Page 186 of Children of Fallen Gods

Don’t be silly,I tried to tell him.It’s a festival. Everyone is dancing. Let’s go.

But he simply shook his head, lost in thought.

“It isn’t over,” he said. And then his gaze found mine, suddenly alert, sharper than everything else in this dream world. “It isn’t over,” he told me, again, “and I don’t have enough time.”

He reached out and touched my face, as if to see if it was real. But I was already fading, even though I tried desperately to cling to the dream, to his touch, to his aliveness.

“I wish I had more time,” he murmured.

I did too, I thought. There would never be enough time.

* * *

My eyes opened.The sun was bright and hot. My neck ached. I was on my stomach.

It took a few wonderful, horrible moments for me to remember what had happened. All of the deaths. I closed my eyes and let them hit me all over again.

Then, slowly, I pushed myself up. I was still in pain, but this, at least, was manageable. Ishqa was a few feet away, leaning over a fire, over which he was cooking a small rabbit. His hair was windblown, his clothing dirty, his eyes tired.

“You healed me,” I said. My voice came out in a ragged croak.

“I did my best. It’s not my strength.”

“It helps. Thank you.”

I crawled towards the fire and settled beside it, wincing as all of my muscles protested in their own individual ways. My head was pounding. And my heart — my heart hurt.

Ishqa did not look at me. He pulled the rabbit off the fire and began to cut the meat with his knife, offering me pieces. I shook my head.

“If you don’t eat anything,” he said, “you are not going to be able to travel anywhere effectively.”

He was right. I begrudgingly took some, though I had to force it down.

“Where did you go?” I asked, and Ishqa shot me a look I couldn’t read.

“I woke up a few times,” I added, “and you were gone.”

He turned back to the rabbit, very focused on his task. “I flew north.”

“Why?”

“I needed to see what happened to the treaty.”

That got my attention. I discarded my attempts at even trying to have an appetite. “And?”

“Your war general spoke the truth. Your father turned on the Wyshraj that were living within Sidnee walls.”

I felt as if all of the blood had left my body at once.

Still, Ishqa did not look at me. “Most of our army was killed. Sidnee soldiers even marched on the House of Wayward Winds.”

My fingernails were digging into my palms. “Your sister?”

“She’s injured, but she will live.”

“And your son?”

“Safe.” Then he muttered beneath his breath, as if he had not intended to speak aloud, “And the Sidnee should thank the gods for it.”

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