Ilar pressed his hand to his heart and gave him a small bow. “Whatever your reason, I thank you. If you only knew what it was like, seeing him again…But I’ll take more care around him, I swear!”

“You’d better.”

Seregil had found Sebrahn squatting in the dappled shade under a gnarled tree. His back was to Seregil but he turned as soon as he heard him approaching, long silvery hair swinging around his shoulders. Seregil had given up cutting it as often. It was too disconcerting to see it grow back.

Distracted by the hair, it took Seregil a moment to notice that Sebrahn held a cup in both hands. The rhekaro rose and offered it to him. A large blue lotus filled the cup. “What’s that for?”

Sebrahn pointed at Seregil’s bruised face. “Oh that? It’s-”

There was a deep gash in Sebrahn’s forearm. The strange pale blood was still flowing, and a trail of dark spots in the dust led back to the open bundle, and the knife beside it.

“How did you know?” Seregil muttered. “And what have you done to yourself? I don’t need that.”

He scooped the wet flower from the cup and pressed it to Sebrahn’s wound. It evaporated like a mist between his fingers, but the gash remained open and bleeding.

“You can’t heal yourself?” Seregil’s hands were covered in that strange blood now. It was cool and slick and unpleasant on his skin, yet he couldn’t help feeling pity for the rhekaro. What sort of life was Sebrahn supposed to have, made as he was?

The rhekaro walked unsteadily back toward the fallen cup, perhaps intending to make another healing flower for Seregil, but he wobbled and fell before he could reach it.

“Alec, come quick!” Seregil shouted, forgetting caution for a dangerous moment. Going to Sebrahn, he tried to staunch the wound with a rag from the bundle. Sebrahn was limp and slumped over on his side, eyes half-closed.

“What is it?” Alec asked, dashing through the trees toward him, sword drawn.

Seregil gathered the little body into his arms. “He’s hurt himself. I think he needs you.”

Alec knelt and examined the wound. “He did this himself?”

“Alec, I wouldn’t…”

Alec gave him a brief smile. “I know that. I just didn’t think he could-never mind. Give me that knife, quick.”

Alec sliced his own finger deeply and let his blood flow between Sebrahn’s parted lips.

For a long moment nothing happened. Red blood trickled from the slack mouth, streaking the pale chin, which looked even whiter than normal. Then those pale lashes fluttered and the tip of a grey tongue appeared, lapping like a kitten at the blood.

“Watch his arm,” Alec told him.

As Seregil watched, the skin closed itself, sealing into a thin white scar like the ones on Sebrahn’s fingers and wrist.

The rhekaro’s eyes were open now, and he was sucking harder at Alec’s finger.

“Maybe you should give him extra. He fainted, or something, just from what little blood he lost.”

“We don’t know what a lot or a little is to him.” Alec cradled Sebrahn’s head in one hand. “Poor little thing. Maybe I’ve been starving him.”

This time Alec let Sebrahn drink as long as he wanted. He’d always felt a strange pull inside when he fed him, but it was much stronger now, like when Yhakobin had Alec feed the first rhekaro after one of the alchemist’s crueler explorations. He was shivering by the time Seregil reached over and pulled Alec’s hand away.

“No more, talí. You’ve gone pale, yourself.”

“I feel a little shaky,” he admitted. “But look!”

For the first time, the rhekaro’s face and the quick of his nails showed the faintest tinge of pink. His eyes were darker silver now, too, almost the color of steel.

Seregil cupped Alec’s chin and inspected him closely. “You look different, too. More like your old self.”

“It’s like he’s pulling the Hâzadriëlfaie out of me,” Alec whispered, hugging himself and shivering harder.

Seregil fetched the water skin and made Alec drink, then sat behind him and pulled Alec against his chest to warm him. Sebrahn climbed into Alec’s lap and cuddled against him.

Alec hugged the rhekaro close. “He doesn’t feel quite so cold now.”

Seregil wound a strand of silvery hair around one finger. “I wish you could talk, little one. There’s more to you than meets the eye, and I’d be a lot happier if I knew what it was.”

“Maybe there’s more Ilar hasn’t told us,” said Alec.

“Maybe.” Seregil rested his unbruised cheek against the side of Alec’s head.

He relaxed back against him, glad for a moment of peace. Any anger he’d felt toward Seregil was gone. They were all in a miserable situation.

“What was all that shouting?”

“I just told Ilar to stay away from you.”

“You threatened him.”

“I just told him to leave you alone.”

“Good.”

Alec turned to look at him. “You really mean that?”

“Ah, Alec.”

“I wasn’t the one calling him ‘friend.’”

“I loved him once. You know that. And then I hated him.”

“And now you pity him.”

“I wish I didn’t. But I swear to you, talí, you have no reason to be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous of him!”

Seregil smiled sadly. “Just as I’m not jealous of Sebrahn?”

“You don’t-Wait, where is Ilar?”

“I’m here.” The man joined them and crouched beside the fire, chaffing his hands over the flames.

“I heard what you said before,” he told them dully. “I’ve told you everything I know about the rhekaro. I don’t care if you believe me or not. It’s the truth. What reason would I have to lie now? You were right, Alec. It’s only because of you two I’m alive, and I’m grateful for that. Just take me out of this cursed country. After that, I’ll fend for myself.”

Alec watched him closely through this little speech, alert for any false notes. But all he saw in Ilar’s red-rimmed eyes was resignation, and-when he spoke of going off on his own-fear.

By sundown everyone was warm, dry, and somewhat rested. Alec had managed to sleep again with Sebrahn safely beside him. He woke smiling from a dream of Seregil’s long fingers caressing the nape of his neck, but the moment didn’t last. Ilar had interrupted them before they could really settle anything between them and now Seregil sat on the far side of the fire, looking sad. He looked away quickly when he realized Alec was awake.

Miserable, Alec sat up to feed Sebrahn. “Do you think we can reach the coast tonight?”

“If not tonight, then tomorrow for certain,” Seregil said as he parceled out the last of the rabbit meat and an apple for each of them.

Alec ate his portion very slowly, aware of the silence underlying the words. He wanted to grab Seregil, tell him he understood that all Seregil felt for Ilar was pity, but the words backed up in his throat as Alec pictured the two of them there by the stream.

He did trust Seregil! So why couldn’t he let go of this?

“Maybe I can find us some rabbits here. It’s better country for it,” he offered, hoping to get a response, but his talimenios just stared into the fire, as if he knew Alec’s thoughts.

“Better that than snake,” Ilar remarked with a weak smile.

“Too cold for snakes now,” Seregil told him, rising to his feet. “We’re more likely to find a village, or at least a decent farm. Hunger always sharpens my thievery skills.”

As soon as it was dark, they cleaned up their camp, then took off their boots and walked down the streambed as far as they could bear, feet going numb in the icy water.

When Seregil judged they’d gone far enough to confuse the trail, they struck north and east for a while to finish the job. It lost them miles and time, but hopefully any pursuers wouldn’t come looking in this direction.

As the night dragged on, Seregil’s silence continued. His past had come between them again like an unwelcome shadow and now he was a dark, driven shape in the dark beside Alec and the bond was silent.