“I do understand,” Mace whispered, as if he hated to admit it. She wanted justice, and she wanted revenge, and he could not say he blamed her for wanting either. He could not say she was wrong. “We’re all doing what we have to do. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you, living this…like this.” This lie. A voice inside him warned that the desire for vengeance never led to any happiness, that making this her personal mission was foolish and dangerous, but he knew he couldn’t tell her that. He was sure she had heard it before. And no amount of fortune-cookie wisdom was going to temper her need for retribution against her brother.
She’d lost half her family in one night, and believed she’d only find peace when she lost one more.
Which brought them back to the ones already gone. “Maybe,” he offered, forcing a soft smile. Mace wasn’t sure what she meant about Nimueh “taking” Arthur – he couldn’t remember having a conversation with her about death, and what came after. In this moment he realized there were a lot of things they had never discussed. There was so much he wanted to ask her, know about her…would he get the chance, now that this tragedy had forced them apart?
“I miss you too.” His throat was tight with feeling, his voice broke subtly over the words. He let his hand fall back to his side, looked down at it as if he could will it to remember what it felt like to touch her. “How will I reach you? Will you leave a raven for me, squawking over my shoulder?” He smirked, but it was half-hearted humor; he wanted to go to her personally, climb a trellis to her window like something from a book. But he couldn’t do that, and there was nothing she could give them that would cure the prince of his trauma. “You know I’ll do everything I can for Tristan. But ultimately, he can only heal himself.” He has to decide to live for the future, and let go of what is gone. Would he tell him as much? Would it help, if he did?
The truth was, despite the breadth of his experience counseling young men through loss and pain, Mace had no reference point for a situation like this. Tristan had lost so much – his family, his home. The future he had been groomed for his entire life was suddenly perilous. People he trusted had turned on him; maybe he even believed Morgana was one of them.
Death by itself was agony, unbearable….but it was simple, or at least it was simpler than this. Mace could only hope he could help the prince to see there was still so much left to live for.
“Even the worst nightmares end,” he said, suddenly full of conviction. His eyes met hers, sharp and searching. He couldn’t touch her, but at least he could look at her. “If we remember that, we’ll make it through. Just…please don’t lose yourself in all this, Ana.”
Because I don't want to lose you. I can't.
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