“She came to me, when she couldn’t find you. You’re wet,” Riley said to Annika.
“I had a swim. Is something wrong?”
“Not wrong.” Very gently, Bran touched Sasha’s shoulder. “Did you want me?”
“I do. I have. I will. There are secrets here, each holds them. I will keep them, even from myself, until . . . She can’t see them. Though she wonders, and she watches. She watches even now, in the Globe of All.”
“The Globe of All?” Bran repeated, glancing at the cupped hand Sasha held out.
“It is precious to her, but is not hers. What is taken in lies and through bloodshed cannot belong. But it serves her. And we are there.” She cupped one hand above the other. “Caught in the globe for her to see.”
“Then she should see this.” Doyle shot up a middle finger.
“She will come. Your sword is needed. It will take weapons and warriors, but it will take wile and will, faith and fortitude. Unity that only comes through trust and truth. She watches.” She laid a hand on Bran’s heart. “Will you draw the curtain?”
“I can try.”
“There is no try, only do. Sorry,” Sawyer said immediately.
“Yoda’s never wrong.” Riley patted his shoulder. “Where should we look, Sasha?”
“Where no one has. She watches, but it waits. Its fire cold under the blue light, it waits, the first of three in the willing heart. She cannot see, and would drain me to sharpen her sight.”
“She won’t.” Bran clasped her hand in his. “I swear it.”
“She destroys what loves because she does not. And when she comes, death marches with her.”
“When and where?” Doyle demanded. “Can you see that?”
“I . . .” On a choked gasp, Sasha clamped her head in her hands. “She claws at me. Inside my head. She tears and bites. Draw the curtain. Oh, God, draw the curtain.”
“Wake up.” Bran gripped her arms, shook her. “Sasha, wake up.”
“Locked in. She locks me in.”
“No, you have the key.” He pulled her to her toes so her eyes were level with his. “You are the key.” He kissed her, not gently. “Use what you are.” He kissed her again, and light snapped around them. “Wake up!”
She sucked in air like a swimmer surfacing from deep water. When her bones melted, Bran scooped her up, then sat cradling her.
“You’re all right.”
“My head.”
“You came out too fast, and you will fight it. Just breathe through it. Annika, would you get her some water?”
“What happened? Why—” She broke off when she realized she sat on Bran’s lap, outside, and in nothing but a night slip. “Oh, God. Again?”
When she tugged the slip down her thighs, Riley let out a bark of laughter that sounded like relief. “Relax, you’re covered. If I’d been the one wandering around dream-walking, I’d be standing here naked. I’ve got plenty of aspirin, and a couple Percocet I hold back for emergencies.”
“I can see to it. Breathe,” Bran repeated. “And relax.” He laid his hands on her head, stroked, ran his fingers through her hair, took them over her forehead, back, over her scalp to the back of her neck.
“Put it in my hands,” he murmured as Annika rushed back with a glass of water. “It’s only pain. I can ease it if you put it into my hands.”
“I remember.”
“Good. Remembering means you’re not fighting it. The less you fight it, the less of an opening you give her.”
“The Globe of All.” She sipped the water. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. But,” Riley vowed, “I’ll find out.”
“She had it, in the cave. In her hand. Did you see it?”
“A glass ball,” Sawyer said. “I didn’t get a good look—a little busy—but there was movement in it. You said it wasn’t hers.”
“I don’t know whose it was, I’m sorry.”
“I’ll find out,” Riley assured her. “It’s what I do. Now what’s this about a curtain?”
“What happens when you draw a curtain?” Bran continued to rub Sasha’s head. “You block or hide things. I’ll work on that. Draw curtains, you could say, around us, so we’re not as exposed to her.”
“It’s better now. Thanks.” When she tried to get up, Bran simply held her in place.
“You’re fine where you are.”
“I can’t add more to any of this, at least not right now. I don’t understand half of what I said, and I’m too tired to think. I need to sleep.”