“Moria,” he said again now, reaching for Ashyn’s hand, fumbling to find it, as if his vision was as fuzzy as his mind.
“I’m here,” she said, and clasped his fingers in hers.
She sat beside him and held his hand. He never noticed that she didn’t act or sound like Moria. She looked like her, and that was enough. His eyes fluttered open and closed as he murmured things she couldn’t make out, fevered mumblings, clasping her hand so hard it almost hurt. Then he drifted off again. She waited until his grip relaxed and slid free.
“He loves her, doesn’t he,” Guin said.
Ashyn looked at her.
“The prince,” she said. “He loves your sister.”
Now it was Ashyn mumbling something unintelligible. A few days ago, she’d have said only that Tyrus cared for Moria and she for him. Now…? Was it love? Perhaps, but it seemed an invasion of Tyrus’s privacy to speculate, especially with Guin.
“It’s very romantic,” Guin said. “I hope they don’t die.”
Ronan turned on Guin. “If you don’t stop that, I swear I’ll send you back to the spirit world. Moria is Ashyn’s sister. Tyrus is our friend. We care about them. We do not want them to die.” He turned to Ashyn and muttered, “I can’t believe I needed to explain that.”
“I don’t want them to die either,” Guin said. “That’s what I said.”
“How about you don’t mention the possibility of their deaths at all.”
“But it is a possibility. A very real one. I’m only —”
“Stop. No one needs the reminder.”
Guin looked confused, and as much as Ashyn agreed with Ronan, she said, “I’m glad you don’t want them to die, Guin. That’s… kind of you.”
“Thank you. I know people think romantic stories are better if the lovers die, but I can assure you, there is nothing romantic about death. I would rather see them live. The dashing bastard prince and the brave and beautiful Keeper.” She pursed her lips. “Perhaps not beautiful. Quite pretty, though, for a Northerner.” She glanced at Ashyn and said, “And, of course, you’re pretty, too,” in a halfhearted way, as if she was not Moria’s identical twin. Guin turned to Ronan. “Do you think I am?”
“What?”
“Do you think I’m pretty?”
“It’s not a question I’ve spent a single moment contemplating.”
Guin rolled her eyes. “I’m not asking if you’re attracted to me. That would be very awkward. I’d need to remind you that you’re a lowborn boy, and that I could never return your attentions.”
“Goddess be praised,” Ronan muttered.
Guin turned to Ashyn. “Do you find the body I’m inhabiting pleasing?”
Ashyn stared at her as Ronan choked on a laugh.
“I don’t believe I understand the question,” Ashyn said slowly.
“I’m asking if I’ve chosen an attractive form. I had to act quickly when the vessel was free, and I did not have time to properly assess it. I do not recall any obvious deformities, and from what I’ve seen when I disrobe —”
Ronan coughed. “We do not require details. If you’re asking if the girl you inhabit was pretty, she’s…” He glanced at Ashyn for help.
“Yes, she is pleasant in appearance,” Ashyn said. “However, right now, it is more important that she is strong and healthy, so that she may survive this ordeal.”
“Certainly, but I intend to survive, and after that, beauty will stand me in far greater stead than strength or health. I was twenty summers when I passed, and not yet wed. Nor had I any suitors. My mother blamed my face and form. I was not an attractive girl, and too thin by far. That was why no man had chosen me.”
“Not necessarily,” Ronan muttered again.
Guin settled on the floor and crossed her legs. “In my village, I saw many girls who were as dull as a hoe and as stupid as a cow, all wed by their fourteenth summer, so long as they were fair of face.”
“Fourteenth summer?” Ashyn said. “When did you live?”
Guin shrugged. “It was a very long time ago. But I learned the value of beauty, and if I have been given a second chance at life, I’m relieved that I’ve overcome that obstacle. This time, I will wed, and wed well, and I will grow fat and old, surrounded by every luxury.” She looked at Ashyn. “That’s the advantage women have. To improve their station, they need only stay charming and beautiful long enough to catch a good husband. It’s much harder for men. To better themselves, they must work at it their entire lives. I’m glad I’m a woman.”
Ashyn looked at Ronan.
“Best not to comment,” he said.
She turned to Guin. “I believe you may find times have changed somewhat.”
“I still need to be beautiful to wed. That never changes.”
“Well, if I may be so bold, I’ve always found that one of the keys to beauty is frequent bathing. The longer one goes between washings, the more the dirt and grime become engrained in one’s skin, until it is quite impossible to remove. The best water of all is fresh from the source.” She handed Guin the bucket. “Do you know where the spring is?”
“A goodly walk from here.”
“Yes, but you need not hurry. I have enough water to last until sundown. And the longer your bath, the more your skin and hair will shine.”