“You can’t wear those.” Hisham pointed at Jonas.

Jonas looked down at his knives.

“I bet half of Turhmos thinks you’re dead by now. Best if we keep it that way. But you riding through the country looking like... well, you, and dressing like, well, you, isn’t going to keep the illusion long. Hopefully, we won’t strike problems that need easy access to them, anyway.”

“Hopefully,” Jonas grumbled and began removing the vest.

“Braph took it.” Llew swallowed. “Braph took your knife.”

Jonas’s face clouded.

“I stuck it in him.” One of Jonas’s eyebrows shot up. “I should have pulled it out. I’m sorry, I thought he was dead.” Stupid, Llew. Neither a good soldier nor a good healer do you make.

“He didn’t give it to them last time,” said Hisham. “He had it, what, fourteen years, and he never passed it on. I’m not sayin’ I know how he thinks, but—”

“Who would he give it to?”

“You’re aware of the knife’s effect on Aenuks?” Hisham asked.

“I used it to escape Braph.” Llew lifted her hand, flexing the fully healed skin, remembering the wound that had festered.

Jonas nodded approvingly, and Hisham looked surprised for a moment. “Well, imagine a whole army of Aenuks with wounds like that,” he said.

Llew’s blood ran cold. A whole army of Aenuks with non-fatal wounds they couldn’t heal by magic, but which caused them to draw in ghi. Everything they touched would perish.

“I don’t know about you, but I think two Kara going into the heart of Turhmos’s military without a Syakaran knife, when the enemy could very well have one and use it to great effect, is kind of dumb,” said Hisham.

“And he killed you once already.” Llew threw in her two cinqa. “I won’t risk that again.” Everything she wanted to achieve would be best done with a plan, and that plan needed to be made without the threat of imminent capture or death. Plus, she’d made that promise to Merrid.

Jonas nodded. “You’re right. It’s too dangerous.”

“And you need a new shirt. Again.” Hisham rested an elbow on his horse’s saddle. “And we should cut your hair.”

Jonas stopped in the process of shoving a couple of knives into his belt and shook his head.

“Yes,” said Hisham. “Your likeness is too well known. Anything to make this journey safer...”

Jonas jutted out his jaw, fighting down his temper. Then he threw a knife to Hisham, folded his arms, and waited.

Llew looked up at the tree, bidding it farewell. Then she noticed something: a collection of seed pods dangling at the end of spindly twigs. She didn’t recall them being there previously. But they must have been, they couldn’t just appear from nowhere. She walked back to the tree and clambered up the trunk, shuffling along a branch until she could reach what she was after. She pulled a couple of bunches of the pods from the branch before shimmying back down the trunk and returning, triumphant.

Hisham had hacked off the bulk of the length of Jonas’s hair and Llew was surprised by the effect the new look had on her. She’d always thought there was something about the way Jonas’s hair framed his face that appealed, but the shorter style made him look younger, or perhaps simply his age.

Her face must have given everything away, because Jonas’s expression switched from a dark scowl to neutral in an instant, then the corners of his mouth lifted.

Llew felt sick. Before her stood her rapist’s lookalike.

Jonas’s face fell. “Llew?”

She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t move. She could hardly breathe. Jonas took a step toward her, but as his fingers brushed her shoulder, she lashed out, swiping his arm aside. She stood there, mouth open. It wasn’t Braph, so why was her skin crawling? Damn Braph. Damn Braph!

Jonas was confused and hurt; and then he understood.

“What did he do to you?” He had already guessed, and the tremor in his voice gave it away. “He is a dead man a thousand times over.”

An explosive laugh escaped Llew. “And then some.” And then she let the rest burst forth. “Maybe he’s already dead,” she said between giggles. “Maybe— Maybe he got up only to die a mile down the road.” She cackled. Cackled! Ha! She reverted to giggles and kneeled, unable to maintain her balance amid the laughter as hysteria took over. Jonas watched her with cautious relief mixed with shock. That expression was like nothing she’d ever seen on Braph’s face. Because he isn’t Braph.

