“Who are—?” The Cruithne swung a meaty fist around and struck the side of Lukias’s face, dropping him with the sound of a crunch. The other Rike tried to summon a shout of warning, but Baylen was fast and gripped his tunic at the throat and hammered into his stomach so hard, the man could only gurgle in pain and collapse.
“Baylen?” Hettie sighed with relief, emerging from the shadows and the stone and revealing her true self to him.
The Cruithne looked at her, not registering surprise or delight. “There you are.” He brushed his heavy hands together, his jowls quivering as a smile finally crept over his mouth. “I’ve been lurking up here for a while watching for Paedrin. Been taking advantage of the confusion to thin the herd.”
“I thought you were dead,” Hettie exclaimed. “Paedrin’s here too?”
The Cruithne put his hands on his hips. “A story I’ll tell you over a mug of ale. Paedrin said he was coming but it’s been a little while. With all the mist, we won’t be easy to find.”
“He’ll find us,” Hettie said. “Do you know a way off this rock?”
“Follow me. There’s no one leading them right now. I know the way back down. But I also know where they are all coming from. I don’t think we came all this way to leave early.”
Hettie unsheathed a dagger and nodded.
The smoke from the fires would have normally stung Phae’s eyes, but it did not. She thought about taming the flames with her fireblood, but she decided not to. The woods needed a chance to heal and be reborn. Fire would be the womb. She watched Annon disappear into the shroud of smoke as he bent his way toward the ruins of Canton Vaud.
Phae took Shion’s hands and marched him back to the tree. There were no longer any Weir, no longer any threats. Rumbles of thunder sounded overhead and she felt a few drops of rain on her wrists and hands. She climbed back up the nest of roots, pulling Shion after her until they came to the portal entrance.
“How long have you been gone?” he asked her, his voice quiet and thoughtful. “To us, it seemed but a moment. You are changed.” He reached out hesitantly, brushing aside some of her hair. A shiver went down her back at his touch.
“A lifetime. I’ve learned so much. I know your name. I know who you are.” She squeezed his hands, feeling her throat thicken. She reached to her belt where she had woven the chain of his talisman and quickly unfastened it. It was battered and dull, but she could feel the talisman’s power. He stared at it, his face crinkling with confusion.
“This is yours,” she told him. She licked her lips. Reaching out, she put the talisman around his neck. He looked confused, worried, anxious.
“I’m frightened,” he whispered hoarsely.
She shook her head and cupped his cheek. “There is no reason to fear. I know the truth. I know all of it.” With her other hand, she stroked the ragged bark. “Your memories are all here. I’ve already seen them. Even the recent ones. I’ve watched your life.” She tried to breathe, found it difficult even looking into his eyes. She blushed, feeling the weight of the moment. “Let me help you remember.”
A quivering sigh escaped his chest. He nodded mutely, worriedly. With her full Dryad senses, she could tell that they were truly alone. She could sense where Annon walked as if she saw him in her mind. She saw Kiranrao, staggering and falling, running madly through the woods to escape, but there was no escape for him. The defenses of the forest would wall him inside and he did not know the secret of the Dryads any longer. The roots of the oaks ran for leagues and she was tied into them all, connected to the information they shared with her.
Phae leaned forward and whispered to him. “You guarded my tree, so you have earned a boon. I give you my Dryad name. I give it to you freely because I trust the man that you were, even the man you’ve become. My name is Arsinowe.”
As she breathed out the name, she felt magic in the word, magic that began forging a bond to him. She felt it well up inside her, a powerful surge that made her lips begin to tingle and power burn on her tongue. It was a pleasant feeling, a surging tidal feeling. Phae lifted his chin and brought her mouth to his, bestowing a Dryad’s kiss.
There was a rush of power and emotion. She felt herself become a conduit for memories as they poured from the tree, through her, and into him. His mind was unlocked, the hidden recesses filled to overflowing. She pressed the kiss harder, connecting to him, feeling his breath begin to quicken, and then he gasped. Not only did his memories return, but her memories joined with his, her experiences with the Seneschal, her following of his life’s story.
The rush was intense, deeply personal, and they both floated in the magic, clinging to each other as it sped them fast, weaving through sharp turns and rugged eddies. He tasted wonderful, his scent a mixture of sweat and earth, and full of the forest and trees.
It was finished.