“Nobody meant to hurt you, R’shiel. They did it to protect you.”
“Did they know how much it would hurt when it wore off?”
“Probably not. Harshini don’t really understand human emotions. But when you came here, you were dying. They did what they had to.”
She wiped her eyes impatiently. “I know that. That’s what makes it so infuriating. You have no idea how hard it is to stay angry at these people.”
“I do know,” he assured her. “Better than you, girl. I’ve lived between two worlds for centuries.”
She glanced at him curiously. “Will I live as long as you?”
Brak shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose you will. Most half-humans seem to inherit Harshini longevity. You might fall off this precipice at any moment too, so don’t tie yourself into knots trying to predict the future.”
“Is that how you get by?”
“That and large quantities of mead,” he replied with a thin smile.
She looked at him sharply then smiled when she realised he was joking. “You don’t really fit in here, do you Brak?”
“No more than I fit in a human world. But don’t let my inability to find my niche in the world deter you from trying to find yours.”
“I was under the impression my niche was already carved in stone,” she pointed out sourly. “I am the demon child, am I not?”
“R’shiel, nobody is going to make you face Xaphista until you’re ready. Stop worrying about it. If you really are meant to tackle Xaphista, there will come a time when you won’t need to be asked. You’ll want to do it.”
“I can’t see that happening anytime soon.”
“As I said, don’t tie yourself into knots trying to predict the future.”
R’shiel did not answer him for a while. She stared out over the mountains, idly scratching the young demon behind its large wrinkled ear. Finally she turned to him, the tears under control for the time being.
“Does Tarja think I’m dead?”
The question surprised him a little. He had not expected her to be able to think things through so rationally yet. The first time he had broken through a glamour designed to suppress his emotions, he’d been incoherent for days.
“I suppose so. Nobody has told him otherwise that I’m aware of.”
“He’s done his grieving then,” she sighed. “And I will live to see him whither and die an old man. I’m not sure I can deal with that.”
“The way Tarja finds trouble, it’ll be a bloody
She frowned at his poor attempt at humour. “You’re pretty tactless, for a Harshini, aren’t you?”
“I’m the bane of their existence,” he agreed. “At least I was until you came along and relieved me of the title. However, it seems I am doomed to serve your cause, whether I like it or not.”
“There’s no need to be so gallant about it.” She turned back to the glorious view and was silent for a time before she spoke. “I wish I knew what to do, Brak.”
“What do you
“I want to go home. But there’s a small problem. I don’t seem to
“No, that’s probably not a good idea,” he agreed with a faint smile.
“What happened to Joyhinia?” she asked abruptly. “Did Tarja kill her?”
“Dacendaran stole her intellect. Then Tarja destroyed it. She lives, but she’s as innocent and harmless as a child, now. I suppose she’s on the border with the Defenders. We’d have heard if she returned to the Citadel in that condition.”
“And this Hythrun who is helping Tarja, what’s he like?”
“Damin Wolfblade? You’d like him. He’s almost as good at finding trouble as Tarja. I sometimes think it was a mistake bringing those two together. I’m not sure the world is ready for either of them.”
“And Lord Draco?”
Brak sighed heavily. “R’shiel, if you’re so anxious to see how they are,
“Were you destined to kill my father?”
Brak stared at her, aghast at the question. It took him a moment to recover himself enough to answer her. “I don’t know, R’shiel. Perhaps I was. One of the advantages of being
“Korandellan says you’ve been trying to outrun your destiny your whole life.”
“Does Korandellan often discuss my failings with you?”
“He uses you to illustrate the pitfalls of being half-human.”
Brak scowled at her but offered no comment.
“You think I should go back, don’t you?” she sighed.
“It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s what you think that counts.”
“I’m afraid,” she admitted.
“Of what?” he asked curiously. “Tarja?”
She nodded. “I’m afraid he’s accepted that I’m dead. Suppose he’s moved on? Suppose he’s found someone else?”
Brak snorted impatiently. “Suppose you stop being such an idiot! Gods, R’shiel! Zegarnald was right. You’re turning into a mouse. Have a bit of faith, girl! The man loves you. Six months wondering if you’re dead isn’t going to change that. If it has, then he never loved you in the first place, so you might as well be rid of him. Either way, put us all out of our misery and go find out for yourself instead of sitting here on the top of a mountain bemoaning your lot in life.” He did not add that Kalianah had made certain Tarja would never love another. She did not need to know that.
R’shiel glared at him, startled at his outburst. Months of the eternally accommodating Harshini had left her unprepared for a little human aggravation.
“Don’t tell me what to do!”
“Why not? That’s what you’ve been asking me. You want me to tell you what you should do, so that if it doesn’t work out you won’t have to blame yourself. Well, thanks, R’shiel, but I have enough of my own burdens to lug around without taking on yours as well.”
He watched the anger flare in her violet eyes with relief. Her spirit was still there, underneath the shock from the glamour and the effects of her time spent in the smothering peace of Sanctuary. It was rare that he agreed with the War God, but in this case, Zegarnald was right. R’shiel would wither if she stayed here much longer. This girl had faced down three hundred angry rebels, she had been raped, imprisoned, and mortally wounded by the woman she grew up thinking was her mother. None of it had been able to break her. But much longer within Sanctuary’s calming walls and the human shell that had protected her inner strength would be dissolved.
Pushing the demon from her lap, she scrambled to her feet and brushed down the leathers before turning on him. “I don’t need you to tell me what I want to do. I’ll go where I want, when I want, and you can go to the lowest of the Seven Hells, for all I care!”
She stormed off down the path, the little demon tumbling in her wake. Brak watched her go with a faint smile.
“Deftly handled, Lord Brakandaran.”
Brak turned towards the deep voice, unsurprised to find the old demon Dranymire behind him. “I thought you’d be around somewhere. You could have helped, you know.”
The little demon sat down beside Brak with a smug expression. “If she had fallen off this cliff, I would have been there in an instant. But some things are best left to one’s own kind.”
“It’s not my responsibility to protect her. That’s supposed to be your job.”
Dranymire nodded sagely. “And protect her I will, Brakandaran,” he said. “But I can only save her from outside danger. I cannot save her from herself.”