Gradually she got control and stopped laughing, and let her eyes travel the length of Jonas, up, then down, catching y his horse, ready to leave. He flicked his gaze between Jonas and Llew. It was obvious he thought Llew was crazy. That made Llew laugh even harder. Maybe she was crazy. She’d been on her own so long she didn’t understand how people worked anymore. And just when she thought things were as they should be, something had to go and undo it all. She would have cried if she hadn’t cried so many tears in the last few days. What more was there but to laugh? But she was laughed out, too. Hand on her aching stomach muscles, she heaved a sigh. She was spent.

Jonas took a step closer to her again and held out a hand. She took it with gratitude. As soon as she’d heaved herself to her feet, though, he released her. They walked back to her horse comfortably enough, but things were awkward between them.

Jonas helped her up into her saddle and went to pat her knee, but he paused, his hand suspended a couple of inches from her knee, not wanting to scare her with an innocent touch. Llew reached out and pressed his hand to her knee and gave him an encouraging squeeze. Braph couldn’t keep winning. Jonas smiled up at her and she smiled back.

They kept a brisk pace despite being almost certain no one tailed them any longer. Braph had other concerns, and while Turhmos knew of Llew’s existence and might have located her trail from Duffirk, they didn’t know what she looked like, and she wouldn’t be leaving any more clues for them.

At the first town, Hisham called in to purchase a new shirt for Jonas and a covering for Cassidy. On his return, he reported a combination of celebration and trepidation. While belief in Jonas’s death removed a Quaven military advantage, the townsfolk were apprehensive of their leaders sending the country to war to take advantage of the situation.

Jonas didn’t like the chances of war, either. Llew suspected their stay in Brurun would be brief, since Jonas and Hisham would be needed in Quaver before long. And Llew... Well, Llew would be a captive.

The trio carried on, looking relatively inconspicuous apart from Cassidy’s body resting over his horse’s back. They stopped for the night in a forest clearing, and enjoyed a meal of roasted rabbit, the spoils of a brief hunting effort after sundown. Jonas and Hisham bickered like brothers over whose job it was to divide up the spoils, and not for the first time Llew wondered what it would have been like to have a sibling, or even a close friend. She supposed Kynas had been a good friend to her at one time. She missed those early years of being together, learning the craft, or simply playing. Her gaze, once more, settled on Cassidy’s still covered form now laid out on the ground, and she thought of her own father, also lying dead in the heart of Turhmos: only he was alone. It seemed no matter how much she wished she wouldn’t, she was going to cry again. She blinked back the sting of tears and sniffed.

With a joint of hot rabbit in one hand, Jonas eased down to sit beside her and, laying his other arm across her shoulders, he drew her into him.

“It weren’t your fault,” he said, and offered the oily meat to her.

She’d said those same words to him at one time, reminding him that he wasn’t at fault just because he hadn’t been at home when his wife was murdered. She didn’t know if he was talking about Braph taking her, her father dying, or even if he meant Cassidy’s passing. But she did know one thing: she had been present for them all. And yet, he was right. At least part of her wanted to believe so.

When it came time to roll out bedrolls, Jonas and Llew found themselves standing helplessly over two lots of bedding.

“You can sleep in your own, if you like, thanks to Al.”

“No, we could share,” Llew said. They’d shared a bedroll the previous night. That Jonas had barely been conscious hadn’t made a difference, surely.

Hisham shuffled into his own bedroll, unaffected by the couple’s decisions; he’d still be spending the night alone.

Jonas threw the bedroll out flat, peeled it open and invited Llew to climb in, and then he slid in behind her, fitting himself against her back. There was no doubt about it; she loved the heat. But the all too familiar blood-chill returned with each breath on the back of her neck, and while his arm draped across her waist comforted her, each muscle twitch made her whole body tense to the point she was about to abandon the sleeping arrangements altogether, when she had an idea.

