They kept riding, following the stream north into the mountains, until the sun was nearly set. They made camp by the stream, where there was a sturdy tree to tie the horses. Donovan collected wood for a fire while Maren unpacked what they needed for dinner.

They debated setting up the tent, but ultimately decided against it. It was chilly, but the sky was clear, and they thought they'd be warm enough with the fire and the bedrolls. And the truth was, they were too tired to try to figure out how to do it. Hopefully, the weather would hold until they made it to Karlyn's cabin, and then they could deal with the tent.

There had been a good bit of tension between them as they rode. They handled the business of getting through the day pleasantly enough, but they didn't discuss anything else. Donovan knew Maren needed space, but he also thought she needed to talk to him. He couldn't make her, though. He'd have to wait for her to be ready.

"You know, I pictured what this trip looked like when you first told me about it, but it's not at all what I expected," Donovan said after they had finished eating something the soldiers assured them was edible but was not overly pleasant. He hoped engaging Maren on some other topic might help.

She smiled, "Well, you're half right. I only ever made this trip in late Spring. I've never seen it in Autumn before.

It was beautiful, rocky and somewhat sparse, but there were plenty of trees turning brilliant shades of orange and red. It felt like a painting.

He was thinking about the night she told him about running away from home. She hadn't wanted to, and it had been a painful telling for her. He knew it was difficult for her to remember the fear of those days.

But she had made a bargain with him. It seemed like so long ago, he barely remembered it. He told her about his first two Selections, and she had told him about her thirteenth birthday.

Obviously, that sort of tit-for-tat would be completely inappropriate for this circumstance, but perhaps...

"I wish we had some brandy," he said after they ate.

"As lovely as that sounds, I'm not sure if I can stomach it, you can have mine," she said with a smile. She seemed to be doing alright with her morning sickness, but Donovan had seen enough to know it was an ever-present thing.

"I think I'd need it... I think... I want to tell you what happened while I was at the palace, if that's alright," he said.

Even in the low firelight, he could tell she was surprised, but then her surprise turned into sympathy, and she said, "Of course."

So he did. He told her everything that happened in his parents' sitting room: how Kieran killed their father, how he trapped Donovan and his mother there, and how he had broken out eventually. He also told her how awful it was to know that she needed him, and he could do nothing to help her, and how terrible it had been to be helpless while his father died.

"It still doesn't feel real. I know what happened, I know my father is dead, but...there was no funeral, no chance to say goodbye. It doesn't feel like something that truly happened," he said.

She nodded. "I think grief is often like that. And it isn't as though we've had a particularly peaceful time since then. You've barely had time to breathe, much less mourn."

He nodded, there was a lot of truth to that.

"It was difficult to be so helpless for so long. And then to have it happen all over again with Kieran at the roadblock..." he trailed off, not sure how to say what he was feeling.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. "I know... I know that was awful for you."

His heart ached for her. He had no doubt that had been just as awful for her. He pulled her close, and they lay together leaning against one of the packs.

"No, love, don't apologize for that. You did the right thing. It was a horrible person doing horrible things to us and, well, I suppose it's like any wound-it takes time to heal."

She sighed. "I just want to forget it," she said.

"I know. But can you?" he knew that he could not forget what Kieran had done to him.

"I don't think I can talk about it yet," she said after a tense silence.

He kissed her forehead. "I know, love. You don't have to, but you also don't have to pretend everything is fine."

"Did it help? The talking?"

He thought about it for a moment. He hadn't wanted to talk about it, and he had only done it because he thought it would help her. But the truth was, it had helped him too.

"It did. It didn't heal it, but I think perhaps the wound has been properly dressed at least."

She nodded and fell silent for a time. They laid together and watched the fire. It was very peaceful.

"I'm very ashamed," she said. "I let him...I let him humiliate me again and again."

He closed his eyes and pressed her to him.

"I don't think you 'let' him do anything. He is so powerful, he can do anything he wants. Whatever happened, whatever he made you do, I know you were trying to stay alive."

"And know that nothing you tell me could ever change how I feel about you," he added, thinking he'd identified at least part of the problem.

She nodded and pressed her face into his chest. He could tell she was crying.

Finally, she said, "I was so scared they would take me back to him yesterday. I just couldn't bear to end up back in his office."

He pressed her close again. "I would never have let that happen, love," he assured her.

"I know that now," she said. "I couldn't see it yesterday, though."

He nodded. He hadn't really seen that either, but he could understand that better once she told him.

"We'll get through it, love," he said. "Together."

