She tried to smile but could hardly hold the shape of it. “It seems to happen a lot, me waking to see you sitting at my bedside.”

He was quiet for a moment, and then he folded her hand into his and kissed it. “I saw you fighting her, through the threads,” he whispered. “I saw you, and I could do nothing to help you. If I moved, the thread would have snapped. I would have lost you again.”

“But you didn’t. I’m here, and so are you.”

He shook his head against her hand. “Things are changed, just as I feared they might be.”

“Are we safe for now?” she asked, interrupting him.

“For now, yes.”

“Is Remy here, and well?”

“Yes, and he appears to be himself.”

She pulled him gently toward her. “Then let’s not talk about it just yet. Please, come here. Even if only for a few minutes.”

“I’ll hurt you,” he said, touching her face. “You should rest, lie still.”

“I’m not talking about sex,” she replied, and then her voice gave out. She felt Rielle’s magic striking her body all over again and, even worse, Corien’s mind invading hers. His seeking fingers, his smooth, smiling voice.

Simon slipped into the bed beside her, his body a warm shield between her and the rest of the room. Gently, he gathered her against him, and she hid in the shelter of his embrace, ignoring the pain striping her abdomen.

“I can still feel him inside me,” she whispered. “I thought I would have lost him, that time would have ripped him out of me. But I still feel him, I think. Or maybe I just can’t rid myself of the memory.”

Simon was so still that she wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Then he said quietly, “Do you mean Corien?”

She nodded against his chest. “He was there. At least, I think he was. I didn’t see him, but I heard him. I felt him. I tried to get rid of him, but I didn’t know how, and he wouldn’t leave.” She let out a shaky laugh and spoke quickly, the words spilling out of her. “I don’t know half of what she said, or if anything I said made sense to her. Remy should have been there.” She wiped her cheeks on Simon’s shirt. “He could have helped us speak to each other. And he could have seen a godsbeast. Did you see it? It was enormous.”

He began to stroke her hair. His voice was remarkably calm. “I did.”

She closed her eyes. The rhythm of his fingers began at last to soothe her.

“I should have listened to you,” she whispered, her voice heavy. “You wanted to wait, and I pushed you to send me anyway.”

“I was just as eager to try as you were,” he replied. “If you hadn’t been so distraught, I wouldn’t have hesitated.”

“So we’re both at fault, is what you’re saying.”

“Well,” he said, his lips in her hair, “I don’t know that I would go quite that far.”

“Are you angry with me? If I were you, I’d be angry with me.”

“For someone who doesn’t love me, you’re terribly concerned about my regard for you.”

“Simon.” The fragile lightness she’d managed splintered in her throat. She pressed her hands against him, as if to move away, but he caught her gently, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs.

“I’m not angry.” His troubled gaze searched her face. “I’ve never been more terrified in my life.”

She chased the distant ghosts in his eyes, the sharp shadows that had not been there the day before, and let him soothe her back into his arms. Soon his soft words were lost to her. She fell quietly into a still, black sleep.

• • •

When she next awoke, Simon had already left, the bed beside her gone cold.

She pulled on her boots, wincing as she bent over to tie them. Wondering if she should attempt to heal her wound before heading downstairs, she held her hands out before her and reached for her castings with her mind.

But the mere act of trying for even a scrap of focus sent her head spinning. She sat down hard on the edge of the bed, catching her breath, and tried twice more before giving in to her exhaustion.

“Food,” she muttered to herself. “Food will help.”

She followed the smell of butter and frying sausages downstairs, and was about to join the others in the dining room when Simon appeared at her side, catching her gently by the elbow.

“Before you go in there,” he said, “I should tell you what to expect, now that things have changed.”

Something about his voice, the careful way he held his face, sent an icy heat sweeping down her body. “Patrik?”

“He’s here and, unfortunately, just as he was.”

“And Dani tended to my wounds, you said.”

“Yes, Dani is here, and all three of her boys. But her husband was killed long ago, and I wouldn’t ask her about it. The estate is only slightly altered, from what I could see. Minor shifts in the landscape. A more elaborate architectural style.” He hesitated. “The Jubilee now begins tomorrow evening. Admiral Ravikant’s naming day is October fourteenth, rather than October sixteenth.”

“Tomorrow,” she repeated. And suddenly she couldn’t look at him, for the first thought that had entered her mind was not that this would leave them less time to prepare for the Jubilee, less time to recover from traveling and attempt it once more, before being forced to flee the continent—but that she would now have less time to be with him. Not as soldiers, but merely as themselves.

It was such a silly thought to have, such a selfish, childish desire in the face of everything else, and yet she was not ashamed of having it. The wildest, most uncaring part of her mind wanted to take Simon and Remy and run away. They would hide in some remote corner of the world and leave the rest of them to their war. She would have Simon all to herself and would kill anyone who tried to take him from her.

“And Jessamyn?” she said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice.

But Simon did not reply. She looked up sharply, dread painting her arms hot. His silence told her the answer, but she needed to hear him say it.

“Where is she, Simon?” she whispered.

“She’s not here,” he said at last. “And she never was.”

47

   Jessamyn

“Thoughts of Kalmaroth turn in my sleep. Once, I dreamed of love and stars and unknowable ancient seas. Now, his fury floods my dreams. Sometimes it moves softly, feathering my cheeks. The caress of a paw before a kill. Sometimes it stabs me, and I wake sweating and screaming. We should all fear him—angels and humans alike. His anger will never die. Even if we succeed, his rage will flood the Deep.”