“The mark is better than becoming part of the statuary.”
“The statues probably chose to live as they live. You didn’t choose this mark.”
It was true. But the markcouldbe removed, and in the end, she’d let it be. She’d left it on her face because it had practical use. And perhaps for other complicated reasons she really didn’t have time to think about right now. But if she’d known it would cause a total collapse of the relationship between the two brothers, she would have made a different choice.
“I don’t understand Annarion’s anger. I mean, I’m the one who has the mark. I’m not angry about it.”
Mandoran nodded. “You never expected better from your fieflord.”
“But... I think everything Nightshade did, he did because he believed his brother was both alive and still himself. He wanted to free his brother. He risked everything.”
“It’s between the two of them. Don’t attempt to carry it.”
“I’m already carrying part of it—I’m here, aren’t I?” She grimaced. “Tell Annarion that I didn’t mean that. I’ve just had a long day, and I’m feeling more useless than usual.”
“I think that’s what Helen was trying to tell you,” Mandoran replied. “You aren’t useless. Instant success isn’t an option—but success might be if we still struggle to reach it. Without you, I don’t think we stand a chance.”
Hope squawked.
She was put out with Hope. Yvonne hadn’t immediately understood his angry bird sounds, which had been a bit of a comfort to Kaylin. But Hope hadchangedsomething so that Yvonne could. Yvonne. A stranger who wasn’t Kaylin. It was so easy to resent people who had done nothing wrong. Yvonne had done nothing wrong. Kaylin even liked her—but Yvonne had somehow been extended a courtesy that Hope almost never extended to Kaylin.
Hope squawked again, and this time it was definitely the angry bird variety. He smacked her face with his wing.
In the wing view, she could see Nightshade in the darkness. He was surrounded by it; the only light that touched him came from Kaylin’s Marks and the joining of their hands. She froze.
“Did you bring him with us?” she asked Mandoran.
“No.”
“But... our hands...”
“Can you still feel his hand?”
Kaylin nodded.
“I didn’t calculate for that. You could see Terrano when he was out of phase, but you couldn’t actually touch him; I moved you to where he was standing—and the proof of that was that you finally could. Touch him, I mean.” Mandoran left a hand on Kaylin’s shoulder, but moved position so he could look at Nightshade—and Kaylin’s hand. They were clearly joined; Nightshade hadn’t become ghostly and untouchable with the shift in plane.
“I don’t understand. He shouldn’t be here.”
“But... he is.”
“Can you heal him here, the way you could with Terrano?”
She’d been trying. She couldn’t reach him any better than she had any other time she’d tried. The location had changed, but the problem remained. “His hand feels warmer here than it did when I was in his room.”
“But you can’t heal him.”
She shook her head. She didn’t want to let go of Nightshade’s hand. She lifted her free hand to her cheek. It was warm. Hopefully it wasn’t bleeding. “Can you see the Erenne mark?”
“Not with your hand over your cheek.”
She lowered her hand.
If she felt no pain from the mark, her hope that it hadn’t started to bleed was dashed. Red liquid smeared her palm.
Mandoran’s eyes were an odd color—possibly because of the light her own Marks cast, possibly as a result of standing in a place no one born to their world was meant to stand. “There’s good news and bad news,” he said, his voice as soft as Kaylin’s when she spoke.
“Bad news first. I’d like to finish with a bit of good news.”