Dawn moved slowly across the dunes. A cool wind brushed the crests of sand, carrying the dry whisper of shifting grains. Somewhere beyond the ridge a bird gave a sharp call, then the desert fell quiet again.

  Soft steps pressed into the sand.

  Elowen walked toward the canyon that cut the desert not far from the palace. From the surface it appeared only as a long fracture in the earth, but near the bridge the ground fell away sharply, stone walls dropping into shadow. The descent to the bottom was long and narrow, a path carved into the rock by generations of water that no longer flowed.

  By the time she reached the canyon floor, the first light of morning had begun to reach the upper ridges.

  Elowen closed her eyes.

  She extended her hands slightly at her sides. The necklace beneath her collar pulsed slowly against her skin, the three fragments beating in the same quiet rhythm.

  She drew a slow breath. Then another.

  The air felt different now. Alive in a way she had not noticed before.

  A faint current moved across the canyon floor. The sand lifted first in small restless curls, then in widening spirals around her feet. The wind gathered strength, circling her in slow deliberate motion.

  Her feet rose from the ground.

  For a moment she hung suspended in the moving air, the fragments warm against her chest.

  Then the wind carried her upward.

  When her feet touched stone again, she was standing on the bridge.

  She dropped to one knee, steadying herself with one hand against the ground. Her palm pressed into the cool surface of the stone as she tried to understand what she had just done.

  A sound shifted in the sand behind her.

  Elowen turned.

  At first she saw only movement in the distance. The light was still low and her eyes narrowed against the glare rising from the dunes.

  Then she recognized the figure.

  For a moment she could not move. She had imagined this moment too many times to count, yet none of those imagined versions had prepared her for the way her chest tightened now, for the sudden tilt of the world beneath her feet. The last time she had seen him she had refused to look at him. The memory rose between them like a wall she herself had built, and now she stood on the wrong side of it, unable to decide whether to tear it down or remain where she was.

  Every part of her wanted to go to him. The pull was immediate, almost painful in its urgency. But something heavier held her where she stood, rooted in the sand.

  Shame.

  Roderic began to walk toward her.

  Each step seemed slow against the wide quiet of the desert. Elowen held her breath without realizing it, watching him cross the distance she could not bring herself to close.

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  He stopped a few paces away.

  He waited.

  Tears had already blurred her sight when she finally lifted her eyes to meet his.

  Roderic stepped closer then, slowly, as though careful not to break whatever fragile space had formed between them. He lifted a hand and brushed the tears from her cheek, the gesture so familiar that for a moment she forgot everything that had come between them.

  Elowen closed her eyes. For a moment she leaned into the warmth of his hand.

  When she opened them again, for a moment they simply looked at one another. His warm hazel eyes held her.

  Then whatever restraint had held her broke. She stepped forward and fell into his arms. The breath she drew shattered into a sob.

  Roderic held her tightly against him.

  Between sobs, her fingers clutched the fabric of his cloak as though letting go might make him disappear. “I’m sorry,” she managed, the words breaking apart in her throat. “I’m so sorry.”

  Roderic pressed his cheek gently against the crown of her head, holding her while her shoulders trembled against him. “Sorry for what?” he asked quietly.

  She drew in a shaky breath and stepped back, and he released her reluctantly. “What do you mean for what?” She wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’ve done nothing but refuse or ruin every kindness you’ve ever shown me.”

  “Kindness?” The word seemed to strike something raw in him. His expression tightened, almost offended by it. “This has nothing to do with kindness, Elowen. It never has.”

  Her arms lowered slowly, the warmth of the embrace fading as the distance between them returned. Almost without thinking, her fingers drifted to the necklace at her throat. The metal felt cold beneath her touch. Serenya’s voice surfaced in her mind with infuriating clarity—silk-smooth, amused, as though the truth had always been obvious to everyone but her.

  You don’t mistake his letters for interest, do you?

  Elowen’s jaw tightened. She forced herself to meet Roderic’s eyes.

  “Right,” she said quietly. “The Wall.”

  Roderic frowned, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

  “The Wall,” she repeated, the words carrying more bitterness than she intended. “Prince Nasim has taken me in.” Her gaze held his, searching for the reaction she feared. “You can rest assured he wants the same thing you do. He intends to restore it.”

  “Does he?” Roderic’s face hardened, the warmth draining from his features. “Is that what he told you?”

  Elowen looked up at him, searching his expression. “Why do you say it like that?” she asked slowly. “Do you not trust him?”

  Something in the way she looked at him—openly, almost instinctively—softened the tension in his posture. The trust in her eyes disarmed him in a way arguments never could. “He isn’t exactly known for clean intentions,” Roderic said, his voice lower now. Almost without thinking, he stepped a little closer.

  A falcon’s cry cut faintly through the sky above them. Elowen lifted her gaze, following the sound until the bird wheeled high overhead, and a small smile appeared on her face. When she looked back at him, the shadow that had crossed her expression seemed lighter.

  “You must come with me to the palace,” she said suddenly, reaching out and catching his arm with sudden excitement. “There’s something I want to give you.”

  Roderic smiled at the urgency in her voice and allowed himself to be pulled along. As they began to cross the bridge together, he said almost casually, “I’ve brought something for you as well.”

  Elowen stopped so abruptly that he nearly walked into her. “What is it?” Her eyes searched his face with immediate curiosity.

  He laughed softly. “I don’t have it on me.”

  Her expression shifted instantly into suspicion.

  “I’ve been carrying it with me for a while,” he explained. “I’ll give it to you once we reach the palace.”

  “Very well,” she said, though her tone made it clear she was far from satisfied, and she resumed walking.

  The air between them felt strangely alive now. Elowen struggled to contain the restless energy rising inside her. More than once she nearly reached for his hand, tempted by the warmth she remembered so clearly, by the quiet shelter of his arms. His embrace had always been the one place where the constant vigilance inside her seemed to quiet.

  Sometimes she felt his gaze resting on her, and when she turned she would catch it—quiet, watching her in that way he always had. Each time it happened she struggled to keep her smile contained, though she no longer wished to hide it as fiercely as before. He was here. He had not turned away from her. And for now—for this moment—that was enough.

  They walked side by side across the bridge toward the palace. Once their sleeves brushed and neither of them moved away.

  Elowen glanced sideways at him. “You’re still not going to tell me what you brought?”

  Roderic’s mouth curved faintly. “Not yet.”

  The palace gates opened ahead of them.