“He must have spoken at some point,” I said.
“Yes, he did. And those words I will never forget. ‘You have had many years of unhappiness,’ he said, ‘but now that time is over. Now, you must be happy. For every day you are happy, you are proving to Geth that he has not won.’”
I remained silent. Happiness was one emotion I had not felt much lately. It was an elusive feeling, one I imagined would possibly never be part of my life again. And I knew the reason why.
Kull.
That chasm at the bottom of my heart was still raw and empty, and I was sure I would never be able to fill it in because Kull would never be mine. But wasn’t there some way to find happiness without him?
“Heidel,” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, “are you happy now?”
She paused before speaking. “I am happy more often than not, which is better than my circumstances were before.”
Her words gave me hope. She’d experienced horrors beyond my comprehension, yet she was happy.
“I don’t wish to disturb you any longer,” she said. “I will leave you to your task.” She left the clearing without another word.
After she’d gone, I stared at the half-filled water skins. A feeling of confusion settled in the place where my anger had been. It seemed I’d misjudged Heidel, and perhaps I’d even misjudged her brother.
Now, instead of feeling anger toward Kull, I felt sorry for him. I hadn’t once thought of things from his perspective. What must it be like for him to rule an entire kingdom before he was ready—and at the same time deal with the death of his father?
After finishing my task, I gathered the filled skins and made it back to camp. Heidel had returned to patching the door, and a fire blazed in front of the elder tree. Kull sat on the felled log near the fire, and he looked up as I approached.
I dodged his gaze, feeling sheepish and a little awkward as I laid the water skins on the ground near the fire.
“Here,” I said. “I can boil the water if you’d like.”
He paused a moment, then pulled a tin pot from his bag. I took the pot from him and knelt by the fire. Having him so near while I worked made me feel self-conscious. I tried to focus on uncorking the water flask, pouring it into the pot, and placing it on the fire, but I felt his eyes on me the entire time.
When I finished, I gratefully backed away and let him add a packet of ingredients to the water.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Dried meat and root plants. We use satchels like these on long expeditions and while camping on the battlefield. They are quite handy.”
“And a bit bland,” Heidel said, seated on a log near the forest’s edge.
“It seems you’ve thought of everything,” I said.
Kull shrugged. “The ways of Wults haven’t changed much in the past thousand years. We survive the same way our ancestors did.” He used a stick cleaned of its bark to stir the dried plants and meat into the water.
The fire crackled, and the smell of wood smoke permeated the air. Evening turned to dusk, and with the call of bog-beasts resounding from the forest, Heidel finished weaving the door and secured it to the tree’s opening.
“It will not be effective at keeping anything out,” she said, frowning. “The best it will do is camouflage the opening.”
“It will suffice,” Kull said.
“I could create a ward to keep anything out, but my magic would also call the attention of magical beasts prowling the woods,” I said.
“Then perhaps you should not use your magic,” Heidel said. “It may be best not to attract attention.”
“I disagree,” Kull said. “The creature that attacked me was intelligent. The creatures here may be no different. They will operate with the element of surprise. If they wish to catch us unaware, tonight would be the time to do it. Even if one of us takes watch, it may not be enough.”
Heidel glanced at me. “Then perhaps it would be best to ward the door.”
I glanced at the door. Creating a ward was easy enough, and I would have to make sure the enchantment allowed us to pass through it while keeping everything else out, which wouldn’t be too difficult, but with my emotions still a mess and my Earth and Faythander magics resisting one another, I knew I would need to take it slow.
“You’ll both need to stand back,” I said.
The two Wults moved behind me as I readied my magic. Amber and blue swirls of light formed around my outstretched hands. Focusing on the door, I calmed my mind and concentrated on taking deep, controlled breaths.
“Protect,” I whispered the magical word. Whorls of light spread outward, and the glowing tendrils wrapped around the door.
Magic drained from my body, and before I realized what was happening, my head spun. The forest dimmed in my vision and then grew black.
Am I underwater? I can’t breathe. But no, I can’t be underwater, so why can’t I breathe?
My lungs screamed for air, yet no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t catch my breath. Sounds were muffled. There were screams—shouts, maybe? No, no way to tell.
Must get air. I need to breathe!
I awoke, gasping, breathing in too quickly, I choked, then coughed and sputtered. The forest spun in my vision—dark limbs against a star-filled sky. A glowing full moon. The bonfire popping. My hands and feet were so cold I couldn’t move them, and panic welled inside me.
“Breathe,” a man’s voice said.
I lay on my side, and tears leaked from my eyes as I inhaled the cold forest air. As my
