water has slowed the dying of her brain, too far gone it is now. If you cast Varrin’s spell to imprison her in this body, she will only know silent torture for the rest of her days. But you would have her with you. Is that not all you want?”
Burning agony surged up his chest, shuddering his breath through his clenched teeth. A body was not all he wanted. He needed her. Lizzan. His strong, generous, softhearted wife. The girl who had fearlessly said his name. The woman who had given her heart and her trust unrestrained. Nothing was Aerax without her.
“Will you be as Varrin, and trap her here in this way?”
Throat hot and aching, Aerax shook his head. Never would he imprison her. But she would not be trapped. She’d wanted to stay.
And he’d promised to fight to keep her.
The goddess came closer, wearing Seri’s face, but nothing of the girl did Aerax see in her. “Will you have her rot?”
“I would have you find Nemek so they can heal her first,” he said, his voice a shredded rasp.
Rani laughed. “Do you think they will trust you? After what Varrin did to them?”
“Tell them it is the girl who once killed a fly for them, and then scratched their itching nose.” He traced shaking fingers down her still face. “Ask them to come for her.”
“And will you trap them?”
“I will free them, too.”
For a long moment the goddess stared at him, lightning firing through the black of her eyes. Then the girl collapsed to the ground, gaze fixed unblinking up at the sky.
“Seri!” Tyzen dropped to his knees beside her as Kelir grabbed her up against his chest, fingers pressing for the pulse in her neck. Ardyl sank to the ground behind him, her arms circling his shoulders and tears spilling down her cheeks.
“How fares our sister?”
“She breathes,” the warrior said, voice breaking. “Her heart beats.”
“Will you not move aside for an old traveler?” came a reedy voice from behind Preter, whose face drained bloodbare, then filled with joy, then slackened with disbelief as he made room for the withered figure with silver hair and travel-stained feet.
Heart in his throat, Aerax rose with Lizzan in his arms.
“And what am I to do with that pile of flesh?” Nemek asked him. “It is dead, and the heart has no spark.”
“Can you not heal her?”
“The itch-slayer? She is within the bind of my hair, but not bound to that flesh. That, you must do.”
Dread clutched at his heart. “With Varrin’s spell?”
Nemek abruptly laughed. “He was a maggoty measle, true. Ah, very well. I will make certain she does not drown when you bind her.”
“And her brain?”
“I will heal all of her. Now cast your spell.”
The same he’d sworn never to cast beneath the crystal palace. Yet here, he would do anything. With his blood, Aerax made a lock of her necklace, and turned the key.
Her body convulsed and Nemek swiftly pressed their lips to Lizzan’s, blowing softly into her mouth until her lashes fluttered. Aerax’s heart near burst through his chest at the first glimpse of lake blue, and the first breath she took was deep and clear.
“Lizzan?” he asked hoarsely, and she smiled up at him. All the world seemed bright in that moment, his heart full—then abruptly clenching when he saw the tears swimming in her eyes. “Lizzan?”
She sat up in his arms, hands clutching his cheeks. “Nothing are you like Varrin,” she said fiercely. “Nothing.”
“Except the face,” Nemek said.
Aerax had no care if he resembled that monster. For Lizzan was here in his arms . . . and her scars were but faint marks. In wonder, he touched the side of her face. Always she’d been beautiful to him, always he’d seen these scars as a mark of her strength, yet since discovering how they’d also been her curse, he’d not viewed them the same way. Now they were all but gone.
Lizzan’s fingers came up to trace the pale lines, and she asked thickly, “You took these away?”
“Never could they be fully erased, for the deepest scars left were on your heart,” they said. “But the mark is a weight you should not bear. That is a mark meant for those who abandon their quest, and you completed the task my sister gave to you.”
“So I was on a quest?” Lizzan asked.
Nemek smiled faintly. “I think not.”
Perhaps not, yet it seemed to Aerax that a favor had been given—and ought to be returned. In full gratitude, he