Chapter Epilogue

It takes several days to recover. According to the Apostate--Porr, as I’ve come to know him--Cimari ripped the shadow from my mind. Porr tells me that what she did was more or less what he was going to do. Of course, he would have done it more gently. Cimari almost ripped my mind away along with the shadow. Knowing her, I’m sure that was her objective.

She didn’t succeed in ripping my mind apart, but she did break two of my fingers and tear countless gashes in the skin of my back and shoulders. My ribs escaped this time, thank God, but I’m covered in bruises and weak as a kitten.

While I’m confined to my bed, Luca and Sadra tell me everything that happened--as far as they know what happened. Luca recognized the symbols on Ismeni’s arms as instructions for some kind of casting to summon Cimari, but he had never heard of anything like what the symbols described. Whatever it was, it killed Ismeni.

Cimari actually was killed by the mountain cat--I didn’t dream it. Luca tells me the cat had been following us, studying us, ever since we first encountered her. The cat didn’t stop my fight with Cimari because I seemed to be holding my own, but stepped in when Cimari killed Pretty Girl, who, after all, was still only a baby. It made the cat angry.

I feel nothing but relief at Cimari’s death, but Ismeni’s makes my very bones hurt. I know it’s selfish and petty, but much of the pain comes from knowing that she’ll never understand that she was wrong about me. That she could just refuse to believe what’s true because the truth is uncomfortable, or inconvenient, or made her feel bad--it’s so unfair. Ismeni died thinking that I’m a thief and a liar, and I’ll never get the chance to convince her otherwise.

But I’ll convince others. Now that I’ve made the choice to live in this world, I know I’ll do whatever I can to make it livable for the others like me who weren’t lucky enough to escape. I couldn’t help Miocostin when he asked it of me, and he died. I can’t help that, but I can make sure he didn’t die for nothing.

When I’m allowed out of bed, Porr takes me to a little stand of cypress trees. He tells me that I’m lucky to be alive after what happened, that too many of those who come to him for help end up buried beneath these trees. Even when he’s the one removing the Pall, even when he’s being careful, sometimes people die.

“When I was--when it happened,” I say hesitantly. “I was told I had to choose. If I hadn’t made the choice...would I have died?”

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “You are not the first to report being asked to choose. I do wonder sometimes if those who died simply chose to return to their birth world. We have no way of knowing, of course, as none have come back.”

I don’t ask him if that means I died on the other side because I chose to stay here. I know what he’ll say: we have no way of knowing. I don’t think I want to know.

“I need your help,” Porr says.

“With what?” I ask, surprised. I was expecting to have to ask to be part of the resistance movement. What could Porr need from me, specifically?

“I need you to speak to Lucoran,” Porr tells me. “I have known for years how I might strike a grievous blow to the House of Light and Shadow--but only one. By myself, I would fail. I would strike, and the House of Light and Shadow would be weakened. But it would recover, and nothing would change.”

“So why now?” I ask, but I think I already know. I don’t like it. “What do you want with Luca?”

“I have been waiting for an opportunity like this for more than thirty years,” Porr says. “The Prince has died without an heir, and who should find his way to my hearth but the Prince’s own brother? I believe Lucoran will do what I ask, if only to avenge Miocostin, but I would have you speak with him, reassure him that he is right to aid me in this. He can help to build a new world, free of the House’s taint.”

“And what is it, exactly, that you want him to do?” I ask. I need to hear him say the words.

“I want him to rule,” Porr says. “I want Lucoran to take the throne.”

My head spinning, I make my way along the island cliffs, watching turquoise waves crash against the rocks below. I look away and force myself to focus. Luca on the throne...would he even want that? Probably not, but Porr was right--Luca would do it if it meant avenging his brother and finishing what Miocostin started.

But there’s another “if” to consider, one that makes my blood run cold. Luca would become Prince...

he could take the throne. We might fail. Any attempt to oust the House of Light and Shadow at this point would mean all-out war; even I know that. And war means a lot of deaths. One of those deaths could be Luca’s...or mine.

Then again, what happens if we win? Do I want to be a princess, or consort, or whatever? Would it even be an option? Princes only marry peasant girls in fairy tales. Luca might need to make a political marriage if he becomes the Prince. And where would that leave me?

I can’t think like that, I tell myself sternly. This isn’t about me. And it’s not my decision to make, either. I have to find Luca. I head for the little cove where Porr keeps his boat, hoping that Luca and Bard are back from the mysterious “errand” they insisted they had to take care of this morning.

There’s no sign of them in the cove, so I settle down to wait. After a time, Sadra joins me. We sit in companionable silence, absorbed in our own thoughts. I wonder what she’ll do if Luca agrees to rebel against the House. For the first time, it occurs to me that Sadra and I might not always walk the same path. The thought makes me cold. Before I can stop to think that maybe Luca should be the first person to hear about Porr’s plan, I tell Sadra everything.

“If he agrees,” I say, staring at sand, “what will you do? I mean…”

“Well?” Sadra prompts. “What do you mean?”

“Will you stay with us?” I keep my eyes on the ground, afraid of what I might see in her face. “You’ve done more for me than I ever had a right to expect. I would understand if you wanted to go home.”

“It’s like you said,” Sadra says. “It’s not about you. Not anymore. I can’t just go back to the City and pretend none of this happened. None of us can--we can’t go back to our old lives, knowing what we know. But even so, I wouldn’t leave you. You’re stuck with me a while longer.”

Impulsively, I throw my arms around her, knocking her to the ground.

“I love you, you know that?” I mumble into her shoulder.

“As well you should,” she laughs. “I love you, too. So does Luca--I know you must be worried about Luca being crowned Prince and leaving you behind, and I’m telling you, you don’t have to.”

I let myself be reassured by her words and settle down once more to wait for Luca and Bard. When they finally return, I’m not sure at first that it’s them. I see the boat come around the point accompanied by two bobbing dots that I can’t identify. It’s not until they pull themselves out of the water, looking good and pleased with themselves, that I recognize Luca and the monstrous cat who saved my life on the mainland.

I know from Porr that the mainland is over five miles away, and Luca apparently swam the whole way, judging by his heaving belly and the smugly gleeful look in his eyes. I shake my head wonderingly, admiring the way his muscles move under the smooth skin of his back as he waves to Kirit. The little fox climbs onto Bard’s shoulder and yaps so furiously that he almost tumbles into the water.

The big cat roars back at Kirit and shakes out her coat, spraying Luca with seawater. At my laugh, Luca turns to me, his whole face lighting up with a blinding smile that erases all trace of doubt from my mind. He could be the Prince. Or a soldier, or a horse breeder. Whatever he decides, whatever happens, we’ll face it together.