Cymrian, to Aphenglow’s surprise and confusion, insisted he was coming with her to find the other Druids. She told him it wasn’t necessary; he told her it was. She told him he had done what was required of him; he told her she couldn’t be certain of that.

“You still don’t know who was responsible for sending those men to steal the diary and perhaps try to kill you. You don’t know another attempt won’t be made, even if you aren’t in Arborlon. I took the job as your protector, and I don’t think it’s time for me to give it up yet. Unless, of course, you are dismissing me.”

“No, no, I wouldn’t do that.” She felt frustrated, trapped by her sense of obligation to him. “It’s just that you’ve done so much already, and I don’t want you to feel you have to do anything more.”

He smiled enigmatically. “What else do I have to do that matters? I’ve done exactly what I wanted to do by becoming your protector. All I’m asking is to be allowed to continue.”

It was impossible to argue with him, so she let it go.

“I’ll feel better knowing he’s with you,” Arling told her later as they walked back together to their cottage. Cymrian had gone, having obtained Aphen’s agreement that he could go with her. “If I can’t go, at least he can.”

Aphen nodded noncommittally. “I suppose.” She thought about it for a minute. “I guess I just don’t understand why he’s so insistent about this. You would think he would be glad not to have to put himself at risk for me any more than he already has.”

Her sister laughed out loud. “You still don’t understand, do you?”

Aphen frowned. “Understand what?”

Arling shook her head. “I can’t tell you. I promised.”

“Tell me what?”

Her sister shook her head. “I can’t talk about it. In fact, I refuse to talk about it. You’ll just have to figure it out on your own.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

Aphenglow was awake before sunrise the following morning. She dressed, slipped out of the house, and sat on the veranda steps to wait for Arling to join her. She had promised to walk her down to the Gardens of Life, where Arling would participate in the ritual greeting of the new day in the presence of the Ellcrys. By then, the sun would have risen and the day would have arrived; Aphen would be airborne and winging her way west.

In her head, she had already departed.

It was only a few minutes later before Arling was beside her, dressed and ready. “Sleep well?” her sister asked.

“I dreamed of him,” she answered.

Arling knew who she meant. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard.”