As she guides me up the stairs, I glance over at her, taking in the obvious bump beneath her cotehardie.
“You’re with child,” I say.
She nods, opens my door, and I follow her inside.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“Of course,” she says. “I know how important rest is when you’re carrying a baby.” Her eyes sweep over me. “Though, I imagine, you may carry more than one.”
Affectionately, I rest my hand against my abdomen. “Yes. Twins.”
A wide smile stretches across her mouth and twinkles in her dark eyes. “That’s wonderful. Hector must be so thrilled.”
“Yes.” I nod toward her. “Is Kheldar happy?
The creases near her eyes and mouth tighten. “He’s cautiously happy.”
“What do you mean?”
“We have lost two babies,” she says, her tone teeming with sadness.
That explains her grief when I was here before, the sorrow she couldn’t share with me.
“I’m sorry.”
She exhales and swipes loose strands of her black hair behind her ears. “I believe this time will be different.”
Something compels me to step closer to her. “May I?” I ask as I hold my hands out toward her.
She nods, and I lower them to her stomach. Something else compels me to speak those healing verses, to give her womb healing, to protect it in a way it has never been protected before.
So, I do.
I call on those mending waves, those beautiful waves, that part of myself that is Kyanite, that is light, that is everything a Kyanite healer is supposed to be. Goodness. A glimmer of hope amid darkness. A kyanite shining brighter than any other stone. A raindrop quenching a barren desert.
Pain sears through my serpent mark and tingles through my fingertips as I repeat those ancient words. Wrenley exhales, feeling the effects of my magic.
Tears glisten in her eyes when I pull away. “Thank you, Sol.”
“Of course,” I say, happy to help her.
When she leaves, and the door closes behind her, I lie down on the bed and sink into the mattress, feeling the weight of my travels lift away, replaced by a profound sense of peace.
I stare up at the ceiling, thinking about Wrenley and my Kyanite magic. It’s so beautiful—everything I wanted when I was a child.
If everyone from the Kyanite tribe felt like I do when I heal, they wouldn’t be at odds with the other tribes. They’re always scrambling to find a way to the top. Always fighting. Always carrying a heart full of bitterness inside them.
Maybe that’s the real reason they placed that mark on my life. They didn’t want the Bloodstone to have their magic again.
They must view Tarrobane as a mountain to be conquered. They haven’t realized that it is a sphere, with no top or bottom. A single harmonious unit.
As I drift to sleep, I think about that sphere, how there are supposed to be equal sides, carrying us toward the summit…and the gods.
ChapterForty
Rain slips down the windowpanes, creating a soothing symphony of pattering sounds as I move around the bedchamber, straightening bottles and smoothing the crumpled bedcovers. It gives me something to do after my nap.
My two companions watch me from the windowsill, their eyes following me as I move around the bedchamber.
