Nari knelt beside him with a waterskin and what appeared to be . . . chocolate? The scent came to him in an alluring wave, and his stomach churned. He was not sure when last he’d eaten. He had a hazy memory of Nyssa’s guards making him drink.

“There is chocolate, and what some of your people call hardtack, and—” she frowned in distaste “—dried meat.”

He drank more than ate, unsure of what his body would accept. Nari left him to watch for the return of Enver. Unable to keep his head up, he wrapped himself in his cloak and lay down beside Karigan so she might share his heat. She shifted against him, seemingly by instinct, and he placed his arm around her so she could use his shoulder as a pillow. Something stirred within him, with her so close, and he took a quavering breath and gazed at the stars. He guessed the horror of what had been done to him, and to her, was still too fresh for it all to sink in. Of course, he could not remember much of his own torment, but his imagination allowed him to vividly picture hers.

A falling star whisked across the sky and was just as quickly gone.

Nari gazed down at Zachary and the Galadheon. Enver picked his way over to her while Lord Fiori sat apart pressing a bandage to his wounded leg. They had sent Midnight on to Lady Estral with a note informing her of the success of the mission. The Galadheon, at some point, had nestled her head on Zachary’s shoulder, her body tucked up against his side as though the two had always fit together as water to the shore. They were both deeply asleep.

“Her wounds need tending,” Enver said.

“It can wait, I think,” Nari replied.

“I am a healer,” he said. “I must tend her, and the Firebrand, as well.”

When he started forward, Nari placed her hand against his chest to stay him and said, “Leave them be. When they awaken will be soon enough. They need rest, and their being together is a different kind of healing.” Despite her words, she still felt his resistance.

“I disagree.”

“If you want to help, sing.”

He looked rebellious.

“I see what is in your eyes, Enver of Eletia, and it is not just the watchfulness of the tessari. What was the council of the Alluvium thinking when they sent you out into the world alone?”

“I do not need others.” His tone was defensive. “My discipline, my control, is sound. I have mastered my instincts.”

“You are entering your first age of unfolding. You’ve no idea the power of accendu’melos. Discipline is not enough. You need others around you to help you control your urges.”

“I can master my own urges.”

It was an arrogant statement, Nari thought. She glanced down at the Galadheon sleeping so innocently, so peacefully. “You hear the song of her spirit. It calls out to you. Her scent fills you and you must be near her. Is this not true?”

Enver did not answer.

“Hear me now, Enver of Eletia, this one is not for you, and perhaps for none of this Earth. You know as do I, her god of death has claim of her. A claim greater than even that of her king. You see it, don’t you? She is marked, and by more than just her god.”

“She is used.”

“Are not we all in some way? With her, however, it is by the hands of greater powers.”

Enver turned. “Very well, I will wait.”

She watched as he walked over to where Lord Fiori sat. He had not liked her words. She still did not understand why the council of the Alluvium would send him out alone, especially when he was so young and close to his first unfolding. It was dangerous. Dangerous for him, and even more dangerous for the object of his desire. And, dangerous to the one who might be considered a rival. Her gaze fell on Zachary.

Humans, in her experience, only saw Eletians as peaceful and balanced. They did not see the more primal side of the Eletian nature, especially when one scented another in the deepest sense, heard that other’s song. The drive to bond and mate was fierce, the act often savage, wanton, especially among the young who possessed less control, and it could last for days. For Eletians, it was not just the melding of bodies, but an empathic joining of emotions and thoughts, as well. If Enver should undergo his first unfolding in the presence of the Galadheon and she was unwilling? It did not even bear imagining, especially with her in her weakened state.

Nari was old enough to have attained great control long ago and no longer succumbed to such drives. Life in the cave of the aureas slee had only enhanced her discipline.

Enver did show signs of remarkable control now, but in time? He had a gentle nature, but that would not restrain him during his unfolding. She shook her head once more at the poor decision of the council to send him out alone, then caught herself. Eletians were nothing but deliberate in their decisions, even if their motives were opaque, their intrigues more convoluted than an epic ballad celebrating the disparate lineages and extended families of the Great Houses. With their eternal lives, those Eletians who engaged in intrigues played a very long game, as had her sister. It occurred to her that this “mistake” was intentional, whatever the consequences. Intrigues and machinations, signs and portents, wove the fabric of Eletian custom and polity.

If Enver losing his discipline in the presence of the Galadheon was the intent of the council, to whatever end they desired, then she could only agree with Enver that the Galadheon was being used, and so was he. Nari could tell the Galadheon did not hear the song of Enver’s spirit as he heard hers, which would make his unfolding all the worse, for she’d be an unwilling participant.