The Legend of Asahiel: Book 03 - The Divine Talisman by Eldon Thompson Page A

best she could, encouraging others to do the same.
    She had chosen the latter; the alternative could grant only desolation and madness. What she hadn’t anticipated, and found much harder to accept, was Allion’s withdrawal from her for doing so. Though he would never say that he blamed her for Torin’s death or her father’s treachery, he had regarded her these past two days as if she were no more than a reminder of his pain. This, more than anything else, had stung her to the core.
    She believed she recognized the actual source of his feelings. Though it was her fault as much as his, and though Torin had shown no animosity upon learning of it, they had in fact formed a forbidden relationship in the king’s absence. Not quite lovers, but near enough. In consequence, Allion was being devoured by guilt, and the more she tried to assuage that guilt, the more sullen and angry he had become—as if her overtures for strength were a temptation he must resist. What she considered moving on, he perceived as callousness toward Torin, her onetime betrothed.
    Nothing could be farther from the truth.
    Hence her decision to let him go forth on this hazardous and potentially foolhardy venture—not because she’d been persuaded by his arguments, but to demonstrate her love and respect for both men. A terrible sacrifice on her part, trusting him to return safely on his own. Whether Allion recognized it or not, he was all she had left. Yet he was no good to her or the kingdom a broken man. Unless he could come to terms with his grief, he might as well be dead.
    The stars blurred as tears came to her eyes, but she gripped the stone balustrade and blinked them away. Though it had pained her to say it, she’d meant what she had said about burying either his guilt or himself along with his friend. For there was still much to be done. They knew not the whole of her father’s Illysp-driven plan, nor quite how to combat it. They could not even be certain of what things he had told them were true, and which werelies. This war was bigger than Allion and Marisha, more important than their personal quest for love and happiness. No matter what became of his feelings for her, the hunter, as a keystone soldier in the conflict to come, could not go around carrying such anchors as he now bore.
    Without quite meaning to, Marisha drew forth the Pendant of Asahiel from where it hid against her breast. Clutching the gleaming heartstone, she lifted her gaze to the heavens and prayed once more for Allion’s safety, asking that this act of laying his friend to rest be enough to heal his wounds and bring him peace—and, should it please the Ceilhigh, that they be given a chance to find the joy they deserved, when the time was right.
    So intense was her yearning that she did not recognize, at first, the knocking upon the door behind her. When it came again, louder and more insistent, her thoughts drew suddenly back into focus. Who could be calling upon her at this hour?
    With her next breath, a chill seeped through her. Allion. Something had happened to him. What else could it be?
    Fighting down a sense of panic, she belted her robe and strode toward the chamber door, tucking the Pendant away. Her only hesitation came at the doorway to her adjacent bedchamber, where she glanced through to see the Sword hanging from one of her bedposts. She started to go for it when the knock sounded yet again, and the voice of her guardsman carried through the oaken portal.
    “My lady?”
    Neglecting the talisman, she moved up against the door to answer. “I’m awakened, Bearer. What is it?”
    “Ah, my lady. Forgive me, but you have a visitor: the young Master Pagus. He claims it cannot wait.”
    Pagus. Allion’s only accomplice in this night’s endeavor. Her heart beat faster.
    “Shall I send him away, my lady?”
    “Let me hear his voice.”
    “It is I, my lady.”
    Taking a deep breath, she removed the bolt and opened the door a crack. Pagus stood just beyond