The Spellsong War: The Second Book of the Spellsong Cycle (79 page)

“You’re not old,” she said, turning back into the room. “Not in any way.”

He laughed once, and she could tell the laugh hurt, and that hurt her, too. But he was right about one thing. A
handful had listened—Liende, Hanfor, Alvar, Dythya, Secca, Skent . . . and Jecks. Jecks . . . always there.

She stepped up beside his chair and took his hand, glancing back toward the window and the gardens—and the late-afternoon sun. Late afternoon—was that what they had?

She smiled. Better that than twilight. Far better. She squeezed his hand gently. His fingers tightened around hers, just barely, just enough.