royal_guarantor

Roshaun often dreamed, the way this one began. The effect of a life being taught to fear wasn't easily undone, even in a place of safety, and it had only been a few months.

He was in the palace, as usual, and there were assassins everywhere, and he was alone. He ran, full pelt with no thought for dignity, down the corridors and through doors... and then when he passed through one of them, he was somewhere else.

A building he recognised, dimly, as a hospital. And the assassins were still after him, but they were different now, horribly different, dead and burned and rotting.

He lingered a second too long, horrified and staring, before he turned back to run, and a thrown knife caught him in the shoulder, making him stumble.

They took the chance. The next was another knife to his leg, and then an energy weapon, aimed for his heart.

It missed as he dodged, by just enough to save his life but not his flesh. And then he woke.

Stephanie,

I'm sorry to do this with so little warning, and not to have told you face to face, but the time has come for Dairine and I to take our leave of the bar.

We have everything in hand, every possible variable accounted for, and we believe this wizardry will take us home. Don't worry about us, though I know you will.

If you wish to get a message to me, leaving one with the Bar may see it delivered via my manual. It cannot hurt to try, at least.

Be well, Stephanie.

Goodbye.

Roshaun ke Nelaid am Seriv am Teliuyve am Meseph am Veliz am Teriaunst am det Nuiiliat.

It's late.

Late enough to be sleeping, especially when you're young and under stress.

The 'under stress' part would also explain why Roshaun and Dairine didn't even bother starting the night in separate beds, tonight. It's innocent, still, but sometimes you need someone there.

He slept unusually well, and exhaustion is only part of the explanation for it.

When he wakes, he finds that he and Dairine are no longer on opposite sides of the bed, as when they went to sleep. Her head is on his chest, at a slightly awkward angle, and he's curled protectively around her.

He blinks but doesn't move, unwilling to wake her.

Kit shakes his head. "It didn't work", he breathes. "With all that power, how could it not work?"

"It did work", Tuyet says, hardly above a whisper. "It just wasn't enough." He sounds desperately tired. "Look", he says. "It's coming back."

Kit looks at Darryl. "Now what?"

And Roshaun knows. There is something he can do, more than any of the others can now, and it's his time to try. He stands up.

"Now, this. And perhaps this will be enough."