“I remember,” she whispered, looking away.

He placed his finger under her chin and turned her gaze toward him. “My feelings have not changed since then, not even wavered. If anything, they have only grown. Karigan, I—”

“No! Please don’t.” And she looked away again.

He cursed himself. His desire to express himself only made her hurt worse. At this time, of all times, he should be able to say all he longed in his heart to say, but a wall still stood between them, a wall that could not be breached.

“I will crush Second Empire for the harm they’ve caused you,” he said, instead of what he really wanted to say. Words made such poor tools at times. “Now, drink your tea, and that is an order.” He sat there as she drank it down. The intake of fluid could only help her, but the shaking hands that held the cup disturbed him.

When she finished, she gave him a tentative smile and lay back down. He stood to leave, but just before he stepped outside, she said, “My lord? Zachary?”

Startled to hear her use his name, he halted abruptly. “Yes?”

“I do, too.”

It took him a moment to understand what she meant, and when he did, he nearly rushed to her side again, but he saw she had already surrendered to sleep. Instead, he stepped outside, stunned and thrilled, and in mourning for what could not be. Enver was nowhere in sight, but Estral came to him.

“Well?” she asked.

“She drank the tea,” he replied.

“That’s more than I’ve been able to get her to do.”

“She is in a dark place,” he said. “She says she is broken. I don’t know what to do to reach her.”

Estral shook her head sadly and went to her own tent, as though in defeat.

He stood by the fire and threw a log on it. He watched the flames waver, then flare and roil as they ate into the dry wood. There had to be something he could do to lead Karigan from her place of darkness. He could continue to show her his love, but even love might not be enough. His gaze drifted across the campsite where the horses were picketed. Condor lifted his head and seemed to meet his gaze. He smiled. He would let her rest for a while; then he would try again.

Karigan drifted. Someone else wanted into her dreams, someone who had been there before and offered guidance, the Rider of ancient times, she thought, but Nyssa would not let him pass. She could not fight Nyssa, heard only the voice that told her she was broken, of no use, selfish and cruel. She stewed in a haze of deprecations, thinking it better her companions just leave her. She was no good to them at all.

Strangely, the clip-clop of hooves entered her awareness. She shook herself awake, and the horse came to a halt just outside the tent.

What? she wondered.

The next thing she knew, Condor stuck his head through the tent flaps and whickered.

“Condor? What?”

He stretched his nose as far as he could and lipped her feet. Even Enver’s accommodating tent could not enlarge enough to fit an entire horse. With some effort, she maneuvered around so she could pet his velvety muzzle. His breath smelled of sweet grain.

“How did you get here, boy?” she asked.

Her king, Zachary, for he was more to her than just her king, poked his head in, then worked his way around Condor to sit beside her. “He misses you,” he said.

And she missed him, but now she was torn—wanted to turn away, isolate herself, but also have the comfort of their company.

“Thank you,” she said.

Zachary came closer and her urge to turn away grew more urgent. She regretted having indicated her feelings to him, for what couldn’t be. She focused on Condor. Mercifully, Zachary did not try to engage her in conversation. He just sat quietly while she petted Condor’s nose. Sometimes, silence comforted better than anything anyone could say, but now it only allowed Nyssa’s voice to be louder.

He just pities you, you know. It’s not because he really cares.

Tears streaked down her cheeks, and he moved even closer as though he intended to take her in his arms, but she shook her head.

“Please leave,” she whispered, and she turned her back on him and Condor, and lay down once more in her bedding. She was empty and exhausted, and truly broken.

CAPTAIN TREMAN ARRIVES

Zachary led Condor back to his picket. He was alarmed by Karigan’s dejection, didn’t know what to do. The sense of helplessness washed over him again. He was a king. He was supposed to have the power to make things better, and it ate at him that he could not even help one whom he loved.

He decided he could use the company of a horse himself, so he cast about for Condor’s grooming kit. When he found it, he set to Condor’s hide with a curry comb. He raised clumps of winter coat that tumbled away in the breeze.

“Thought you, of anyone, would have drawn her out,” he murmured to the gelding.

Zachary had some familiarity with despair due to his own wounding. There had been dark times when he wondered if he’d ever return to his old strength. The betrayals of his then-counselors and the situation with Estora had not helped, and it all only worsened when Karigan did not come back from Blackveil.

He leaned into the currying, and Condor grunted with pleasure and flicked his tail.

“You missed her, too, didn’t you, boy.”

Only Zachary’s duty, and conflict with Second Empire, had brought him back, and there was always that fine thread of hope he’d held on to that Karigan would, in fact, return. He always felt he’d have sensed it if she’d perished, and so he never gave up, though he did come close more than once. When she did return, he finally healed fully. Sadly, it seemed his own experience with despair failed to help him with Karigan’s.