-

Maren found it both cathartic and painful coming up into the mountains. As they traveled, she felt the joy of her trips to see Karlyn, but also the grief of her death in a way she hadn't for years. The mountains were very peaceful and soothing, but she and Donovan both mourned the lives they had left behind. And of course, they still had a great deal of healing to do.

The tension had eased between her and Donovan after they spoke the first night. He stopped asking if she was all right, and she stopped insisting she was. That helped.

They both slept surprisingly well, considering they were on the ground in the open air. They were both exhausted after spending the whole day in the saddle.

As often happens, they were terribly sore the next day, and climbing back onto their horses was uncomfortable. Maren had offered to heal Donovan's aches and pains, but he refused.

"If you do, I'll never get used to it, and it'll be a very long trip if I don't," he said.

She thought perhaps he did it in solidarity with her since she couldn't be healed, and thought that was both silly and romantic.

She was looking forward to reaching Karlyn's cabin, so they could rest for a few days. It would be nice to stay in one place for more than a night, although she was worried about how she might feel when she got there. She knew she would feel her grief for Karlyn more acutely, and was not quite sure that she had the capacity to cope with it at the moment. There was nothing she could do about it in advance, though.

"Today, do you think?" Donovan asked on the morning of the third day as they broke camp.

"I think so," she said. "But not until late."

They had made good progress on their second day, she thought, but it was difficult to tell for sure. Everything looked so different at that time of year, and it had been a long time since she had followed the stream to Karlyn's. She didn't see any of the landmarks she used to have.

But the distance was still more or less the same, though, so she thought it likely they'd make it by the end of the day.

Much like the second day, the third day was uneventful. They rode along the stream, passing trees and boulders and small animals, mostly rabbits and squirrels. Donovan was particularly enchanted to see a deer drinking from the stream. Maren supposed that having lived in the Capital his whole life, he probably had not seen much in the way of wildlife.

It was early evening by the time they reached the place where the spring ended, and they turned off to go to Karlyn's cabin.

Maren felt inexplicably nervous. It was silly really, as she knew there wouldn't be anything at all to find at the cabin, but the butterflies fluttered in her stomach nonetheless. She decided to have some of the oatcake she'd stored in her pocket, but it didn't help.

Maren could not yet see the cabin when she heard something she did not understand. But there was no doubt, it was the unmistakable clucking of chickens.

Karlyn's chickens had all run off before Maren had come for the final time. She couldn't imagine they would have come back. And besides, that was more than eight years ago. Did chickens live that long? She wasn't sure.

She was about to ask Donovan if he heard them too when she smelled a fire. Not a wildfire, but a friendly hearth fire that she had always smelled coming from Karlyn's cabin while she was alive.

She stopped the horses and turned to look back at Donovan.

"Someone's living here," she hissed.

He looked very alarmed. "We should move on."

She frowned. "We have to stay somewhere tonight and if someone is using Karlyn's cabin, I mean to find out who they are and why," she said stubbornly. "It doesn't belong to them."

She knew that wasn't completely fair, it was not her cabin either, but the idea of someone else in Karlyn's home bothered her tremendously. She was also thinking about the letter Karlyn had left for her in her desk. She needed it.

Donovan did not look pleased, but Maren continued on at a trot.

The cabin looked very much like it had years ago, complete with chickens in the clearing in front of the house. But there was a shelter that had never been there before and a donkey standing in it.

The donkey brayed loudly in greeting when he saw them. Maren shushed him, but the donkey just brayed again. She thought it likely that whoever was in the cabin would appear soon.

Fine, Maren would take care of that.

She slid off her horse but held the reins and led it further into the clearing. She was feeling furious, how dare someone set up house in Karlyn's home?

She glared at the door, waiting for someone to come out.

An older woman, maybe in her late sixties or seventies, appeared. Her grey hair was up in a neat bun, and she wore a clean but worn grey dress. She had on an apron and appeared to have been in the middle of making bread or something, judging by the flour all over it. She has sharp features and her eyes were suspicious.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Maren demanded.

The woman just blinked at her.

"Who am I? You're standing in my front yard, asking who I am? Who are you?" the woman said.

"This is not your front yard. This house belonged to a friend of mine, and you have no business being here," Maren said.

The woman raised a skeptical eyebrow at her.

"Put that away, girl, you have no idea what you're dealing with," she said.

Maren hadn't even noticed she had drawn the Light to her hands, but she decided she liked it that way.

She allowed the Light to flare larger.

"I think perhaps you don't know what you're dealing with," Maren snarled.

The woman just looked at her, completely unperturbed. And then she cocked her head and squinted at her.

"Are you Maren?"

—

A/N: Just a few more chapters to go! Thanks for reading!