Was he free? Had he freed himself? Weeping, she tried to feel him as he could feel her. But all she felt was rage and grief. Were those passions his… or hers? She couldn’t tell.

“You are mine, Barl. For ever and always. Come home, my love. I’ll keep you safe.”

“You won’t. You can’t. Oh, Morgan, don’t you know what you’ve become?”

“Of course, my love. I am the greatest mage the world has ever known.”

“The greatest murderer,” she told him, still weeping. “The greatest monster. You should’ve told me what you were planning, Morgan. I could’ve stopped you. I could’ve saved Rumm. And now it’s too late. You’re lost.”

His fury drenched her dreamworld scarlet. “Lost? Not lost, you foolish girl. Found. And when I find you, you’ll find—”

“You’ll never find me, Morgan. Not in the flesh. Not in the world. Soon I’ll be gone from you, far, far away, and the mages I stopped you from killing, they’ll—”

She felt him strike her, as though they raged at each other face to face. The pain was shocking.

“You will not leave me, Barl! I forbid it! You bitch, you slut, you treacherous whore! You will not—”

“Barl! Barl! For pity’s sake, wake up!”

She opened her eyes, panting, fingers pressed to her wet, burning cheek. On his knees beside her cot, Remmie snatched her wrist and pulled her hand away. Turned milk-pale, staring, then slumped on his heels. Released her. His breathing in her small tent sounded ragged and loud.

“There’s a handprint on your face,” he said dully. “So it’s not just a dream, is it? Somehow he’s really found you.”

His pain hurt more keenly than the blow from Morgan’s mind. “I tried to tell you, Remmie.”

“Yes,” he whispered. “You did.”

Weeping again, she sat up and reached for him. “Don’t be afraid. He’s not free yet. Maybe he never will be. My binding could still hold.”

Remmie shook his head. “You don’t believe that. If you believed it, you’d never—” His voice broke. “Prove you believe it, Barl. Abandon this mad plan.”

She let her hand fall. “I can’t, Remmie. I can’t take that chance.”

“Yes, you can,” he said harshly. “For me, you can. Barl, you owe me that much. For Irielle, you owe me.”

And that was a second blow, even crueller than Morgan’s. “Remmie.”

His eyes flint hard, he pushed unsteadily to his feet. “But you won’t. Because you’re Barl Lindin, and you have to be right.”

She scrambled off the cot. “I am right! Remmie, d’you think I’d do this if—”

“You’ve slept the day away,” he said, stepping back. “The Olken are gathering now. I’ll go and tell Venette and Elder Chaffie you’re coming.”

“No, Remmie, wait, I—”