“She must be quieted,” Nari said. “The enemy might hear.”
Zachary hurried to Karigan’s side. She reached out as though struggling with a phantom. He tried to grab her wrist, but she hit his hand away.
“Karigan!” he said.
Enver also knelt beside her. “Galadheon, peace.”
“It’s Nyssa!” she cried, still struggling.
“She will start bleeding anew if she continues this,” Enver told him.
Zachary captured her hands in his. “She is dead,” he told her. “Nyssa is dead.”
“The whip—”
“She’s dead, Karigan,” he said. “I killed her myself. She’s dead.”
Seemingly exhausted, she slumped into her bedding with a groan, and then looked up at him. “Hells . . . What was I thinking?”
“It must have been quite a dream.”
“I thought she was here,” she said, “real.”
“You should continue to rest, Galadheon,” Enver said. “When the dark comes, we will move to the other campsite.”
“I don’t want to close my eyes again,” she murmured.
“I will be here to keep watch so nothing troubles you,” Zachary said.
“But you could change into her.”
“I will not change,” he said. It must have been part of her dream. The fever had returned, and it was difficult to say if she were awake or still moving in a dream world. He squeezed her hands. “I promise I will not change. I will stay here beside you. Enver, Nari, and Lord Fiori are here, too.”
She did not respond, and her breathing deepened. He sat intending to make himself comfortable so he could keep his promise. If it helped, it was a small thing.
Enver glanced at the afternoon sun. “The sooner we return to our campsite, the better. I have more supplies there to properly tend her.”
He had cleaned and bandaged the gouges to Karigan’s forearm. For the time being, the bandages she already had on her back, and even the shirt she wore, staunched the bleeding, and he had decided that attempting to inspect those wounds before they reached the other campsite would only cause more problems.
As for Zachary’s own wounds, Enver had cleaned and applied salve to his lacerations, but they didn’t dare build a fire to brew a tea that would be soothing for his pain. He had slept until late morning, his back and neck stiff from the cold and unforgiving ground, on top of the aches of injuries from his time with Second Empire. Awakening to the open sky above and not the rafters of Nyssa’s workshop had confused him at first; then relief washed over him. Any remaining darkness had faded when he’d found Karigan still tucked up against him, her head on his shoulder. He just lay there reveling in the closeness.
When he rose, he had spoken with the others about his experiences, about how he’d fallen into the hands of Second Empire. They already knew some of it, thanks to Nari. He in turn learned of Magged’s passing and Nari’s search for the aureas slee. They, of course, had no news of Sacor City and his queen, for they had been out of contact with the city for longer than he. Afterward, he sat and wondered how his wife fared, how her pregnancy proceeded, and he brooded over the loss of Magged, and about his subjects who remained enslaved by Grandmother. It galled him that he’d been unable to do anything for them, especially after how they had shielded him from the rocks flung by the people of Second Empire. He did not think Grandmother would allow yet another incursion onto her grounds. The Lone Forest would be more intensely guarded than ever, and she would now know what to look for. The one person capable of slipping back into the forest undetected lay twitching and mumbling in fevered dreams beside him. Even were she well and robust, he would not ask it of her.
There was also the problem of the seal that Grandmother wanted to open. Did they just wait and hope that she failed, or was there something they could actually do to stop her?
Enver had told him a message had been sent to the River Unit, a wise move, and good thinking to use a gryphon as a courier, though he did wonder about its reliability. He needed to get word back to the castle, to Estora.
Fiori limped over and settled on a rock opposite him and nodded toward Karigan. “How is she doing?”
“I don’t really know. Quieter, now.”
“And you?”
“I am fine.”
“You were not treated well. Grandmother and Nyssa, that whole lot, they are insane.”
“To be honest, I have little memory of any of it after they figured out my identity.”
“Perhaps that is for the good.”
Zachary gazed off into the distance. The day was fine with milder breezes from the south that riffled through his hair. Then he looked at Fiori dead on. “I do not know what happened during those blank spaces in my memory. I do not . . . I do not know if I passed on critical information.” When Fiori did not respond, he demanded, “Don’t you understand? They could know all the plans for this season’s campaign. Not only that, but the complement of my troops, their locations, supply routes, weaponry, any number of secrets.”
“I understand, Your Majesty. Then you will have to alter your plans.”
Zachary stared at him in disbelief. “Alter my plans? Just like that? Plans that were in the making for more than a year?”
“I am not saying that you should scrap everything, but make adjustments that will throw Second Empire some surprises. Obviously, they will be expecting changes, now that you are free of them, but anything you do, stay the course or alter your plans, will leave them unsure.”