Jane’s hand. He brought it to his face and pressed it to his cheek, then kissed her palm. “Jane,” he whispered. “Wake up.”
Her eyes moved behind her eyelids, then fluttered open. “G,” she said again, and the corner of her mouth lifted in a smile. “I thought I might not see you again. . . .”
“You’ll have to work harder than that to be rid of me,” Gifford said.
Edward suddenly felt like he was intruding on something intimate. He took a step backward toward the exit, and his foot shuffled against the rough stone floor.
Jane looked over Gifford’s shoulder and saw him.
“Edward,” she breathed, her brown eyes widening. “EDWARD.”
She gave a choked cry and reached out. Of course he went to her. Gifford straightened and moved out of his way so that Edward could sit beside her and clasp her hand in his.
“You’re alive,” Jane said. “I kept asking to see your body, but they wouldn’t let me, and I thought that perhaps it was all a ruse and you weren’t really gone, that they were lying to me, that you were out there somewhere, and that meant that I wasn’t really the queen and I shouldn’t be there, but it felt like wishful thinking.”
All of those words seemed to exhaust her, and she whimpered and sank back on the table. He noticed, then, that there was blood seeping through the cloak. He turned to ask Gifford to go get Gran, but Gifford had already gone. Gran came hustling through the door, rolling up her sleeves.
“Gran,” Jane said. “We found you, after all.”
“Be quiet, dear,” Gran said. “Rest now.”
Jane sighed and closed her eyes. Gran smoothed the red hair back from Jane’s forehead and started to draw the cloak away from her. Then she stopped and glared at Edward.
“Out with you,” she ordered. “You, too, horse boy.”
Edward turned to see Gifford standing in the doorway, his expression tight. They went outside together, where the first rays of sun were touching the highest stones of the keep.
“I have to go,” Gifford said. “Will you . . . ?”
“I’ll stay with her,” Edward offered.
Gifford lowered his head and nodded stiffly toward his chest. “Thank you.”
Then he was moving away from Edward in long strides across the grass, shedding his clothes as he went, until a light flashed and he was no longer walking, but galloping across the field.
Edward sat down on the ground next to the door and leaned against the wall, drawing his knees up to his chest. He was cold, and he was tired, but he didn’t care. He’d be there for Jane the minute Gran allowed him back into the room.
“Sire,” said a soft voice. He glanced up. Gracie was holding a cup of something out to him. He took it. It was hot, steam curling off the top. It warmed his hands.
“Please say this isn’t one of Gran’s potions,” he said.
“Well, that’s what the English drink in times of crisis, I hear.” She lifted her arms over her head and stretched, then yawned, then smiled. “We Scots prefer whisky.”
He was too tired to smile back properly. He drank the tea slowly, savoring the heat that filled his belly. He felt his shoulders start to relax.
“You really love her, don’t you?” Gracie asked him as she took the empty cup from his hand. “Jane.”
“Yes, I love her,” he said. “We’ve known each other all our lives.”
He was about to say something more, about how Jane was like a sister to him, that kind of affection between them, but then he heard a mad, joyful little bark, and Pet was on him.
The dog wiggled and danced all over him, whining and whimpering and yipping, her tail wagging like mad. He grinned and tried to pet her, but she wouldn’t hold still. It was only when she started to lick his face that he remembered that there was a girl someone in there, a person, and he sobered and tried to get to his feet.
“Someone’s happy to see you,” Gracie remarked.
“Uh . . . yes,” he said. “Down, Pet. Down.”
There was a flash, and she was a naked girl.
“Your Majesty,” she said earnestly. “I am so glad to see you. I followed your scent all the way here, and I thought I’d lost it once, but I found it again. I would