“This is yours,” she told him. She licked her lips. Reaching out, she put the talisman around his neck. He looked confused, worried, anxious.

“I’m frightened,” he whispered hoarsely.

She shook her head and cupped his cheek. “There is no reason to fear. I know the truth. I know all of it.” With her other hand, she stroked the ragged bark. “Your memories are all here. I’ve already seen them. Even the recent ones. I’ve watched your life.” She tried to breathe, found it difficult even looking into his eyes. She blushed, feeling the weight of the moment. “Let me help you remember.”

A quivering sigh escaped his chest. He nodded mutely, worriedly. With her full Dryad senses, she could tell that they were truly alone. She could sense where Annon walked as if she saw him in her mind. She saw Kiranrao, staggering and falling, running madly through the woods to escape, but there was no escape for him. The defenses of the forest would wall him inside and he did not know the secret of the Dryads any longer. The roots of the oaks ran for leagues and she was tied into them all, connected to the information they shared with her.

Phae leaned forward and whispered to him. “You guarded my tree, so you have earned a boon. I give you my Dryad name. I give it to you freely because I trust the man that you were, even the man you’ve become. My name is Arsinowe.”

As she breathed out the name, she felt magic in the word, magic that began forging a bond to him. She felt it well up inside her, a powerful surge that made her lips begin to tingle and power burn on her tongue. It was a pleasant feeling, a surging tidal feeling. Phae lifted his chin and brought her mouth to his, bestowing a Dryad’s kiss.

There was a rush of power and emotion. She felt herself become a conduit for memories as they poured from the tree, through her, and into him. His mind was unlocked, the hidden recesses filled to overflowing. She pressed the kiss harder, connecting to him, feeling his breath begin to quicken, and then he gasped. Not only did his memories return, but her memories joined with his, her experiences with the Seneschal, her following of his life’s story.

The rush was intense, deeply personal, and they both floated in the magic, clinging to each other as it sped them fast, weaving through sharp turns and rugged eddies. He tasted wonderful, his scent a mixture of sweat and earth, and full of the forest and trees.

It was finished.

Phae pulled back, gazing into his scarred cheeks.

“I love you, Isic,” she whispered, her heart breaking with the words. She smiled at him, a sad smile full of empathy and compassion. “I know your story. I know it better than you knew yourself, for I see the truth that you were blinded to. Your brother’s treachery. Your wife’s sacrifice. She died protecting you.” She swallowed, wondering what she should say. “You were never meant to be together. I think she always knew. But I cannot blame her for loving you. I would have done the same to save you.”

Shion’s eyes were wet with tears. “You were there,” he said in amazement. “You are the one who took my memories. I’ve always felt . . . that I knew you.”

She nodded, wiping a tear from his cheek, as her own flowed unheeded. “We must undo what your brother . . . what Aristaios did. We can end the Plague, you and I. We must end it before it destroys everyone.”

Shion stared at her, his face becoming grave. “The pool of quicksilver is tainted. How can it be cured?”

Kneeling in front of him, she put her hand on his wrist. “Only an Unwearying One can cleanse it. I am immortal, but I am not like you. I am bound for a season and I am bound to a specific tree. I can help draw the fire out of Poisonwell. But only you can cure it. You must drink it, Isic. You must drink all of the Plagues. They won’t kill you, but you will suffer.” She winced, gazing into his eyes. “You must separate the Plague from the well. That is how your brother unleashes it. He drinks from the well and carries it to another land, expelling the disease on the population. Drinking quicksilver would kill a mortal man. But you cannot die.”

He stared at her, his eyes full of wisdom and understanding. “I will do this.”

Phae retrieved the Tay al-Ard from her belt. She kissed his cheek and then offered the device to him.

They gripped the warm cylinder. Their thoughts were as one, picturing the greenish hue of the subterranean lair beneath the mountain.

Shirikant was waiting for them.

“I do not know how it happened. Someone threw open the gates of the Arch-Rike’s palace. Confusion is everywhere. They say the Arch-Rike is hiding in the dungeons. What is true and what is false? No man knows. There is no end to the deceptions.”