of the war band was grave indeed, but Eyllwe was not broken by it. Their rebels and gathered forces, while small, were still resisting Morath, still unbroken. They would continue to hold the line in the South, and would do so until their final breaths.
Dorian gleaned the unwritten words, though: they did not have a single soldier to spare for Terrasen. After what he’d seen, Dorian was now inclined to agree.
Eyllwe had given too much, for too long. It was time for the rest of them to shoulder the burden.
Dorian wondered if Manon noted the Crochans who watched her. Not with hatred, but some small degree of respect. Together, the Thirteen dug a massive grave, not even asking their wyverns to haul away the dirt.
The sun rose, then began its descent. Slowly, the grave took form. Large enough for every fallen warrior.
He had to go to Morath. Soon.
Before this occurred again. Before one more mass grave was dug. He couldn’t endure the thought of it, worse than the thought of another collar going around his neck.
Night was full overhead by the time Dorian managed to slip away. By the time he found an empty clearing, drew the marks, and plunged Damaris into earth shining with his own blood.
His summons was answered quickly this time.
Yet it was not Gavin who emerged, shimmering, from the night air.
Dorian’s magic flared, rallying to strike, as the figure took form.
As Kaltain Rompier, clad in an onyx gown and dark hair unbound, smiled sadly at him.
Every word vanished from Dorian’s tongue.
But his magic remained swirling about him, invisible hands eager to crack bone.
Not that there was any life to steal from Kaltain Rompier.
Yet she still held up a slender hand, her gauzy dress and silken hair floating on a phantom wind. “I mean you no harm.”
“I didn’t summon you.” It was the only thing he could think to say.
Kaltain’s dark eyes slid toward Damaris, jutting from the circle of Wyrdmarks. “Didn’t you?”
He didn’t want to contemplate why or how the sword had somehow called her, not Gavin. Whether the sword had a will of its own, or whether the god who’d blessed it had orchestrated this meeting. For whatever truth it deemed necessary to show him.
“I thought you were destroyed at Morath,” he rasped.
“I was.” Her face was softer than he’d ever seen it in life. “In so many ways, I was.”
Manon and Elide had told him what she’d endured. What she’d done for them. He bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Whatever for?”
Then the words tumbled out, spilling from where he’d kept them since the Stone Marshes of Eyllwe. “For not seeing as I should have. For not knowing where they took you. For not helping you when I had the chance.”
“Did you have the chance?” The question was calm, yet he could have sworn an edge sharpened in her voice.
He opened his mouth to deny it. But he made himself look back—at who he’d been long before the collar, before Sorscha. “I knew you were in the castle dungeon. I was content to let you rot there. And then Perrington—Erawan, I mean, took you to Morath, and I didn’t bother to wonder about it.” Shame sluiced through him. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
A Crown Prince who had not served his kingdom or his people, not really. Gavin had been right.
Kaltain’s edges shimmered. “I was not wholly blameless, you know.”
“What happened to you in Morath is in no way your fault.”
“No, it wasn’t,” she agreed, a shadow passing over her face. “But I made choices of my own in going to Rifthold last autumn, in pursuing my ambition for you—your crown. I regret some of them.”
His gaze slid to her bare forearm, to the scar that lingered even in death. “You saved my friends,” he said, and knelt before her. “You gave up everything to save them, and get the Wyrdkey away from Erawan.” He would do the same, if he could survive Morath’s horrors. “I am in your debt.”
Kaltain stared down at where he knelt. “I never had friends of my own. Not as you have. I always envied you for it. You, and Aelin.”
He lifted his head. “You know who she is?”
A hint of a smile. “Death has its advantages.”
He couldn’t stop his next question. “Is—is it better there? Are you at peace?”
“I am not allowed to say,” Kaltain replied softly, her eyes shining with understanding. “And I am not allowed to say who dwells here with me.”
He nodded, fighting past the tightness in his chest,