the wound like some obscene splinter, and Araris realized with a shock that several inches of arrow, tipped with the head of volcanic glass, had pierced her deeply.
Darkness fell.
“She lied,” Fade said quietly to Isana. “She was more worried about you than she was herself. She didn’t want to distract me from helping you and the baby.”
Tears blurred her vision, and her heart felt a fresh stab of pain at witnessing Alias death-and then a horrible, crushing mountain of guilt that her little sister had died to save
“I never should have left you both alone,” Fade said. “Not even for a moment. I should have seen what was happening to her. And Tavi…” Fade swallowed. “He never found his furies. It had to have happened during the birthing. The cold maybe. Sometimes a difficult birth can damage the child, impair his mind. If I had only remembered my duty. Used my head. I betrayed him-and you, and Alia and Tavi.”
“Why, Fade?” Isana whispered. “Why do you say that?”
“I can’t,” he whispered. “He was like a brother. It should never have happened.
And then, suddenly, the scene shifted again. Isana and Fade stood back at the Legion camp, just before the attack. Septimus stood before them in his command tent, eyes hard and calculating. A steady stream of orders flowed from his lips, giving commands to his Tribunes as Araris helped him into his armor.
He finished, and the tent emptied as the camp stirred itself to battle. Araris finished the last lacing on the armor and banged hard on Septimus’s armored shoulder, then seized the Princeps helm from its stand and tossed it underhand to Septimus.
“I’ll help ready the command position, “ Araris said. “See you there. “
“Rari,” Septimus said. “Wait.”
Araris paused, frowning back at the Princeps.
“I need you to do something.”
Araris smiled. “I’ll see to it. We’re sending the noncombatants out already. “
“No,” Septimus said. He put a hand on Araris’s shoulder. “I need you to take her out of here yourself.”
Araris stiffened. “What?”
“I want you to take Isana and her sister out.”
“My place is beside you.”
Septimus hesitated for a moment, and glanced to the east with haunted eyes. Then he said, “No. Not tonight it isn’t.”
Araris frowned. “Your Highness? Are you all right?”
Septimus shook himself like a dog shedding water, and the uncertainty vanished from his expression. “Yes. But I think I finally understand what’s been happening since Seven Hills.”
“What do you mean?” Araris asked.
Septimus shook his head and lifted his hand. “There’s no time. I want you to take them to safety.”
“Your Highness, I can assign a mounted unit to escort them out.”
“No. It’s got to be you.”
“Crows, Septimus,” Araris said. “Why?”
Septimus met his eyes directly, and said quietly, “Because I know you’ll take care of her.”
Araris’s eyes widened, and his face went pale. He shook his head. “Sep, no. No, it isn’t like that. I would
The Princeps face suddenly lit in a smile, and he threw back his head in a belly laugh. “Crows. I know that, Rari, you fool. I know you wouldn’t.”
Araris ducked his head, frowning. “Still. I shouldn’t. It isn’t right.”
Septimus thumped a fist down on Araris’s shoulder. “Bah, man. I can’t very well throw stones at anyone who falls in love with her. I did, after all.” He glanced in the direction of the tent he shared with Isana. “She’s something special.”
“She is,” Araris agreed quietly.
Septimus’s face sobered. “It’s got to be you.”
“All right,” Araris said.
“If something happens to me-”
“It won’t,” Araris said firmly.
“We can’t know that,” Septimus said. “No one ever can. It’s got to be you. If something happens to me, I want her to be taken care of.” He glanced back at Araris. “I can’t stand the thought of her and the child being alone. Promise me, Araris.”
Araris shook his head. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” Septimus agreed. “I hope so. But promise me.”
Araris frowned at the Princeps for a moment. Then he jerked his chin in a quick nod. “I’ll watch over her.”
Septimus clapped his arm gently, his tone warm. “Thank you.”
The dream froze, locked into that image.
Fade, beside Isana, stared at the image of Septimus. “I failed him,” he said. Tears rolled down his cheeks, over the burn scars. “I should have stood with him. But when push came to shove… all I wanted was to get you away from the battle. To make sure you were safe.” He bowed his head. “I let my heart guide my head. I let it blind me to my duties. Blind me to possible dangers. Blind me to your sister’s injuries. Blind me to what might happen to the baby.”
He looked up at her, his eyes miserable. “I loved you, Isana. The wife of my best friend, my sword brother. I loved you. And I am ashamed.”
Isana stared at Septimus’s image for a long moment, though dream-tears blurred her dream-vision. “Fade…”
“I can’t make amends for my mistakes,” Fade said. “The blood won’t ever be washed from my hands. Let me go. There’s nothing left for me here.”
Isana turned to face Fade and reached out to cup his face between her pale, slender hands. She could feel his anguished guilt, feel the pain, the self-recrimination, the bottomless well of regret.
“What happened,” she said quietly, “was not of your making. It was horrible. I hate that it happened. But you didn’t cause it to be so.”
“Isana… “ Fade whispered.
“You’re only human,” Isana said over him. “We make mistakes.”
“But mine…” Araris shook his head. “I had a hand in this war, as well. Had Septimus lived, he would have been the greatest First Lord Alera has ever known. He’d have a strongly gifted heir. A gracious, compassionate wife at his side. And none of this would be happening.”
“Perhaps,” Isana said gently. “Perhaps not. But you can’t hold the actions of thousands and thousands of other people against yourself. You’ve got to let it go.”
“I can’t.”
“You can,” Isana said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Tavi,” Fade said.
“That isn’t your fault either, Fade.” Isana drew a breath. “It’s mine.”
Fade blinked at her for a moment. “What?”
“I did it to him,” Isana said quietly. “When he was still a baby. Whenever I bathed him, I would think about what it would mean if he showed his father’s talents. How it would draw attention to him. How it would mark him as Gaius’s heir. As a target for the power-hungry maniacs of the Realm intent on seizing the throne. At first, I didn’t realize what I was doing to him.” She met his eyes steadily. “But when I did… I didn’t stop, Fade. I pushed harder. I stunted his growth so that he would look younger than his age, so that it would seem to be impossible that he was Septimus’s child. And in doing it, I stunted his mind, somehow. I prevented his talents from ever emerging, until the water furies around the Steadholt were so used to it that I hardly needed to think about it at all.
“Unlike you,” she said, “I knew precisely what I was doing. And so in that, I am as much to blame for this war as you are.”
“No, Isana,” Fade said.
