He saw the fingers of that hand, dark against her cheek. Dark....
His own fingers. His own hand.
He was not on the ledge. He was back in the coral crypt beneath the palace. The light that had dazzled his eyes was not the sun, but only the flare of torches.
He sat up, his heart pounding wildly.
Kynon of Shun lay beside him on the coral. He was quite dead, his head encircled by a crown of fire, his side open to the white bone where Delgaun's blade had struck.
The wound that Kynon himself had never felt.
The golden coffer was open. The second crown lay near Fianna, with the rod beside it.
Stark looked at her, deep into her eyes. Very softly he said, "I would not have dreamed it."
"You will understand, now—many things," she said. "And I was glad of my power today, because I could truly give you life!"
She rose, and he saw that she was very tired. Her voice was dull, as though it counted over old things that no longer mattered.