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“You never do.” The mage takes the spoon from his hand as she passes him.

Esra gives a long-suffering sigh. “Help me stand then, Ry, before you cast me out.”

Ryon takes his hands and helps him to stand, and as soon as he is beyond the stoop, Baltisse closes the door behind him.

“Baltisse?” Ryon starts, but the mage still won’t face him. She remains with her hand on the doorknob, reluctance showing in every part of her frame. It scares Ryon. In the time he has known the mage, he has never before seen her shy away from him, or anyone else for that matter.

“What were the two of you doing out there, in the clearing?” It’s surely an easier question than the one he wants to ask, and it works. Baltisse turns and leans against the door, her hands behind her.

Ryon has never seen her so… human.

“She wants to learn to control the magic. She thinks it will help when it comes time to return to the Ledge.”

Ryon had presumed as much. “And can she?” Ryon presses. “Can it be controlled?”

Baltisse contemplates Ryon, rather than answers, but he waits. He won’t be diverted. Eventually, Baltisse mutters, “It is not a simple answer,” and then says no more.

Ryon closes his eyes. He supresses his frustration. “You will answer it anyway.”

“I will not becommandedby–”

“Enough!” Ryon yells, drowning the mage’s voice. He can feel the might of her power permeating the room. He knows how readily she could have him flat on the floor and begging for her pardon and it still does not stop him. “You’ve kept your secrets from her. You’ve forced me to keep them, too. You’ve compromised me in that regard, and I did it out of loyalty. But you will not begin keeping secrets fromme, Baltisse.”

“And who’s to say you have a right to know what I do?”

“If it concerns Dawsyn, then I should know.”

“Because you love her?”

“Love is atraceof what I feel,” he snarls.

Both pause in the echo of his voice. After several moments, when the beating of the half-Glacian’s heart has slowed, the mage’s eyes finally rise, and they are benevolent. “I warned you. I told you to let her go.”

She had. In Salem’s inn, when it still stood, and Dawsyn had yet to learn who she was. It feels like a lifetime ago. “I no longer believe I was meant to.”

Baltisse grimaces. “Unfortunately, nor do I.”

“So, tell me,” Ryon says. “So that I might have some warning if… I’m to lose her.”

The mage doesn’t balk at his words. She doesn’t rush to correct him, and he is flooded with fear.

The mage nods again in a way that reminds Ryon of how truly old and weary she is. “I’ll tell it to her directly,” she says. “It would be unfair to do otherwise.”

“All of it?” Ryon frowns.

Baltisse moves to the basin once more and declines to answer. “Fetch her,” she says tiredly, her head bowed. “She should be the one to decide if you can hear it all, too.”

CHAPTERFORTY-THREE

Dawsyn enters the cabin wearily. Her bones feel weighted and unamenable, but Ryon ushers her intently, the determination clear in his expression.

Baltisse waits by the tiny bench top, her hip pressed to its side, her sights set on something out the window. She does not turn when Dawsyn slumps into one of her chairs.

“What is it?” Dawsyn asks, eyes flitting between the two of them. She feels the obvious strain in the room. The mage and Ryon fighting some silent battle.

Dawsyn sighs. “Perhaps this is a conversation for tomorrow, if it is so difficult to say,” she suggests. Truly, her body wishes for nothing more than respite.

“No,” Ryon says immediately. “We should speak now.”