Ella’s hands fell down to her lap, and she closed her eyes.
For a long time she fought to calm her breathing as she thought about the message.
Hearing a knock on the door, she opened her eyes and called out. “Come in.”
Miro entered, and Ella immediately came to her feet. His face was pale and filled with anguish.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Rogan,” Miro said. “I think you should come now.”
Putting the note aside, Ella followed her brother along the marble-floored corridors of the palace to an antechamber.
Dread sank into Ella’s stomach as she looked at the door to the next room, where the healers had been tending Rogan. Sunlight shone through the open window, but the mood was somber.
Amelia spoke in low tones to a middle-aged woman, evidently a healer, with a satchel over her shoulder and blood on her smock. Bartolo stared out the window with Shani by his side, her arm clutched protectively around her husband. Ilathor and Jehral stood together in a corner, their heads close together. Lady Alise made way for Miro and Ella to enter.
All eyes turned to the two newcomers as they approached.
Ella felt sudden fear clutch at her chest as she saw their expressions.
“What’s . . . what’s happening?”
“He wants to speak with you,” Miro said, his eyes indicating the closed door. “You need to go in.”
Ella met Amelia’s red eyes and fought to control her ragged emotions. Ella drew in a slow, steady breath, exhaling before breathing in again.
“Go,” Miro said.
Ella felt their eyes on her as she crossed the room. The dozen paces were suddenly an interminable march, each footstep an effort. She reached forward to touch the handle and pushed the door open, eyes on the floor as she entered the room and closed the door behind her.
Ella smelled the sweet stench of sickness.
She lifted her eyes.
The room was dark and the curtains were closed; only a nightlamp activated at the lowest setting giving Ella enough light to see by.
Tables lined the wall, and Ella fought an involuntary gasp as she saw bloody bandages and flasks of brown liquid. The sole other piece of furniture was a bed.
Rogan Jarvish lay on the bed.
He looked old, older than Ella had ever thought he could appear. The pallor of his skin matched his gray hair, and he appeared to be having difficulty breathing.
Ella couldn’t fight it anymore. She sobbed and fell to her knees beside the bed.
“Ella,” Rogan whispered. “You’ve changed.”
“I’m still the same,” Ella said through her tears.
“I know,” he said. “I’ve been watching you since you were small. Even though you never knew it, I’ve watched you grow. Your mother and I were friends. We spoke about you together. She loved you with a burning passion. She wanted you to have a normal, happy life, even if it meant she couldn’t be with you. Through her, I came to know you. I came to love you.”
Ella felt tears spill out of her eyes, streaming down the sides of her cheeks. She breathed in gasps between sobs and couldn’t control herself no matter how hard she tried.
“Take my hand,” Rogan said.
Ella looked over his body for the first time. The blankets came up to his waist, but Rogan’s chest was black with oxidized blood, evil darkness spreading through the cloth wrappings around his torso.
Ella reached forward and took Rogan’s hand. His palm and fingers were cold, though the room was warm.
“Don’t cry,” Rogan said.
Ella wiped at her cheeks with her free hand. “Is it bad?”
“I’ve taken worse.” Rogan’s voice was hoarse. “But that was as a younger man. We all grow, and we all age.”
Ella knew Rogan as an indomitable force. Her breathing ran ragged as Rogan closed his eyes for a time, and then he opened them again.
“Do you believe that with age comes wisdom?” Rogan asked.
“Sometimes,” Ella said.
Rogan tried to laugh but fell into a coughing fit. Ella wondered if she should fetch help and started to rise, but Rogan’s surprisingly firm grip pulled her back down.
“That’s you, lass. Always one to tell the truth. You’re right; I wasn’t wise to fight, not with Amelia and Tapel to take care of. But here I am.”
“If you didn’t fight, Miro could be dead on the battlefield,” Ella said. “Rogan . . . thank you. I’m so sorry.”
“Enough of that.” Rogan sighed. “Listen, lass. I have something important to say. Will you heed me?”
“I . . . I will,” Ella said.
Ella’s vision closed in as sadness overwhelmed her. She realized Rogan was saying good-bye.