clutching it in a way that would likely take a hot iron to smooth over, but there was nothing to be done about it now. She looked up at the trees, feeling hot tears stream down her cheeks.
They knew her.
Hard on the heels of that realization came another one.
She couldn’t run. Not away from her past, or her present, or her future, because if she ran, the time would come when places like the garden she was in would be overcome. She had no doubt that Daniel was alive—he’d always had an uncanny ability to land on his feet—and she knew what he could do. He wasn’t Ruith’s half brothers, of course, but he wasn’t a village whelp either. If there was something she could do to stop him, she had to.
No matter the cost—
She had to turn away from that thought before it robbed her of the last of her breath. She crawled abruptly off Ruith’s cloak, then picked it up and shook it out. She hesitated, then picked up the cloak he had made for her and pulled it around her shoulders. She knew she would pay for it eventually, but for the moment she would allow herself the very great pleasure of wearing something she never would have dared weave for herself, and damn the consequences.
Ruith was nowhere to be found, but she didn’t imagine he had left her to herself. She found a handy bench sitting under the trees at the edge of the little glade and made herself at home on it. She wished she’d had something useful to do, such as wind yarn or knit, but as she didn’t, she simply sat with her hands folded in her lap and tried not to think. That was difficult given that she was in a place where her entrance had been granted thanks to a man she was trying to forget.
I want more than an hour, Sarah.
She closed her eyes and bowed her head, partly to shut out the almost overwhelming sight of the magic-drenched garden in front of her and partly to shut out his words. He wanted her for what? To find his father’s spells for him? To keep him company as he plunged into darkness? She couldn’t imagine it was for any more romantic purposes, not that she was interested in anything of that nature with him. He was an elven prince—
Who was, she discovered as she opened her eyes, walking toward her.
He was dressed as he had been the day before, in his usual simple homespun. If she’d been looking at his clothes alone, she would have thought him nothing more than a man from some rustic mountain village, hardened to the labor of carving a living from where it didn’t want to be carved.
But she made the mistake of looking at his face. She supposed that by now she should have become accustomed to the perfection of it, his flawless features, his bluish green eyes that had seen more than they should have, his dark hair that looked for a change as if he hadn’t been dragging his hands through it in frustration, but she hadn’t. As much as she wished she could have denied it, the truth was she was startled every time she looked at him.
He looked up from his contemplation of the grass beneath his feet, saw her, then stopped.
And she knew, with a finality that rivaled what she’d felt thinking about Daniel, that her task was not limited to finding her brother. She would have to help that man there with his task, no matter where that task led him. Because she could see the spells and he couldn’t. Because he had been willing to accept his birthright the night before. Because his mother had been willing to turn her back on all the beauty Sarah was surrounded by, been willing to risk leaving her children behind, been willing to sacrifice her very life to try to keep the world safe.
Sarah could do no less.
The trees sang their approval.
Ruith cocked an ear and listened to them for a moment or two, smiled faintly, then continued on his way toward her. Sarah felt her breath catch, again. She wondered if there would ever come a day when she could look at him and yawn.
The truth was, it wasn’t because he was handsome, even though he was. It wasn’t because he was skilled with a sword and could protect a gel against any number of thugs in a tavern,