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The stinging filled my eyes again. Blast the rain.

But when I looked up, it wasn’t raining any longer. The sky was clearing. The stars were out.

“You’ve been having the dreams again.” It was a statement, not a question. “They frighten you,” Odessa went on. “Make you feel even more alone. You worry about yourself. About what you’ll turn out to be. What will become of you.”

There was more. But what she’d guessed was enough. More than enough.

Slowly, I nodded.

“There is darkness in all of our souls. But there is also light. Just because the darkness threatens doesn’t mean the light won’t win out in the end.” She raised her hand and very carefully touched my cheek. This time, I didn’t pull away. “You’ve known the dark more than most children have. No one can imagine or say what you’ve experienced. You are truly unique. Truly extraordinary. And, this I swear to you, truly loved.”

A sob wrenched through my chest.

And then Odessa was pulling me towards her, wrapping me in her arms, and telling me I was loved more than I knew over and over and over.

CHAPTER 23 - MORGAN

A healer had been called. There was one among the refugees.

Lancelet had lifted Guinevere and carried her into the healer’s tent.

The healer’s name was Amara. A petite woman with golden skin and long black hair, she had declared Guinevere was suffering from nervous exhaustion. Before anyone could stop her, she’d poured a sleeping draught down Guinevere’s throat, announcing the best thing for her was total rest.

I tried to mask my look of panic from Lancelet but could not hide it fully from Draven.

Outside the tent, we all conferred.

“We’ll stay however long it takes for Guinevere to get back on her feet,” Draven assured Lancelet.

Lancelet’s eyes were troubled. “How could she have been hiding this from me?” She glanced at me and then quickly looked away, but I knew what she was thinking.

“It’s not your fault. If you’re blaming yourself, stop. She could have told you or any of us if she was growing weak.” I hesitated then went on. “If anyone should feel guilty right now, it’s me. She must have drained herself shielding me. Staying awake too long.”

We had been riding hard, but not to the point of this kind of fatigue—or so I had thought. We camped each night at dusk and rose a little after dawn. We spent at least eight hours on the road, but paused for a midday meal. And usually Guinevere would sleep for an hour or two at that time.

At night, she made me sleep for at least six uninterrupted, blissful hours after taking five or six for herself.

But perhaps she had not been sleeping. Or had not been able to.

I hesitated, then asked, “Has she been sleeping? Truly sleeping? Do you think you could tell?”

Lancelet shook her head, her eyes anxious. “I’m not sure. I thought she was. But perhaps she was pretending. Why would she do that?”

“Or perhaps she was sleeping,” Draven said. “But perhaps shielding Morgan has been draining Guinevere much more than we realized.”

“Clearly it has been,” Gawain agreed. “We must rest here however long she needs.”

I nodded. But my mind was already on the night ahead. How long would Guinevere be out because of the draught? A night? A night and a day? Longer?

I thought I could last the night, but suddenly found myself wishing I had availed myself of the chance to sleep when I had it the night before instead of lying there worrying about the road ahead.

But perhaps I could take those same sleep-stealing anxieties and turn them to my advantage, I thought grimly. If they could leave me sleepless one night, they could surely help to do so the next.

We set up our tents at the edge of the refugee camp, on the outskirts of a field that led into the nearby forest.

“At the very least, maybe we can help these people while we’re here,” Draven said quietly to Gawain and Hawl and me as we unpacked. “Provide some extra protection.”

Hawl nodded. “There must be many bandits roaming these lands. These people are easy pickings.”