<Let me talk to her.>

The Guardian had never asked him before, he’d just taken over if he could. Jes hesitated, remembering that first, possessive roar. But on the rare occasions when he was calm, the Guardian was better-spoken than Jes. Perhaps he could change her mind.

“We can’t force her,” he said. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said it aloud because Hennea didn’t look happy when she turned around to stare at him, but the Guardian wasn’t as good at hearing Jes as he was at hearing the Guardian. Jes didn’t want the Guardian to make matters worse.

<Please. She must come with us.>

With a sigh, Jes let the Guardian overwhelm him.

“You can’t force me,” said Hennea.

“No,” he agreed, stepping away because he thought he might be frightening her—though her face was composed. He didn’t want to frighten her. “What do you intend to do now that your debt to my mother is remitted and the Path is rendered harmless?”

“I will seek out the Shadowed,” she said. “It may be that the man you chased through the tunnels of the Emperor’s castle was just another solsenti wizard. But if not, it would be disastrous to allow him to run free.”

The Guardian lowered his eyelids, trying to look unthreatening. It wasn’t something he had a lot of practice at.

“My father told Benroln that the Shadowed is going to seek vengeance against us for the death of the Secret Path,” he said. “If you want to find him, you are more likely to find him in our company.”

“Or in Benroln’s as he follows his call,” she said.

But her voice wasn’t as firm as it had been.

“There was no clue to the Shadowed’s identity in the papers left by the Path,” said the Guardian. “None of the servants knew anything, nor did any of the men the Emperor could have questioned. Only the wizards might have known who he was, and they were all killed the night the Path fell. There might still be records in the temples, but the Emperor could do nothing against either of the temples of the Five Gods in Taela because there was nothing that connected them to the Path. In Redern, though, there is a temple ready to be searched.”

“We searched it already,” Hennea said.

“Did you? I thought two tired Ravens went through and did their best to find all the Ordered gemstones and anything that might bring harm to villagers who might go exploring. Did you read all of Volis’s correspondence? Did you search for journals? Were you looking for a new Shadowed One?” He knew the answers to those questions—she did, too, because she didn’t say anything.

“Then there are the Path’s gemstones, also,” he murmured, trying hard to keep his triumph from showing. His relief. She was his to guard, as his family was his to guard. He could not have borne for them to be at risk and he not able to protect them all. He needed them to stay together. “Seraph will do her best to solve their secrets and free the Orders that are bound to the stones. She will not give them to you—I know her well enough to understand that she could never give that task to another, even if you do not. It matters too much to her.” And to you, he thought.

She bowed her head shallowly. “You are right,” she said serenely. “I will come. But I will not stay in Redern, Jes.” She rubbed her hands over her face, and it seemed to Jes that the gesture rubbed away some of her composure. “I cannot be more to you than I am. You are so young. You will find someone else. I am—” She stopped. Took a deep breath. “I was Volis’s leman, Jes.” Her voice shook on the dead priest’s name, though he could tell that she was doing her best to be impassive. It was fortunate for the priest that he was already dead.

She must have felt his reaction because she continued hurriedly. “I chose it because it seemed to be the best way to find out how to save my people. I would do it again. I am not your mother, who chooses her family over duty. I am a Raven first—and Ravens do not make good mates. Strong emotions are almost as dangerous to us as they are to Guardians. I chose not to love, Jes. Not ever. I can’t afford it. You deserve someone who will love you.”

The Guardian closed in on her, but she held her ground even when he put one hand on her neck and the other on her shoulder to hold her still. He bent his head and kissed her—gently at first, though that wasn’t part of his nature. He let Jes return and take control of the kiss just as her shoulder softened under his hand and her lips parted.

Jes savored the touch, but withdrew before Hennea’s snarl of emotions broke the spell of the kiss and made it something more complex.

He didn’t look at her, didn’t want to try and read her face. He didn’t know what emotions she would decipher from his own since he wasn’t certain what he felt.

His father would say that their conversation had resulted in a draw. He’d also say that sometimes, that was the best result you could hope for. Jes was pretty certain this was one of those times.

He didn’t say anything, just stepped back so that she could lead the way back to where the clan waited. He followed her, making certain that she did not come to harm.

Tier fretted because they made slower time once they’d left Benroln and his people. Mostly that was due to Seraph’s insistence on frequent rest stops to spare Tier’s knees. Brewydd had not been so strict a caretaker. In the evenings, Seraph and Hennea continued to spend hours in the illusionary remains of one of the Colossae wizards’ homes as they, and Brewydd, had done since they left Taela. They used Seraph’s mermora, the house that had once belonged to Isolde the Silent.

Tier had known about the mermori for years, but Seraph had seldom done more than look through the graceful silver forms, which to him looked like small elaborate daggers. He’d seen Isolde’s house once or twice, but that didn’t make the sudden appearance of a house in the middle of the wilds any less fantastical.

They were looking for a way to free the Orders that the Path had bound to gemstones.

“It would have been easier,” Seraph told him one night, “if the Path actually managed to do what they had intended. If they had managed to separate the Order completely from the Traveler they killed, the gemstones could probably just have been destroyed to free the Orders.”

“But you can’t do that now.”

She shifted against his side to get more comfortable. He didn’t tell her that her elbow was digging into his ribs where they were still a little tender because that would make her move away from him entirely. She’d wriggle around a bit more before she fell asleep anyway.

“No,” she said, yawning. “Brewydd says there were only ever a few Orders in the world. When one Order Bearer dies, the Order is cleansed and passes to a new bearer. Because of the Path’s interference, these Orders aren’t cleansed.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. He’d missed these late-night talks. When they’d first left Taela, he had been too tired by the time they stopped each night to do anything but sleep. He was tired tonight as well, but not with the kind of exhaustion that made him lose consciousness as soon as he quit moving.

“Most of the gems don’t work quite right,” Seraph said. “What was supposed to happen was when the gem was worn against a wizard’s skin, that wizard could use the powers of the Order just as if he was the Order Bearer they had stolen it from. Brewydd thinks that they were stealing the Order too soon, before it was cleansed by the death of its previous bearer.”

“So the gems are haunted?” Tier asked.

Seraph nodded. “Or so we surmise. Volis said that none of the Healer gems work right.”

“If you break the stones, won’t the Orders be freed?”

Seraph shrugged. “Probably. But they’ll still have bits and pieces of their previous owners’ experience—maybe even personality. Brewydd thought it might keep them from bonding at all—or, worse, make the Order act more like a shadow taint.” She took a deep breath. “Like the Guardian Order, maybe.”