, Sebastian, and always, always death and destruction follow on my heels."
"Then stop running."
"And let the Divine follow me here? Bring holy war to your very doorstep?"
"You have no reason to believe the Most Holy will blame you. Anders was the one who set fire to the world."
"And I was the Champion he followed."
Sebastian grimaced, but didn't pull away. Rather, he held her hands tighter.
Bowing her head, Kiara said, "It was folly for me to think I could stay."
"Kiara…"
She swallowed hard, fighting the tears. She knew she would have to leave quickly, before she was overcome by them. "After Fenris… and… and after Jessamine…"
"No. You are still—you're an Amell. You are—Kiara, don't."
"Ask your court," she whispered. "Ask Corwin. Ask the Revered Mother. They know what I know, and what you…" She tugged her hands from his grip and rose to her feet. "It's not you, Sebastian. These weeks… this time—I should have thought through the consequences sooner, that's all. I should have known."
"Kiara, you cannot—"
"I can," she said firmly, already heading toward the door at half a run. "And I must. Your Highness."
When the door shut, Kinnon made no remark about her tears. He only handed her a handkerchief and fell in, her silent protector.
