calling down lightning. If you’d insisted on these women becoming war magae as the Chantry thought of war magae, they’d have made little progress before spring. Instead, you’ve let them be who they are.”
“It’s common sense.”
“By the Seraph’s tits, Vi, a magus’s fireball isn’t any good if he can’t cross a bog to get to the battle; his lightning bolt can’t hurt anyone if he starves. We were right about you. It might be common sense, but the weaves you’ve encouraged these women to develop would never have been encouraged by anyone else. You want to know why? Because we all have blind spots, Vi, even you. The good thing is that yours are different from ours. Your commonsense answer violates one of our institutional creeds in place since the Third Alitaeran Accord, which is that the Sisterhood is complete. By abandoning certain areas of study, many would say you imply that men are better at those types of magic. That statement would be enough to paralyze most Sisters from doing the work you’re doing. Even if they agreed it was true, they would spend a lot of energy trying to conceal the fact that they weren’t studying fire and lightning and earthquakes.”
“I’m not making any statements,” Vi said. “I bet I can throw a better fireball than most magi, and I haven’t even worked on it. I’m just trying to save our asses.”
“Oh, just because a crisis threatens to wipe us out, you think we should stop infighting?”
Vi scrunched her eyebrows together. “Is that a real question?”
Sister Ariel laughed. “How are things, ahem, on the conjugal front?”
“What?” Right when Vi thought Sister Ariel was being kind, the woman had to pull out her big words to make Vi feel stupid.
“How are things with your husband?” Sister Ariel asked, after making sure no one was close enough to overhear.
At even the mention of him, Vi felt Kylar, only fifty paces away, training in the basement of their manse with Durzo›€€…. He seemed happy despite his many bruises. Vi Healed them secretly from time to time when Kylar was asleep in the mornings.
The last month had been awkward, but not nearly as bad as Vi had feared. Vi had expected to feel malice leaking through the bond at all times, and if Kylar had hated her, there was no way she could be anything but miserable. Mostly, though, he didn’t think about her. She was training and studying as many hours a day as her body could stand and so was he. When she got home, she went to bed immediately.
Meanwhile, Kylar and Elene had found a patr to marry them in secret. Durzo, Uly, Sister Ariel, and Vi were the only witnesses. Kylar had moved into Elene’s room, though consummating their marriage was impossible, and any time cuddling even flirted with the erotic, Kylar began to get sick. Oddly, they still had that newlywed glow. Maybe it was all intensified because they knew Elene didn’t have much time left, so they touched whenever they could—though carefully—and spent hours talking.
Vi knew Kylar felt the absence of sex acutely. Some nights she’d lie awake on the opposite side of the wall from where he lay awake, Elene snuggled into his chest. She could feel the ache of desire, but as soon as he entertained the desire, his thoughts veered to Vi and with an iron self-control, he stopped those thoughts and began admiring everything he loved about Elene. Sometimes, Vi knew, that iron self-control was rusted all the way through, but still he closed the door.
They’d met twice in their dreams.
“You don’t hate me,” Vi said in the first dream. She marveled at it.
“I hate the price we have to pay.”
“Can you ever forgive me?” she asked.
“I’m trying. You did what had to be done. You’re not a bad woman, Vi. I know that you’ve been giving me and Elene space and time, and I know it’s hard for you, too. Thank you.” He glanced down at her night dress; this one actually fit, and his gaze was admiring, but deliberately brief. “I just wish you weren’t so damn beautiful. Good night.”
The second dream had been harder. It had been one of those nights where Kylar lay on the opposite side of the wall so tormented he thought he would burst. In the dream, Kylar stood at the foot of Vi’s bed, naked. His eyes were closed and Vi drank in the sight of him, his hard lean limbs, flat stomach etched