“Please, let me finish. As bad as what Nyssa did to my body was, it’s nothing compared to what she did in here.” She tapped her head. “I do not have . . . Nyssa stripped my confidence. I am unsure of myself, of what I can do. If I go to the p’ehdrose, that is something I can do.”

“Oh, Karigan,” he murmured. He felt her pain as his own, as he had often questioned his competence as he healed from the assassin’s arrow. “If you only knew how I see you. When your wounds were so fresh, you rescued me from Grandmother, and that took unbelievable strength. And I will not discount your role as avatar, either, for not just anyone could fill it and keep a sane mind. Connly told me of the messages you are having sent out in support of Estral. These are not small things. You are more than useful—you are essential, and I would have it no other way. Seek out the p’ehdrose if you must—I will not deny you. If anyone can make them our allies, it is you.” He was disappointed, however, they would not be riding back together.

“Thank you,” she replied.

“I know words won’t change what you feel inside,” he said, “but I hope they bring you some peace. Recovering from what you went through, it will take time. When you finish with the p’ehdrose, hurry home to us. I suspect your colonel will be just as happy to see you as I.”

Karigan’s smile indicated she had heard the news about Laren’s promotion. “My poor father,” she said.

“Your father?”

“Uh, they’ve become friends, he and the captain. My father seems fated to be surrounded by commanding women.”

“Ah, your aunts.” And you, he thought. He knew how Stevic G’ladheon must feel.

“Exactly,” she replied.

He wished there was more to be said, wished he could demonstrate to her how he felt, but there was no privacy, too many eyes and ears near the horse pickets. Perhaps before they parted ways?

• • •

Unfortunately, he did not see her again until the morning of his departure when many of the River Unit and the former slaves came to see him off. He shook hands with Destarion and Varius.

“You have both done good work here,” he told them. “You saved many lives, including my own. For that, I thank you.”

Destarion looked particularly pleased by his words. “It is my honor to serve, and I will continue to do well by the River Unit.”

Down the line, Captain Dannyn clicked his heels together and bowed to him. Zachary complimented him on how well and how quickly the old keep was being organized and fortified.

When he reached Lorilie Dorran, he asked, “What will you do now?”

“Rest for a time, I think,” she said. “I’ve friends in North whom I’ll stay with for a while, then who knows? If you are ever in need of a good book on equitable governance, I recommend Beyond Monarchy: A Republic for the People, by Edwin Grommer, who—”

“I have read all of Grommer’s work,” Zachary replied. He found the look of profound surprise on Lorilie’s face gratifying.

“Uh, well then, if you ever need an advisor on alternate governments, seek me out.”

“I will do that.” He couldn’t help but grin when her eyes went wide.

Down the line he went, speaking some personal words of farewell to each of the assembled. When he reached Enver, he extended his hand for a shake.

“Thank you for all you have done,” he told the Eletian. “You are welcome to my home in Sacor City any time. When next I see Prince Jametari, I intend to extend my high regard of you to him.”

“Thank you, Firebrand.” There was a flash of that coldness again in Enver’s eyes.

Zachary leaned closely and said in a soft voice, “Please continue to watch over Karigan, and return her home as soon as you may.”

“I will.” Enver glanced toward Karigan and Zachary sensed a . . . possessiveness?

Was it a mistake to allow the two to travel together? But when he looked back at Enver, the Eletian seemed as good-natured as ever, almost as if Zachary had imagined anything else. Was it his own jealousy making him misread the situation? He shook his head and continued down the line.

At the end stood Karigan. She gave him her stiff half-bow.

“Stay safe,” he said, “and good wishes to you in coaxing the p’ehdrose to our cause.”

“Thank you, sire.”

Because there were so many watching and listening, he kept his words careful. “I would be much too ill-humored were you to delay your return home by too long, Rider. We cannot do without you.” Let the others try to figure out if “we” meant everyone in general back at the castle, or if he was using the royal “we” to indicate only himself. He hoped Karigan could tell.

She gave him a barely perceptible smile. “I will be home before you know it.”

He nodded, pleased, but thought how much more complicated it would be when she did return. He’d become no better than a cad, he thought, who dishonored both Karigan and Estora. He did not deserve either of them. He was about to turn away, but paused. “I hope you do not mind if I hold on to your sword for a while longer.” He patted the hilt.

“Of course not,” she said.

“My thanks.” He smiled and continued to where Donal held the reins to his horse borrowed from the River Unit. After the battle, the sword had been found half-buried in the melting snow. He did not intend to return it to Karigan, for it was soiled by his use of it, by his madness and rage during the battle, and from all the killing. He intended she have another when she returned, one that was unsullied, and which she could use to regain her strength. He was determined that she train once more as a swordmaster.