"A nice, big, roasted slab of ham." He smacked his lips. "And some hot bread rolls and butter. I haven't had bread in many days; damn hard to find in the north."

She smiled hesitantly. "Bread and ham? Not me. I miss roasted pine nuts mixed with leeks and wild mushrooms. I miss the fine wines of southern vineyards. I miss honey cakes thick with almonds and pistachios." She placed a hand on her belly. "I miss that feeling of being full, lounging by a fireplace, and dreaming."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, look at the fancy princess. Your tastes are far too fine. How could you tolerate a lowly barbarian like me?"

Her smile widened, and she kissed his stubbly cheek. "Part of the terrors of war, I suppose."

He rummaged in his pack and produced a wineskin—their last one. He uncorked it, took a sip, and handed it to her. "It's not fine wine like you're used to. Simple grapes from some riverside farmer, but it'll soothe us tonight. One last night."

She drank and they passed the skin back and forth. Tomorrow they would have nothing more to drink. Tomorrow they might die. Tomorrow the fate of the world would be sealed. Tonight they simply sat, drinking, watching the waves, scared in the dark. Tanin ran his fingers slowly over hers, again and again, and looked at her in the night. She was still facing the sea, and he admired her moonlit cheek, the dark braid that hung across her shoulder, and the strength he saw in her, a quiet strength like a slender oak sapling rising from the ash of a burnt forest.

He found himself thinking back to Ciana, the woman he had loved in his youth, so many years ago in the village of Oldforge. He had kissed Ciana in the fields, vowed to forever love her. And once she had learned his secret, learned that he was Vir Requis, she had screamed. Called for her father to kill him. Became a huntress of dragons herself. For so many years, the pain of that day had clawed at Tanin—the day he'd been banished, the day Ciana had shattered his soul, the day Zerra had murdered his mother.

But now I've found something new to live for, he thought, holding Issari's hand. For Requiem . . . and for you, Issari.