Epilogue
Irinanda was still asleep when Konrad returned to the house-on-stilts high among the trees. He swung himself up through the trapdoor with slow care, unwilling to disturb her. She didn’t wake as he moved about the room, cleaning the blood from his hands and replacing his blood-spattered clothes.
But when he moved to the bedside and stood looking down at her sleeping face, she woke almost immediately. