He looked so peaceful, lying there. Venette had seen him stripped of his passion-wrecked clothing and dressed soberly, properly, in dark blue silk. His arms lay quietly by his side. The magic that bound him was as fierce now as in the moment she’d trapped him in it.

Leaving the glimfire to hover in the doorway, she crossed to the bed. Sat gently beside him and took his lax hand in hers. It was warm, the fingers pliable. His broad chest moved up and down. His unbound hair, like spun silk, drank the lamplight and glowed soft gold. His beautiful eyes were hidden from her. He couldn’t see her. He didn’t smile.

After tonight, she might never see him again. All the things she’d come here meaning to say. The apologies. The excuses. The fervent declarations of love.

She kissed him once, lightly, and left him to sleep.

Chapter Thirty-four

Chapter Thirty-four

Next morning, after a painfully restless night, Barl wasn’t sure Remmie would come to her at the College, even though she’d asked him nicely, and even though he’d said he’d be there. Such a chasm had opened between them, anger and hurt and disappointment scouring away all the common ground of childhood and their years of sharing a home. It seemed he could not forgive her for Morgan, even though he’d forgiven her for so much else.

In her smaller, petty moments she thought his resentments sprang from jealousy. He’d turned his back on love, for her sake, only to see her find a love larger than he could hope to dream of. So of course he resented that. Resented her. Of course he was bitter. At least, she told herself that was the reason when he mostly ignored her during her hasty meetings with him and Venette Martain and sometimes Dreen Brislyn, why he didn’t reply to her notes, and avoided every chance of seeing her in the scant, scattered moments they had to themselves.

But in her heart she knew better, and always regretted the harsh thoughts afterwards. If Remmie was wounded, she had wounded him, and he had every right to his pain and carefully guarded distance. Besides, it wasn’t only his reluctance to face her that kept them apart. He was as busy as she, working hand in glove with Venette to keep the surviving mages of Elvado from drowning in dismay, or succumbing to hopelessness and surrendering to fear. In leading great workings in the most vulnerable areas of the city. The workings’ successes were few and haphazard, Dorana’s unravelling a stubborn foe, but even a tiny glimmer of progress kept hope alive.