“I do,” Costi said. “I always did.”
“Always?”
“Well, maybe my faith was shaken for a little. But it survived. Can you hear that sound, Jena?”
“Yes.” I shuddered. “They’re not very far off, are they?
Dr?agu?ta must be leading them in circles.”
We reached the round pond. Sorrow was sitting on the 391
ground, the cup still in his hand, and Paula was holding his arm, helping to support it. When he saw my sister limp and white in Costi’s arms with her hair spilling down to the ground, he sprang up. But even then he held the vessel balanced, not allowing the least drop to fall.
“Tatiana! No—please, no!” Sorrow sounded very young, utterly distraught, and entirely human.
“She’s breathing,” I told him as Costi came closer. Sorrow reached out a trembling hand to touch Tati’s dark hair. His eyes were full of terror. “But only just. If you think taking her to the Other Kingdom will save her life, then you must take her now.”
“Who has done this to her?” Sorrow’s customary cool air was completely gone. His voice swung between fury and an-guish.
“Lack of food and creeping despair,” I said. “I think if anyone can mend this, it’s probably you. She started to lose her faith in true love.”
“But . . . ,” began Sorrow, incredulously. Then we heard the hounds again, much closer, and the shouts of men: “Down there!
Heading for the pond!”
Costi knelt and laid Tati on the ground with her head on Paula’s knee. “Jena,” he murmured, “I’ll try to keep them off. But it won’t be for long.” With that, he strode away toward the torches that could now be seen again, flaring under the trees not far up the hill. My heart was in my mouth as I watched him go, then turned to the others.
“Wake up, Tati!” I gave her cheek a gentle slap. “Tati, please!”
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Costi could be heard giving what sounded like a series of calm instructions. The men had gone quiet; the dogs still gave voice, perhaps scenting us within range of a short bolt through the bushes and a quick snap of the jaws. I rose to my feet, craning to see whether they were any closer.
“Sorrow!” Paula’s voice was sharp with alarm. “The quest!
What are you doing?”
Sorrow had put one arm around Tati’s shoulders, lifting her to a sitting position. Her head lolled against his shoulder. Now he raised the cup—the brimming cup that was a requirement of Ileana’s quest—and set it to her lips. “Drink, heart’s dearest,”
he whispered. “Drink and be well again.”
In the space between one breath and the next, Tati opened her mouth and drank, and it was too late to say a word. I did not know if what filled the cup came from our own world or the other. She drank, and the vessel was no longer full. Her frailty had stricken Sorrow with such terror that he had sacrificed the quest. He would let her go rather than see her die in his arms. This was the embodiment of true love in all its wonder and sadness. How could I ever have thought his intentions evil?
Tati opened her eyes and looked at Sorrow. His face was filled with love and longing and fear. She lifted a hand to touch his cheek. A flush of color crept back over her lovely, wasted features. “My love,” she murmured. “You’re here.” Then she put up her arms and embraced him, and he almost dropped the cup.
“Give that to me,” said Paula briskly. “It’s all right, it’s only for a moment.” Taking the cup, she knelt down by the pond and scooped up water in her hand, dribbling it in until the vessel 393
was once more full to the brim. I stared at her. “Do you have a better suggestion?” she queried, brows raised.
Sorrow helped Tati to her feet. She was unsteady, but could stand with support.
“Tati.” I could hardly speak for the lump in my throat.
“You’ll have to make a choice. There’s a hunting party just up the hill. Costi may be the new master of Varful cu Negur?a, but he can’t keep them at bay forever.”
“Will you come with me, Tatiana?” Sorrow’s voice was so hesitant and sweet—so full of care, of love—that it made my heart turn over.
“I love you,” Tati whispered, resting her brow against Sorrow’s shoulder. “I will come.”
“Paula,” I said, clearing my throat, “give Sorrow the cup.”
But it was Tati who took it, between hands grown so delicate they seemed transparent as white moths in the moonlight.
She held the cup perfectly steady. Sorrow adjusted the bag on his back, then lifted her in his arms.
“Goodbye, Paula,” Tati murmured, her head cradled against Sorrow’s shoulder. “Tell Father I love him, and I’m sorry if I’ve made him sad. Say farewell to Iulia, and Stela, and to Florica and Petru, and . . . Oh, Jena, I’ll miss you so much.”
“Be happy, Tati,” I told her through my tears. “I hope and pray that we’ll meet again someday.”
Tati said nothing more. Her eyes were on the pale face of her beloved. Her expression told me she had been moving down this pathway since the very first time she set eyes on him. I saw 394
that in him she had found her sun and moon, her stars and her dreams.
Sorrow moved toward the rock wall. I could see no cave, no crevice, no crack wide enough for anyone to pass
