by Shae Ford
“And drier, and exceptionally sandy? Yeah, I think I know the place you’re talking about,” Shamus said, returning her smirk. “And while I don’t fancy the desert, I certainly don’t envy the poor fellows treading on Gilderick’s soil. There’re some pretty salty rumors wafting up from that place. I hope they know what they’re getting into.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I doubt it. But they’re in good hands.”
He watched her stare vacantly at Roost: looking, but not really seeing. There was no end to the emptiness behind her eyes. He couldn’t stand it any longer: he had to ask. “Will we ever see young Master Kael again?”
Her shoulders rose and fell. “That’s entirely up to him.”
“Haven’t you got a choice?”
“No, I haven’t.” Her eyes hardened, she seemed to be fighting against a great swell of emotion. “It’s a strange feeling … and here I thought I’d been wounded in every possible way. I’m not sure how to go on. How does one go on?” She turned to Shamus, the steel in her eyes replaced by hurt. “How can anybody stand it?”
Poor lass. Shamus put a hand on her shoulder, squeezed until his fingers hurt and doubted if she ever felt a thing. “You can’t stand it,” he said, and tried to say it gently. “It bites us all, Lady Dragon — no matter how thick the armor. And you can’t heal it, not really. You just got to bury it under your work and let time do the rest.”
She smiled, then, though it was a sad smile. She crossed her arms and looked out at the sea, and still smiling, she said: “Well, time is something I’ve got plenty of. I suppose I’ll just wait for him, then. And I’ll wait forever … until the last sun rises.”
Map of the lands in Harbinger
