Later that same evening, Matei nudged open the door and looked into the room Aun had commandeered as an infirmary. The soft glow of candles illuminated the still figure on the bed; not far away, a woman's silhouette moved through the ancient ritual of making tea, her long braid swaying as she stepped away from the hearth with the steaming kettle.

"May I have a cup?" he whispered.

Mhera glanced up at him and gave him a fleeting smile. "I don't think you want this brew," she replied. "It's for her bandages."

"Well, when you're done with the kettle, I'll fill it again." Matei stepped into the room, his eyes on Rhea's face. "Is she—?"

"She's doing well. She is stronger than you think, Matei."

"Where's Aun?"

"I'm not sure; probably with Kaori."

There was a chair next to Rhea's bed. Matei slumped into it with a soft laugh. "He must be the neediest patient she's ever had."

"Don't worry. She took her time with Rhea before she went back to him."

"Well, I know Grandmother is in good hands with you." Matei watched as Mhera poured the steaming water into a bowl and began to mix in measures of ingredients she had ready on the sideboard. "Has she woken?"

"Yes—briefly—but she did not say anything. She may wake in a few minutes when I change her bandages. Do you want to stay to help?"

Matei reached out and placed his hand over Rhea's. It was frail and cold. "Of course I will. Mhera...will she really be okay?"

Mhera crossed the room toward the bed, carrying the bowl. She set it on the night stand next to Rhea's bed and placed some clean bandages into the brew to soak. "Aun thinks so. I'm afraid there will be scars. She did not tell us what happened, but what she went through cannot have been easy; I think her heart and mind will require time to heal, too." With a gentle hand, she smoothed the hair back from Rhea's forehead. "She may wish to forget."

The pain of what had happened to Rhea ran deep, and not only because Matei loved her as if she had been his own flesh and blood. She was an innocent in the sweeping drama of the war. She had been the mother of the Rebel Queen, but had never wanted to be involved in the rebellion herself. In fact, she had begged both Rhodana and Matei to keep out of it—advice neither of them had heeded.

Now, Rhodana was dead, and Esaria before her, and Matei was terrified that Rhea would join them.

"I should never have left her alone," he whispered. "We should have brought her with us."

"We couldn't have. It was hard enough for us to get to the Duskwood ourselves." Her tone had become cool and detached; they had never fully discussed this part of their shared past, and no matter where her heart now lay, he knew it was difficult for her to think about. "I was barely sound enough of body to make it through and I'm a third her age, Matei. You had no choice but to leave her behind—and I do not think she would have agreed to go, anyway."

"You're right." With a sigh, Matei looked up at her. "How can I help?"

"Lift her right arm, if you would. We'll need to remove the bandages."

Matei turned Rhea's arm over and began to unwind the bandages as Mhera stirred the new bandages into the bath of herbs. The wound revealed was a deep and ugly cut. Matei, who had never shrunk from blood, had to fight the urge to turn away; his gut churned with sympathy and guilt. He set the dirty bandages aside and laid Rhea's arm on the blanket. As he pulled his hand away, the old woman's frail fingers closed around his wrist.

"Matei." Rhea's eyes were half open, and she was smiling at him. "Are you all right, child?"

Rhea's face blurred before Matei's eyes. He laughed in disbelief. "Am I all right? Rhea...sweet Rhea. How do you feel?"

The old woman sighed and closed her eyes, the faint smile lingering on her lips. "I will be okay now. Now that you're here."

"It's more than that," said Matei. "The war is over. You'll be safe."

Mhera approached with her bowl. She took out a soft cloth and tipped her head at Matei. He slid his chair to the right, closer to Rhea's head, as Mhera began to bathe Rhea's arm. As she sponged the scabs, Matei watched, sick with grief. "Grandmother, what did they do to you?"

"It's over now," Rhea said. Her thin voice betrayed that she was in pain. "It doesn't matter."

"I need to know. Was it the emperor?"

Rhea nodded. "Him, and his mage." She was quiet for a moment, her eyes still closed. "They wanted you to come to them."

"I would have, if I had known."

"No. It was some kind of magic. Deep magic. They thought it was in my blood—the power to call you—but I do not think they knew..."

Matei understood. The emperor and the archmage had thought Rhea was his grandmother by blood. They had thought the link of kinship would give them the power to speak to Matei or cause him some pain by acting through Rhea. He wished they had been right. Had the blood link enabled them to send him some message, he would have come.

"The emperor is dead," he said. Saying it aloud gave him a measure of joy.

Rhea opened her eyes again and searched Matei's face. "And the mage? The one with the bloodstone on his staff?"

Matei glanced at Mhera, who was wringing out the bandages now. He took Rhea's wrist gently and held up her arm so that Mhera could wind the linen strips around her forearm. "I don't know."

A shudder passed through Rhea's weakened body. "Find him, Matei, if you can. But be careful. Mark me...he is an evil man. The emperor was not half the scourge to the Arcborn as that cold-eyed man must be. I could sense it in him."

"He ran. Escaped. What can there be left for him here?"

"Power." Rhea shook her head. "What else? The power in our blood."

Aha...the mysterious archmage. Wonder what he's up to these days?

So there you have it: Rhea has survived, at least for now, and Matei will have her here with him in the capitol for a while, at least.

I'll give you a teaser for our next update: it's the final flashback from Matei's childhood. In it, we'll see how he met the woman he came to know as "Grandmother..."