She didn't know.
"Annice?"
She could feel each thread of the clothing pressed against her, feel Pjerin's breath warm on her face, feel the weight of his concern. Slowly, she opened her eyes.
There wasn't a lot of light, but Pjerin was so close that she didn't need much light to see him. He'd shaved off his beard and the white skin of his lower face looked ridiculous against the upper tan. She tried to tell him so but, again, all that emerged was a dry croak.
He slipped his arm behind her and lifted her head. "Here, drink this. Not so fast," he cautioned as her mouth gaped and she desperately gulped at the liquid.
The water felt like silk on the inside of her throat, stroking and soothing abraded flesh. Her hands came up and grabbed the cup. The metal was cool and beaded with moisture, but when she tried to tip it higher, she couldn't budge it against Pjerin's strength.
When it was empty, she managed a single word. "More."
Pjerin handed the cup to Gerek who scrambled to his feet and raced from her limited line of sight.
Because he was all she could see, Annice watched Pjerin watching her. The intensity of emotion on his face puzzled her and she wondered why he held her hands as though afraid to let them go.
Then Gerek came back with the second cup of water and she realized what that meant.
Gerek lived.
She'd somehow done the impossible.
As she drank, she tried to sort through what had happened, but her memories were cloudy and uncertain. The kigh had Sung with her and so had… so had… The harder she tried, the less clear it became, so she sighed and let it go. Later, she'd have someone put her into a recall trance, but for now it would have to be enough that Gerek lived.
The cup empty, she flinched as the baby squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position in what was becoming too little space.
"Pjerin?"
He leaned even closer to hear her.
"I've got to… pee."
His smile seemed to spread from ear to ear, but there was a new gentleness in it that she found she rather liked the look of. "Of course you do."
He had to lift her to her feet and then he had to half carry her out of the cave. To her surprise, her helplessness made her neither resentful nor embarrassed. Pjerin's strength was there for her to lean on, but it wasn't a threat and it wasn't a challenge.
This mood can't last, she mused, as he shooed Gerek away and left her tucked behind a bush, braced against the flat side of a boulder. When she finished, she managed to stand by herself and, using the rock as a support, came back around it into the sun. The sun.
"Pjerin, how long…"
Squinting, he followed her line of sight, then gave her his arm so she could lower herself onto a shelf cut out of the side of the ravine. "Almost a full day."
That explained how stiff she was but not much else. "How's Gerek?"
"Gerek's fine." Pjerin dropped to one knee beside her. "How are you?"
"I feel as though I've been… peeled. Like an apple. My core is exposed and bits of me are turning… brown and mushy." Her voice dragged itself through the ruin of her throat. "And I seem to have become a… bass-baritone."
Pjerin shook his head, his nose wrinkled with exaggerated distaste. "What a wonderful analogy," he said, then he grew serious. "Annice, there's no way I can thank you for what you did and I meant what I said. You've given me back my son, so I'll step aside. This baby is yours."
Annice drew in a long breath, tasting the scent of running water, of the pines that towered over the edge of the ravine, of the sun-warmed rocks, of the man by her side. Just on the edge of awareness, she could hear the Song that held everything together. She wasn't even really worried about her voice. Considering the extremes she'd forced it through, she'd have been more surprised had it not sounded like a dull saw ripping soft wood. And now, Pjerin had offered her the only thing she wanted from him; her child. Hers. With no danger of him ever winning its heart and taking it away.
"Don't be ridiculous," she told him. "This isn't my baby anymore than it's yours."
He looked confused as she took his hand and placed it on the arc of her belly.
"Ours," she said softly. Her baby deserved the kind of father Pjerin had proven himself to be and he had as much right to its love as she did.
Pjerin swallowed and she laid her ringers around the curve of his jaw. He turned his head and pressed his lips against her palm.
"Papa?" Gerek's head poked out of the cave. "Can I come now?"
Not trusting his voice, Pjerin nodded and Gerek launched himself across the distance between them, careening into the circle of his father's arm—Pjerin winced at the impact against his wounded shoulder but only pulled the boy closer. Gerek peered up at Annice with brilliant eyes and, as far as she could see, he seemed none the worse for his ordeal. "Are you okay, Nees?"
"Mostly."
"Papa was real worried." Suddenly becoming aware of the position of Pjerin's other hand, Gerek frowned. "Hey, I wasn't allowed to touch."
Annice smiled. "You can touch now."
"Really?" His small hand pressed against her. "Is it a baby?"
Briefly, she wondered what else he thought it might be. "Yes. It's your sister."
"Brother," Pjerin corrected absently.
Annice contemplated smacking him. "Don't start."
Stasya was alive! Stasya was alive! Annice's heart Sang the words, Sang the notes that made up Stasya's name, Sang the words again. Stasya's alive! However Theron and hence the guard had discovered that she and Pjerin were traveling together, it hadn't been through Stasya. And whatever questions Theron and the Bardic Captain had asked, Stasya hadn't been put under Command, hadn't been charged with treason, hadn't been executed.
"Annice, are you listening?"
She started. "Of course I'm listening. The king is coming to Ohrid. Stasya brought the news." Stasya was alive!
Pjerin rolled his eyes. "I suppose it hasn't occurred to you that the king coming to Ohrid is going to destroy our plans."
Annice let go of her joy long enough to snort. "Pjerin, we didn't have a plan. You were going to go to Ohrid and clear your name. That was the full extent of it."
He opened his mouth and closed it again.
"You were going to make a plan when we got closer," she reminded him. Although still hoarse, she'd regained sufficient control of her voice to layer on a fine shading of sarcasm. "I don't want to rush you, but this seems like a good time."
"A little difficult to make plans without information," Pjerin growled staring at the dusty, cracked leather of his boot tops.
"Well, you might have made a plan to get information."
"I thought I'd leave that up to you." He glowered at her. "Isn't that what bards do?"
"Yeah? Well, bards also…"
"I'm not done," Gerek interrupted indignantly.
They were sitting just outside the cave, soaking up the late afternoon sun, listening to Gerek's story. Annice had been pleased that Pjerin had waited until she could hear it as well and understand when it became obvious he hadn't made a conscious decision.
"He was alive," Pjerin had explained as Gerek squirmed out of his arms. "And I was alive. And the beard scared him… Between that and your condition, we didn't have time for anything else."
"Anyway," Gerek continued as both adults returned their attention to him, "I was mad at Stasya the bard 'cause she took my papa away back when it was cold. But Aunty Olina said I couldn't yell at her 'cause I was the due and that's not what dues do." He paused to consider that. "Papa, you yell at people."
"Not at guests."
"Oh." He looked for a moment like he wanted to argue but decided against it and went on. "The bard told me that you weren't dead. That it was a mistake like you said and the king was coming to make it better so I came to find you and Nees and bring you your sword so you could fight the bad guys."