39

I was submerged, drowning, already at death’s door. But Helory found me.

“What are you doing!?” she had screamed at me. “Have you gone mad!? I have no idea what you are going through, but how dare you try to kill yourself!? You have no right! None!”

She was crying, pounding her fists against my back even as she hugged me tight to her. “How could you do that when there are people out here who care about you and what happens to you!?”

I was crying too, even as my whole body was numb from the cold, my teeth clattering so hard I thought they might fall off.

“Leave me alone,” I had cried. "Let me die!"

“Never!” she had shot back at me. “I care, Baevera. I fucking care. Do you hear me!?”

That night, at the healer’s abode, I finally opened up and told her about my past. Not what had happened to me—no, that was not the tale for that day—but about Revandrel and his mother. Well, most of it.

I had expected judgment and condemnation. I had expected her to look at me and say what I already know,