Now she did drift, for a moment, for an hour—she couldn’t know. Dimly, she heard a voice. Riley.

“Fuckers won’t try that again anytime soon. Now let’s get this rescue party— Jesus, Jesus Christ. Bran!”

Hands on her, lifting her.

“No, no, Sawyer. He’s hurt. They hurt him. Sawyer.”

“Bran’s got him, Gorgeous. We’ve got him.”

“Doyle, take her out, into the pool. She needs the water. Riley, more towels. We need to stop this bleeding so Bran can work on him.” Sasha dropped beside Bran. “How bad?”

“Very. He’s lost a lot of blood. I think his cheekbone’s shattered, and his eye . . .”

“Let me help. I can take some of it.”

“It’s too much, Sasha.”

“I can do it. I can help.” She laid a hand on Sawyer’s cheek. Gave a shocked cry. “Oh, God.”

“Stop. It’s more than you can do.”

“It’s not. Work through me.” Desperation, pity, love all tangled in her. “You said you trusted me. Trust me now.”

Riley hurried back, took one look at Sasha’s pale, sweaty face, at Bran’s utter focus. She dropped down, pressed a towel to the wound on Sawyer’s side.

“Come on, Dead-Eye, come on. I’m damned if you’re going to bleed out on this kitchen floor.” She looked up at Doyle. “You shouldn’t leave her alone.”

“She’s doing better, and asked me to see Sawyer. She’ll do better yet if I can tell her . . . Good Christ, the bastards worked on him.”

“That’s enough there, Sasha.”

“A little more. I can do more. Doyle, tell her he’s going to be all right, then get Bran’s big kit. Riley?”

“Blood’s slowed, but I can’t stop it.”

“Bran will. He will. I see us, together. All of us. On a hill with a circle of stones, and the sea is blue. I see it, and we’re six. Get the kit, Doyle, and tell Annika he’ll be all right.”

“I’m here.” She came in, naked, legs shaky. “I believe.”

“Here you go.” Doyle swung off his coat, wrapped her in it. “You’re cold.”

“He came for me. He tricked them, and he came for me. He risked all for me, for us, for the stars. He is courage.” Tears streamed as she knelt down. “Let me help.”

Malmon crawled. The light, the terrible light, had blinded him. All he saw was the dark. And the pain! Even now, with the screams and thundering dropped away into a brutal silence, his body burned.

He smelled his own smoking skin and hot blood.

But he lived, so he crawled over the scorched, stony ground. He craved water, cool, cool water, for his body, for his throat. He would have given half his wealth for a cup of water.

Then he heard her voice, and trembled.

“You failed me.”

“No, my queen. No. We were ambushed, tricked, but even now soldiers are taking them. You will have all six. Please, they hurt me.”

“Your soldiers failed, and are gone from this world as all the others you brought here.”

“Please, my love, my queen, the light burned me. My eyes. Help me.”

Full of pain, he crawled toward the sound of her voice, and was struck back.

“Why should I help one who failed me? I gave you a gift, and what have you given me?”

“All I am, all I have.” Blindly, he reached up.

“You are nothing. You have nothing but what I grant you. You had two tasks, my pet. The stars, the guardians. For these two tasks, I would have given you eternal life, eternal youth, and all you could wish for. You have none of them.”

“I will. I swear it, I won’t fail.”

“You’re blind. Weak. Nothing but a broken shell.”

“Help me.” Though every inch burned, he crawled again. “Help me see, help me heal. I’ll bring you the stars. I’ll bring them bathed in the blood of the guardians.”

“You want to see?”

“Restore my eyes, I beg you. I can’t find the stars, can’t kill those who stand against you if I can’t see.”

“You want to see?” she repeated, and the laugh in her voice made him tremble. “And if I grant you this, you will pledge yourself to my service?”

“I am your servant. I will be your servant. Have mercy.”

“Mercy is a weakness. I am strength. I’ll give you sight again, my pet. I’ll let you see.”

His eyes seemed to boil in his head. He screamed, screamed until his throat bled, covered his burning eyes as he tried to claw his way back from the pain.

The tears he wept were bloody.

Through the screams, through the agony, he heard her laugh.

And through the dark, he began to see.

Her hair flew around her face in coils, and on her face lived a mad satisfaction as he writhed and shrieked. Still, the man and what that man had nearly become held out its hands to her.

A supplicant.

“Never ask for mercy.” She smiled at him, almost kindly. “And do not fail me again. There, crawl back in your hole.” She gestured toward the cave. “And await my pleasure.”

“Don’t leave me. Take me with you. Take me with you so I may serve you.”