Elizabeth Kerner: Redeeming the Lost

Goddess save us all, Salera really didn't know about human delicacy, for she greeted him with, "My father, why have you not spoken to Mistress Aral of what is in your heart?" Will spluttered. She ignored him and went on, "I know the depth of your feelings for her, but how can you expect to win her if you say nothing?" She turned back to me, leaving Will blushing furiously, and said in a conspiratorial tone, "It appears to be a male trait. My own suitor has waited a full year before speaking."

"A suitor?" said Will, amazed. "But—you've only been awake such a short time.. " His voice faded as he realised the obvious.

"I was awake before, my father, and I remember Tchaeros well. Now that we have speech, he is more courtly"—and she hissed a little with amusement—"but it has taken him a very long time to ask me to join with him."

"Do you love him?" asked Will, frowning like any father at being informed so of a daughter's lover.

"1 do, my father," said Salera, her wings fluttering. I could only guess that it was with pleasure. "I agreed to join with him this morning as the sun brightened. We will celebrate our—betrothal, is it called?—this very night, and I would that you might be there." She turned back to me. "I would see you there as well, Mistress Aral, if your heart allows."

She brushed past Will as she left, and I heard her whisper, "Speak your heart, Father. She is wise. She will hear."

"Aral, I—drat that child, she doesn't understand—"

I put my hand on his arm. He froze.

"I think she understands rather better than you or I," I said quietly. I was suddenly shy, but I managed to mutter, "Will, please—I—please, just speak truth to me. Is Salera right?"

He took my hand from his arm. "Aral, I'm a good few years older than you," he began.

"Not that much," I said, smiling. "Look at Varien and Lanen!"

He grinned back. "Right enough, I suppose. I—I've never said word these last two years, Aral, because I know fine how you feel about Vilkas."

I nodded. "I know how I feel about him too. Go on." I felt one corner of my mouth go up. "You haven't actually said anything yet."

I practically felt him crack. He stepped closer to me as if he would have swept me into his arms that very moment; I could see him tremble with the effort of not doing so, and I was suddenly very aware of him as a man rather than as a friend.

And there he stood, this tall, handsome man, not daring to touch me, but telling me all his heart, speaking such words of love to me as I had only ever dreamed of.

I had dreamed of hearing them from Vilkas, of course, though my rational mind had realised that would never happen. No, he was not Vilkas, tormented, wildly powerful, terrified of life and of love. He was Will. Strong, calm, reliable, capable Will, who had loved me for two solid years now and said nothing until this moment because he knew I cared for another.

I never meant to do it, but in moments of high emotion I seem to call my corona to me without thinking. I swear, I could see his love, flowing between us strong as a river from a high mountain, and still he did not touch me.

"I knew the time would come when you'd bring Vilkas to the point," he said, finally, when all else was said. "I feared it might happen when you were far from me, and I couldn't bear that. I let myself be carried by those great beasts because I would not abandon you when you needed me." He stopped and let himself smile. "Though I won't pretend it was for your sake alone. I damn well intended to be there to catch you."

"And so you did," I replied. I would never forget his arms holding me up when Vilkas cast me from him. Vil and I had come to a working truce, but in that awful moment it was Will who had held me close and supported me until I could stand again.

He finally let himself go so far as to take my right hand in both of his. "By my word, Aral, I will not die if you do not, or if you cannot love me." His eyes were alight, he seemed more alive than I had ever seen him. "But I tell you true, I would far rather live my days with you than without you."

No matter what sentiment might say, I owed him the truth. I spoke quietly, for the others were not speaking much just at that moment and I did not wish to be overheard.

"Will, I won't pretend I feel more than I do," I said. "You know I care for you, you've been a wonderful friend to me ever since I met you. But—" I glanced at Vilkas, smiling now and chatting with the others. His hold on my heart was less than it had been, but not by much. "You know also that my heart has long been his. I found out for certain that he doesn't want it, but—it will all take time."

I paused. I had been going to tell him that he should not hope, but as I was about to form the words, I found to my surprise that there might indeed be room in my heart for another. He stood, strong and true, his heart open and undefended, for me to wound or to heal. A curious thought occurred to me.

"Come with me out into the corridor, Will, I have something particular to tell you," I said, and went before him out of the range of other eyes.

The corridor was deserted. He closed the door behind us.

"Kiss me," I said.

For all his ardour, he was taken aback. "What?"

"Kiss me like you mean it," I said, challenging him.

Gracious Lady. I got more than I had bargained for.

When we came up for air, he reeled as one drunk. I suspect I did too.

"Come with me, Will," I said quietly. "Come with me to Berlin and meet my family. I do not promise anything, and I do not yet have a whole heart to offer you. I would not offer you less."

"I have waited two years, Aral," he said, his voice lovely and deep. "I can wait a little longer." He grinned wildly. "I've always thought I should see the rest of the South Kingdom," he said, smiling and drawing me out into the broad spring day. "Tell me about Benin."

If that's how you always kiss, my lad, you may not have all that long to wait, I thought, and casually took his hand as we walked out into the sunlight.

The next morning, all farewells said, the company of friends scattered to the Winds for that time.

I was not yet accustomed to my new strength and had some concerns about carrying Lanen, Maran, and Mage Vilkas all the way to Beskin, but I barely noticed them once I was airborne. I remember thinking that I had had no idea that Shikrar was so as-toundingly powerful. I flew high, smiling as I heard his voice in my memory. High air is the best—least work, longest flight. His words were a part of me, they had been for many a hundred winter and would stay with me as long as I drew breath. The thought gave me comfort. Sleep easy on the Winds, my soulfriend Shikrar. Your words yet ring in my heart.

I was not prepared, however, for the sheer joy of flight. I had flown a few times near Castle Gundar, mostly short hops, and the great Celebration of the Three Branches—but that was a dance, not flight for the sake of it. This—this was freedom, this was life and all, and it filled me with unalloyed delight. I did not dare to bespeak Lanen, lest she feel my joy and gain a terrible understanding of what I had missed.

I felt she had enough terrible understanding to be getting on with.

In the meanwhile, I took intense pleasure from the feel of the wind bearing me up, the strengthening sun of spring on my face, the sheer power of these immense wings, and a new land below me full of promise and the unknown. I sang my joy to the Winds, and heard Lanen's mindvoice echoing the song.

We had spoken together several times in the kindly darkness of evening, up on Sblkrar's HiD (it is called that to this day). There was a truce just then between my lady wife and me. We lived as we had said we would, one breath at a time, but so often still those breaths were bought with heart's pain.