She was fairly certain he hadn’t dropped off to sleep just yet, and she turned her head to whisper over her shoulder. “Would you mind if we rolled over?”

“Sure.”

They wiggled and squirmed in the confines of the bedroll. Llew had nowhere to go, being against the sealed side, and Jonas held the open side together, keeping himself from being dumped onto the freezing ground.

“Shhh.” Hisham’s overly loud, half-joking admonishment sounded across the low-burning campfire.

“Shush, yourself,” said Jonas.

Finally, facing the other way, Llew drew Jonas into her with an arm around his middle, and snuggled in close, her cheek pressed between his shoulder blades. She smiled to herself, sighed deeply and, feeling Jonas do the same, let herself settle for sleep.

The men’s path from Brurun had been a meandering one as they attempted to ensure they didn’t miss any clues to Llew’s whereabouts. Their return journey was more direct, but it still took the better part of a week to reach the Brurun border.

Winter had to take some credit for their ability to bring Cassidy home; but for the cold, they would have had to bury him in Turhmos.

The horses kicked up sprays of freezing water as they crossed the wide, shallow, and slow-flowing Juliald River marking the border, and then turned north to Rakun. Brurun was a long, narrow country; that narrowness was pretty much the only trait it shared with Aghacia. Its eastern side bordered Quaver and Turhmos, and its wildlife was completely different. Llew recognized none of the birds wading at the river’s edge or pecking at the feet of sheep and cattle, and she realized she missed Aghacia. She doubted she had much chance of returning, though, and if she did, she’d only bring trouble with her. She looked at Jonas and wondered what the future would bring. Since he’d found out what she was, he’d been tasked with keeping her safe. She assumed that meant taking her to Quaver. But what if Turhmos rose up and started a new war? Would he be called away, leaving her with people she didn’t know who likely despised her? With his child to raise on your own. No, her future still didn’t look rosy.

Jonas sensed her looking at him and gave her a smile.

Several days after crossing the border, they entered Rakun and headed straight for Lord Tovias’s estate. Unlike their expected arrival more than a fortnight earlier, the courtyard was empty apart from a couple of guards at the gate. Before they reached the stables, they heard footsteps, and Llew turned to see Anya hurtling toward them with little regard for the horses’ nerves. Luckily the latter were too exhausted, and too well-trained, to make a fuss.

Llew slid from her mount as a groom took the reins, and Anya slammed into her, taking her in a firm embrace.

“Oh, Llew. Llew. I knew they’d find you.” Anya pushed back, still gripping Llew’s shoulders. “Gaemil will be pleased,” she said in a lower voice. “I told him I couldn’t possibly marry him until I knew you were safe.”

Emylia and Aris arrived at a more leisurely pace, accompanied by another woman, a stranger to them.

“You’re getting married? When?”

“Well, not for months, of course. But I refused to pick a date until you returned. Gaemil was worried it would never happen, but I told him—” Anya slipped an arm around one of Llew’s, linking elbows, and started turning her to the estate. ”—there was no way Jonas would let you—” Anya gasped, and her arm slipped from Llew’s. She’d seen the form slumped across Cassidy’s saddle and now looked around the group, taking inventory of those before her: Jonas, Hisham, and Llew.

“Where’s Al? Where’s...” Her eyes settled on the wrapped body. “Cass.”

“The most boring meeting I’ve ever hosted closes with the news I’ll be getting married. A man couldn’t be happi— er...” Lord Tovias’s stride across the courtyard slowed to an awkward last few steps as he saw the glistening in his fiancée’s eyes. He caught her as she allowed herself to fall into his arms, weeping, and gaped at the rest of them for enlightenment.

Llew could feel her own eyes welling up, but she managed to whisper Cass’s name as Gaemil pulled Anya into him. Jonas moved closer to Llew, drew her into him and kissed her head.

“Where’s Alvaro?” Anya said, still clinging to Gaemil for support.

“He didn’t return?” Jonas asked.

