Kyra reached out to adjust the blanket around Pashla. Her fingers brushed against Pashla’s cheek. The flesh was cold, as icy as the snow around them, and Kyra snatched her hand back with a gasp. The difference between that frozen shell and Pashla’s warm, gentle touch was so stark that it felt like a cruel joke.
And that was when it sank in. This body was all that was left of the woman who had saved Kyra’s life and nursed her back from near death. The woman who had fought for her, taught her the secrets of her Makvani blood, and forgiven Kyra when she returned to the humans. Kyra felt a burning beneath her eyelids. She fought it for a while, but when Tristam came and placed an arm around her shoulders, Kyra buried her face in his chest and let the tears come. He held her wordlessly through the sobs, occasionally rubbing her back, until finally she wiped her eyes and pulled away.
“Pashla and I,” said Tristam, “we had our differences. But it was not my wish to see her fall.”
“Did you speak to her before she died?” Kyra asked.
Tristam’s nod was so slight that she almost didn’t see it. “She asked me to take her body back to the clan.”
Kyra stared down at Pashla’s face, stern and beautiful, mysterious even in death. What are you thinking, Pashla? “She thought it an honor to die in battle for a cause she believed in. I hope she found this fight worthwhile.”
“I think she did,” said Tristam. “I know she did.”
Kyra closed her eyes and breathed a silent thank-you and good-bye. Then she once again covered Pashla with the blanket and let her sleep.
The clan burned Pashla’s body, with each member contributing a branch for the fire. In addition to Pashla, they mourned the deaths of two others who had been in Kyra’s band of twelve. Those two had perished in the enemy camp, and there was no way to recover their remains.
Over the next few days, Tristam came often with news from Forge. The morning after Willem’s capture, messengers had been dispatched to the Edlan troops with orders from the captive Willem to call off the siege. While some of Edlan’s commanders might have been tempted to continue their attack even without their original ally, Willem had enough relatives in Edlan, including the Duke himself, who did not wish to see him harmed. The Edlan troops began their long march back a few days later. Malikel dispatched scouts to make sure they had gone, and after a few days, it was declared that the Edlan invaders had returned to their own city. Willem himself would be tried in front of the Council for treason.
“The Council voted to keep Malikel in his position as Head Councilman,” said Tristam. “In part, he has Willem to thank for it. When your most vocal enemy turns out to be a traitor to the city, it tends to boost your credibility.” Tristam paused. “Malikel requests that you return to Forge to speak with him, and he promises you safe passage into the Palace, should you take his request.”
The promise of safe passage was important because Kyra was in no condition for any daring escapes at the moment. Her leg had healed to the point where she could walk with a crutch. It was a relief to be able to get around at all, but rooftop running was going to be out of her repertoire for a while.
Havel told her he wasn’t sure what trajectory her recovery would take. “Your bones were crushed severely, and you’re of mixed blood,” he said. “The pain will lessen with time, but I don’t know how far the healing will go. It may never return to the way it was before. You have to be prepared for that.”