a cellar until the authorities can collect you. I've got people to look after. I don't know you. I can't trust you."
"But if-"
"This discussion," he said, "is over. Now shut your mouth, before you pass out."
She felt him move closer and looked up just as he lifted her up again, keeping her unwounded arm against his chest. She didn't mean to, but she found herself laying her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. She was just too tired, and it hurt too much. She hadn't slept since... had it been two days ago?
"... going to be in here fixing dinner," Bernard was saying, "so we'll move you to a cot by the fire in the great hall. Everyone will be in here tonight, because of the storm."
She heard herself make a small sound of acknowledgment, but the ordeal of having her wounds cleaned, coupled with her exhaustion, left her in no condition to do more. She leaned against him and soaked in his warmth, his strength, drowsing.
She didn't stir until he began lowering her onto the cot. The door to the hall opened, somewhere behind him and out of her sight. Footsteps came toward them, but she couldn't see who they belonged to and couldn't work up the energy to care. Frederic's nervous voice said, "Sir, there's some travelers asking for shelter from the storm."
"That's right, Steadholder," said Fidelias, his voice even, pleasant, using a relaxed Rivan accent as though he were a native. "I hope the three of us won't be an inconvenience."
Chapter 16
Isana woke to the sounds of wind groaning over the valley and the hollow clanging of the storm chimes hanging outside.
She frowned and rubbed at her eyes, struggling to orient herself. Her last memories were of being carried to her bed, after tending to Bernard. She must have slept for hours. She didn't feel thirsty, which was no surprise; Rill often tended to such matters on her own initiative. But her stomach growled and roiled with an almost painful need for food, and her body ached as though she'd not moved for days.
Frowning, Isana pushed aside the purely physical sensations, until she reached something deeper, more detached. And once she had isolated that feeling, she focused on it, closing her eyes to shut out the miscellaneous emotional noise she always felt around her.
Something was wrong.
Something was very wrong.
It was a quiet, nauseating feeling deep down, something that made her think of funerals and sickbeds and the smell of burnt hair. It felt familiar, and it took her a moment to track back through her memory, to realize when she had found such a sensation within her before.
Isana's heart lurched in sudden panic. She threw off the covers and rose, drawing a robe on over the shift she'd slept in. Her hair hung down past her waist, loose and tangled, but she left it so. She belted the robe and stepped toward her door. Her balance swayed, and she had to lean against the door for a moment, closing her eyes, until she regained her balance.
She opened the door, to find her brother moving quietly out of his room across the hall. "Bernard," she cried, and went to him, gripping him in a sudden, tight embrace. He felt warm and solid and strong in her arms. "Oh, thank all the furies. You're all right." She lifted her eyes to his and asked, anguish making the words tight, "Is Tavi-"
"He's all right," Bernard said. "A little banged up, not terribly happy, but he'll be fine."
Isana felt sudden tears blur her eyes, and she pressed her face against her brother's chest and hugged him again. "Oh. Oh, Bernard. Thank you."
He hugged her back and said, voice gruff, "Nothing I did. He'd already taken care of himself and was on the way home."
"What happened?"
Bernard was silent for a moment, and she could feel the discomfort in him. "I'm not sure," he said finally. "I remember setting out with him yesterday, but beyond that... nothing. I woke up in bed about an hour before sunrise."
Isana forced the tears back and stepped back from him, nodding. "Crafting trauma. Memory loss. Like when Frederic broke his legs."
Bernard made a growling sound. "I don't like it. If what Tavi says is true-"
She tilted her head to one side. "What does Tavi say?"
She listened as Bernard recounted Tavi's story to her, and she could only shake her head. "That boy." She closed her eyes. "I don't know whether to hug him or scream