“We haven’t seen him,” said Aris. “What happened?”

“Braph happened. Llew couldn’t bring Cass back, and Alvaro wasn’t too happy about it. He probably rode straight home.”

“Braph happened.” Aris scanned Jonas, Hisham, and Llew as he considered the brief report. “Well, I’m glad the rest of you are fine.”

“Me, too,” Anya managed.

“And what happened to your hair?” Aris asked.

Jonas looked accusingly at Hisham, who shrugged.

Aris let it pass and cleared his throat.

“This is Karlani.” He brought the gorgeous woman standing behind him forward. She was tall, lithe, full-breasted, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and full-lipped – and utterly breath-taking. She didn’t wear a dress but a blouse, fitting vest and shapely trousers to superb effect. “She’s traveled a long way to meet you, Jonas.”

The woman stepped forward and held out a hand. Jonas hesitated before shaking it lightly. A moment of surprise at the flimsy greeting gave way to a devastating smile. Devastating to someone in Llew’s position, anyway. Standing before this woman, Llew felt like a little girl again. Her hand hovered over her belly. But as soon as she realized she was doing it, she dropped it to her side.

“A man of few words.” The woman’s lips curled up on one side and Llew’s heart sank lower than she thought possible. Even this woman’s voice was heavenly. It was a silk cushion, inviting you to rest your weary head. She would look after you in ways you didn’t know you needed looking after. “I think we’ll get on perfectly.” She grinned, revealing perfectly straight white teeth. How did someone get teeth like that?

“I’m sorry, I—” Jonas floundered and looked to Aris for help. His arm slipped from Llew’s shoulders.

“She’s Syakaran, Jonas.” Aris beamed. “She came all this way to meet you.” His eyes slid across to Llew, pleased to see her shrink back, giving the two Syakara the stage.

“Oh. Well, good to meet you.” Jonas took her hand again and shook it more firmly this time. “This is Hisham, my closest friend.” He waved Hisham forward, and he too shook the woman’s hand, his face awestruck. “And my, ah—” Jonas reached an arm beside him. Not finding Llew there, he looked back and motioned her forward. She stepped closer. “My, ah... Llew.”

Everyone gawped at them. Even Anya stepped back from Gaemil, wiping her eyes with a sleeve and sniffing loudly.

The woman must have arrived soon after Jonas had left for Turhmos, and everyone seemed to have concluded that they would be a couple. Except Anya. Llew saw a defiant I told you so in her eyes. But Aris, Emylia, Gaemil...

“Your Llew?” The woman’s laugh was like a wind-chime catching a summer breeze. “Whatever does that mean?”

Llew looked at Aris. It wasn’t to a boil yet, but his rage was simmering.

“It means that she’s Llew. And she’s mine.” Jonas squeezed Llew’s shoulder.

The woman’s face fell a fraction. “Oh.”

Part of Llew wanted the earth to swallow her up, while another part wanted her to stand tall, jut out her chin and claim her right to the man beside her. Had Jonas even looked at the woman before him? Even if he had and, somehow, still favored Llew, there was no way Aris would let her have him.

“I think I need to have a word with Jonas,” said Aris, stepping toward the Syakaran.

Llew went to move away, but Jonas held firm.

“There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

“Oh, I think there is.”

As always, the tension between the two affected everyone present. Only Lord Tovias outranked Aris, but even he deferred when Aris was admonishing his own man.

Llew caught Anya’s eye. She was the pair’s greatest supporter, but her own marriage to come was arranged: she could hardly speak out against such practices.

“Anya, why don’t you take Llew inside?” Aris might have been talking to Anya, but his eyes didn’t stray from Llew. “I’m sure she could do with a decent bath after all her adventures.”

Llew looked down at herself, ready to take offense. Well, she was a little grubby. She tried to lift an arm without being obvious. Hmm. Yes, she supposed she did stink a bit, too.

“But—” Anya began. Gaemil placed a hand on her shoulder.

