difficult truth, but one I needed to hear.” Catherine lifted his hand again and kissed it. “The truth that they’re going to . . . that your leg is worse than I realized . . . than you told me. That Savage is going to operate.” Tears filled her eyes.
Tzsayn struggled to sit up. “Who told you?”
“No one told me. I overheard Davyon saying something. But don’t blame him. You should have told me.”
“I judge differently. And Davyon should have kept his mouth shut. He’s supposed to be discreet. That’s his job.”
“Well, sometimes even Davyon makes a mistake. He cares about you very much.”
“That’s no excuse.”
“And I care for you very much too. I care that you planned to deceive me. I know that you did it for the best of reasons, but when we spoke last week you talked about honesty, and yet you chose to hide this from me. I wasn’t sure what to do about it, if I should play along and go and buy some ships.”
“Obviously you decided against that sensible course of action.”
Catherine ignored his comment and continued with her speech.
“I don’t want you to deceive me, ever. And I won’t deceive you. On anything. Big or small. I won’t pretend I don’t know about this—it’s too important. It’s hurt me that you thought I’d be better off not knowing. I don’t want us to have a relationship with any lies or pretense . . . not if we’re going to be husband and wife.”
Tzsayn went very still. “Husband and wife?”
“Indeed.”
“So . . . are you saying that you agree to marry me for real?” Tzsayn asked, a half-smile playing on his face.
“Yes, that is what I’m saying.”
Tzsayn pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I want to take you in my arms but I’m too weak.”
Catherine gently leaned forward and kissed his lips. “You asked me to choose my future. I choose a future with you.”
“Really? Even though . . . my leg.”
Catherine kissed him on the lips again. “I love you. With or without the leg.”
“You know I lied because I was trying to . . .” Tzsayn stopped when he saw her look. “Fine, I won’t make excuses about that. But I don’t want you to cancel your trip.”
Catherine nodded. “I wish I could. I wish I could be with you. It’ll hurt me to leave, but I have to sign the loan agreements. Only the royal seal will suffice, or, knowing the Calidorians, they’ll sail their ships away again. And every day we don’t have them means we’re vulnerable.”
“I wish you could stay, but we’re both strong. We’ll get through this.”
But are you strong enough?
Perhaps. Catherine stared at Tzsayn’s thin face, and it seemed to her it had already changed. He was smiling and there was delight in his eyes.
“Yes, we’re both strong,” Catherine repeated. “We’ll get through this.”
“And when you return, we’ll have the coronation.” He leaned forward and whispered, “And, before that, the marriage ceremony, which I long for much more.”
“I love you very much.”
Tzsayn smiled. “And I love you. I will do my best to be the husband you deserve. I won’t lie or deceive—and I will get out of this damned bed and, even with one leg, I’ll stand with you.”
TASH
DEMON TUNNELS
TASH CLIMBED up the slope, the stone parting before her. In her mind she held an image of the Northern Plateau, of sunlight and trees and a stream. She was thirsty and tired but suddenly the darkness around her was no longer a red-dark but a blue-dark. There were little spots of silver light above her—stars.
Tash put her arms up, hardly daring to believe it.
Please don’t be a dream.
She scrambled up the slope and her hand touched cool earth—not stone but soil, which she dug her fingers into. The air was chillingly cold and she collapsed on the ground, rolling onto her back, then crawling to a tree to put her arms round it like an old friend. The bark scratched her cheek.
“It’s real. I’ve made it.”
Tash ran her hand over the ground. All she wanted to do was marvel at the beauty of the plateau. She lay back and stared up at the stars, wept silently, and eventually slept.
It was still dark when Tash woke, chilled to the bone.
“At least it’s not that horrible total black-dark. This is the lightest dark possible,” she muttered. “And muttering to yourself isn’t a sign of madness. It’s just a sign of . . . being a