Cursors's Fury

“Rari,” Septimus said. “Wait.”

Araris paused, frowning back at the Princeps.

“I need you to do something.”

Araris smiled. “I’ll see to it. We’re sending the noncombatants out already. “

“No,” Septimus said. He put a hand on Araris’s shoulder. “I need you to take her out of here yourself.”

Araris stiffened. “What?”

“I want you to take Isana and her sister out.”

“My place is beside you.”

Septimus hesitated for a moment, and glanced to the east with haunted eyes. Then he said, “No. Not tonight it isn’t.”

Araris frowned. “Your Highness? Are you all right?”

Septimus shook himself like a dog shedding water, and the uncertainty vanished from his expression. “Yes. But I think I finally understand what’s been happening since Seven Hills.”

“What do you mean?” Araris asked.

Septimus shook his head and lifted his hand. “There’s no time. I want you to take them to safety.”

“Your Highness, I can assign a mounted unit to escort them out.”

“No. It’s got to be you.”

“Crows, Septimus,” Araris said. “Why?”

Septimus met his eyes directly, and said quietly, “Because I know you’ll take care of her.”

Araris’s eyes widened, and his face went pale. He shook his head. “Sep, no. No, it isn’t like that. I would never want that. Not for my lord. Not for my friend.”

The Princeps face suddenly lit in a smile, and he threw back his head in a belly laugh. “Crows. I know that, Rari, you fool. I know you wouldn’t.”

Araris ducked his head, frowning. “Still. I shouldn’t. It isn’t right.”

Septimus thumped a fist down on Araris’s shoulder. “Bah, man. I can’t very well throw stones at anyone who falls in love with her. I did, after all.” He glanced in the direction of the tent he shared with Isana. “She’s something special.”

“She is,” Araris agreed quietly.

Septimus’s face sobered. “It’s got to be you.”

“All right,” Araris said.

“If something happens to me-”

“It won’t,” Araris said firmly.

“We can’t know that,” Septimus said. “No one ever can. It’s got to be you. If something happens to me, I want her to be taken care of.” He glanced back at Araris. “I can’t stand the thought of her and the child being alone. Promise me, Araris.”

Araris shook his head. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Septimus agreed. “I hope so. But promise me.”

Araris frowned at the Princeps for a moment. Then he jerked his chin in a quick nod. “I’ll watch over her.”

Septimus clapped his arm gently, his tone warm. “Thank you.”

The dream froze, locked into that image.

Fade, beside Isana, stared at the image of Septimus. “I failed him,” he said. Tears rolled down his cheeks, over the burn scars. “I should have stood with him. But when push came to shove… all I wanted was to get you away from the battle. To make sure you were safe.” He bowed his head. “I let my heart guide my head. I let it blind me to my duties. Blind me to possible dangers. Blind me to your sister’s injuries. Blind me to what might happen to the baby.”

He looked up at her, his eyes miserable. “I loved you, Isana. The wife of my best friend, my sword brother. I loved you. And I am ashamed.”

Isana stared at Septimus’s image for a long moment, though dream-tears blurred her dream-vision. “Fade…”

“I can’t make amends for my mistakes,” Fade said. “The blood won’t ever be washed from my hands. Let me go. There’s nothing left for me here.”

Isana turned to face Fade and reached out to cup his face between her pale, slender hands. She could feel his anguished guilt, feel the pain, the self-recrimination, the bottomless well of regret.

“What happened,” she said quietly, “was not of your making. It was horrible. I hate that it happened. But you didn’t cause it to be so.”

“Isana… “ Fade whispered.

“You’re only human,” Isana said over him. “We make mistakes.”

“But mine…” Araris shook his head. “I had a hand in this war, as well. Had Septimus lived, he would have been the greatest First Lord Alera has ever known. He’d have a strongly gifted heir. A gracious, compassionate wife at his side. And none of this would be happening.”

“Perhaps,” Isana said gently. “Perhaps not. But you can’t hold the actions of thousands and thousands of other people against yourself. You’ve got to let it go.”

“I can’t.”

“You can,” Isana said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Tavi,” Fade said.

“That isn’t your fault either, Fade.” Isana drew a breath. “It’s mine.”

Fade blinked at her for a moment. “What?”