Page 163 of A Flame of the Phoenix

It had been some hours since the dark fae and Izaiah had left, but Tarly couldn’t sleep. He tossed against his awkward arrangement on the sacks for some time before he sensed he wasn’t the only restless mind tonight.

“Are you awake?” Marlowe whispered softly. She’d crossed to him with careful silence.

“Yes.”

She didn’t say anything else before she came all the way over, and when she sat against the wall next to him, Tarly got up too. They sat side by side in a strange silence for moment. He couldn’t place what was wrong, only that his gut was unsettled as if he were bracing in the calm before a storm.

“It’s terrible, isn’t it, feeling death’s touch grow warmer but never knowing when it’ll claim?”

Tarly’s chest sped a little. He couldn’t fathom her gift of being an oracle. In fact, he didn’t think “gift”was an appropriate term for the burden of knowledge she carried.

“Do you speak of yourself?” he asked carefully.

“What I see is not always so clear.”

“You knew I’d come here.” He’d suspected it. At first, he’d thought her kind reception was just her nature, but over theweek, he’d caught glimpses of her that had felt more accurate than that.

Marlowe didn’t answer. Tarly stiffened when she took his hand, only briefly, to place something cool into his palm. He knew what it was before he looked down at the bottle.

“I have no use for this,” he said.

“You’ll know what to do with it,” Marlowe said, her voice so soothing he didn’t know why it inspired sympathy for her.

“If you’re planning something?—”

“I’m not.” She cut him off.

Tarly pursed his lips, fiddling with the vial of Phoenix Blood.

“You must have a plan to get out of here, but what are you waiting for?” Tarly asked.

“I don’t have any plan, but I wondered if I could ask something of you.”

“If I can grant it, I will.”

“Make sure Jakon gets out when the time comes.”

His head turned to her, and an urge to protect her filled his chest. “You’re getting out together.”

“But if something goes wrong, he’ll need someone to force him to leave even if I have to stay.”

“Marlowe…you have to tell him this?—”

“I can’t. You’ve seen how he is, fiercely loyal and so brave. He’ll fight no matter what, but I fear it might get him killed.”

She choked on the last word, and Tarly’s whole body flushed cold. Had she seen a vision of her husband’s death? Tarly couldn’t fathom such a burden; was sure he would go insane if he harbored a possible fate to pass where Nerida could die.

“Please,” she whispered at his silence.

“I promise,” he said. He had to. “I’ll look out for both of you.”

She smiled, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. “The most silent warriors can make the greatest impact, Tarly Wolverlon. I hope you never forget that.”

Tarly mustered a small smile, but his gut was unsettled with a need to protect the gentle human. He just didn’t know what from.

“You’ve had the ability to make these potions far faster all this time,” Tarly said, not leaving it to question.

“Yes. I’ve been buying time.”

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