Llew’s cheeks grew hot, and she couldn’t imagine Jonas feeling much better having his future relations discussed by committee. But she couldn’t look at him. What if she peeked and he was looking at the Syakaran woman? What if the week of return travel, a week of healing for Llew, a week of contemplation of their future, of Llew, Jonas and their child, were all for nothing? He was, after all, Quaver’s hero. He had a responsibility to do right by his country.

What if Jonas really did want her? His arm was still across her shoulders. But once he had a chance to get to know this other woman, he might change his mind. She was extraordinarily beautiful, for one thing, and no doubt she was also lovely and kind and a lot of fun. Jonas could run with her, and she wouldn’t have to be pregnant to do it.

She hadn’t told him yet. She couldn’t tell him now. She couldn’t have him choosing her over this other woman just because she was pregnant. Although, why would he? He had children all over Quaver, according to Alvaro.

Hisham led the horses to the stable since Gaemil’s stable hands understandably lacked the courage to approach the Syakaran and his captain glaring at each other.

Llew pushed Jonas’s arm from her shoulders and moved away, still not looking at him. A lump had formed in her throat, and if she looked at him, she would only have to deal with his confusion and hurt on top of her own, and it was all she could do to hold the tears back. It shouldn’t have hurt so much. He was just a man, and she’d learned years ago she didn’t need a man in her life.

Llew looked to Anya for support and the blonde girl stepped in, looping arms again.

Llew had never felt about anyone the way she felt about Jonas, never allowed herself to. But the way he was with her, the way he smelled, his gentle touch, never taking advantage, only what she offered willingly. And he’d come for her. When she was in the heart of enemy territory, he’d put his life on the line for her. How could she not love him?

Then she looked up at the Syakaran woman and her heart retreated. She cared for Jonas. She couldn’t afford to love him. Llew glanced at Jonas before Anya whisked her away. He was locked in a staring battle with Aris. He didn’t look angry. In fact, he looked the calmest Llew could remember him since they’d met.

Anya urged her on, and they began the long walk to the mansion. They were halfway to the building before the raised voices started behind them. Anya’s grip tightened on Llew.

“How long has she been here?” Llew asked.

“A few days.”

“And I suppose she’s lovely.”

Anya looked as though she was about to deny it, but then her lips pressed together, and she gave a reluctant nod. “But so are you, Llew.” She nudged Llew and gave her as reassuring a smile as she could manage.

“But she’s new and exciting,” Llew lamented. “Jonas and I have spent day and night together for over a month now. He knows everything about me. He’s heard me fart.”

Anya laughed. Llew was surprised she didn’t blush. “You’re so precious, Llew.” She drew her into an embrace. “Come,” she said as she pulled back. “I’ll teach you about the Kara and the Aenuks, and you’ll come to understand that you’ve already won.” Anya guided Llew inside and up to her suite of rooms. “Besides, I’ve already been thinking about us having a joint wedding. Not that I’ve mentioned it to Gaemil yet, but he is so obliging, I think he would very likely do anything I asked.” And there it was. Llew knew what was different about Anya. She had learned that she had power to wield, and she was using it.

Marry?

“You could be wed here, with us, and you could stay as long as you want.”

Marry?

“You mean you haven’t been thinking about it?”

“I’ve, ah, had other things on my mind...”

“Well, of course you have. Which is why I’ve been doing it for you.”

Inside the suite, Anya went straight to her bookshelves and began pulling down books and laying them out on her bed.

“But...” Llew waved her hands up and down her filthy travel clothes.

“Shh. I won’t tell if you don’t.” Anya winked. She called for her maid and sent the woman to organize a bath for Llew in her own room. “But in the meantime, let’s learn about your heritage.” She took a few steps and flopped unceremoniously on the bed. “I’m quite the scandal, you know? In Cheer I was this fine lady. But here, well, they don’t think much of my education. I’m trying. But it’s so tiresome.” She patted the bedding beside her.

Llew pulled off her shoes and collapsed beside her.