Harshini

had left behind.

“Will they be all right, Brak?”

“Yes. Shananara is right, you know. Things are as they should be.”

She turned to look at him, puzzled by the sadness in his voice.

“Korandellan was a good King, but he never stepped foot outside Sanctuary. Shanan has been walking among humans since she was a child. She'll rule the Harshini much more effectively now that they have gone back among humans than Koran ever could.”

“But you still grieve for Korandellan, don't you?”

He nodded. “He was a good friend.”

“How many good friends have you lost for me, Brak?”

“More than you will ever know.”

She had no answer for that and darkness was falling rapidly over the deserted fortress.

Brak jumped down from the balustrade and held out his hand to her. “We'd better make sure this place is empty before you send it away.”

She took his hand and jumped down beside him and together they walked back into the silent, empty halls.

CHAPTER 51

The last room they checked was Brak's. R'shiel looked about in fascination, seeing a side of him she never suspected. There was an easel by the window with a half-completed landscape resting on it. Leaning against the wall near the bed was a beautifully crafted lyre, and beside it a thick pile of music. She picked the lyre up and strummed the strings thoughtfully. Brak looked up from papers he was sorting through on the table on the other side of the room and frowned.

“Please don't touch anything, R'shiel.”

“I didn't know you played.”

“I used to.”

“I didn't know you painted, either.”

“There's a lot you don't know about me.”

She replaced the lyre carefully and sat on the bed. “Why did Death say he would meet you again soon?”

Brak shrugged. “He's a sociable sort of fellow.”

“I noticed,” she said with a smile, hoping to lighten his mood. He had grown ever more morose the longer they spent in Sanctuary's echoing, silent rooms. “Korandellan told you to face Death secure in that knowledge that your sacrifice is not in vain. Shananara asked if she would see you again, too. Why would she say that?”

“Ask her.”

Brak was shifting papers across the table without purpose. She had angered him and couldn't understand why.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No... look, why don't you go and see if there's any other rooms on this level we haven't checked? I'll meet you on the terrace when I'm finished here.”

She rose to her feet, a little hurt that he was dismissing her so coldly. “Can't I help?”

“No.”

“Brak...”

“Out!”

R'shiel jumped at the anger in his voice. “What did I do to deserve that?”

“Right now, you're breathing!” he retorted. “That's enough.”

“What's gotten into you, Brak? This isn't my fault, you know.”

“Actually, R'shiel, it is your fault. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone while I sort out my things. I'm not likely to get another chance.”

“Fine!” she declared. “Take all the time you want. I'm not going anywhere!”

R'shiel stormed from the room and ran down the long hall, her footsteps loud and discordant in the dark, silent halls. She stopped when she reached the balcony overlooking the valley, angry and hurt by Brak's sudden rejection. The waterfall tinkled musically down the rock face on the other side of the valley, although the perpetual rainbow had been swallowed by the half-light that passed for night here. The sound soothed her. She had done nothing to deserve Brak's anger that she could recall. No more than usual, at any rate.

His sudden intolerance mystified her. She tried to recall everything that had happened since they arrived at Sanctuary. Nothing sprang to mind that would make him turn on her like that. Except when she questioned him about Death. He'd been rather touchy about that up on the terrace, too. And why, in the name of the Founders, did he suddenly decide to sort his papers out? Anyone would think...

With the thought only half completed, R'shiel ran back to Brak's room and threw open the door. She glared at him accusingly, tears blurring her vision, anger and grief battling each other for dominance.

“It's you!”

“What?”

“It's you, isn't it? The life you traded for mine? ‘A life of equal value,’ that's what you said. You told me you traded someone's life for mine when Joyhinia almost killed me. You bargained with Death and offered your life to save mine, didn't you? That's why Death said your deal was almost done. It's why Shananara asked if she would ever see you again. You damned, sentimental, self-sacrificing, half-breed, bastard idiot!”

Brak stared at her for a moment and then looked away. His anger had faded. He looked simply resigned. “It doesn't matter.”

She crossed the room and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to look at her. “How could you?”

“How could I not?” he asked her softly.

She wiped away her tears angrily and punched his arm. “You can't do this to me! You can't do it to yourself. I don't deserve it. Founders, Brak, what am I supposed to do? Spend the rest of my life - all ten thousand years of it - knowing I'm alive because you squandered your life on me?”

She tried to hit him again but Brak pulled her close and held her while she sobbed. She could not believe what he had done, or the guilt such knowledge had burdened her with.

“There, there,” he said, as if he was comforting a small child. “It's too late to do anything about it now.”

“Why did you do it?” she cried, her face buried in his chest.

“I only had one life to bargain with, R'shiel. To offer another life would have been murder.”

“You could have let him take me.”

Brak kissed the top of her head and lifted her chin with the tip of his finger. With his thumb he gently wiped away a tear. “No. That I couldn't do.”

For a timeless moment he looked at her. Then he kissed her, lightly, his lips just brushing hers, as if he expected her to pull away from him. It sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. There was a world of promise behind his kiss, so different from Tarja's artificially imposed desire that it left her unable to breathe. R'shiel stared at him in wonder, suddenly understanding the source of her anger, the reason for her grief. This moment had been long in the making, she realised, simmering at the back of their often-volatile, strangely dependent relationship, waiting for an opportunity to catch them unawares.

R'shiel reached up, running her fingers through his dark hair and pulled his head down towards hers, with the certain knowledge that no god had interfered in his desire, no geas had imposed feelings for her that he did not want to own. He pulled her even closer, the slow burning heat of his desire searing away her doubts. He kissed her neck, her ear and then her mouth again, then broke away from her embrace suddenly and took her face in his hands.