by Tanya Huff
“Uh, yes.” Doan’s gaze dropped to his feet, for he remembered those days very well; back when he’d guarded the Grove and the hope it had contained. “Best that you don’t.”
“Have you come then to renew our old acquaintance?” Tayer asked, brows raised.
“No.” He took a deep breath. Sokoji had offered to bring the news to Tayer but Doan, having been in on the beginning, felt he should see it through to the end. “I’ve come about your daughter.”
“Tell me.” The Queen of Ardhan squared her shoulders and waited for the blow. “Has she been killed?”
“No!” In his rush to wipe the pain from Tayer’s face, Doan snapped out the word so hard she winced. “No,” he repeated, more gently, “she isn’t dead.” He saw again the glory that Crystal had become wrapped in the arms of Lord Death and added, “Exactly.”
“Exactly?” Tayer repeated, looking both relieved and confused.
Doan snorted. “It’s a long story.”
“Well . . .” Tayer crossed the Grove and sat down on a protruding root. Both her council and her children would have recognized her tone of voice. “Why don’t you start at the beginning.”
So he did.
When he finished, Tayer sat quietly for a long time.
“Is she happy?” she asked at last.
“Yes. I believe so.”
Tayer felt the tug of a baby’s lips upon her breast. Smelled the soft scent of sunlight on silver hair as a child snuggled on her lap in the garden. Saw a girl stand to face an ancient evil, green eyes blazing defiance. Heard the voice of a young woman who shared her heart.
Her lower lip trembled. “I shall miss her.”
Doan nodded and reached out to wipe a tear away.
“And I,” he said softly. “And I.”
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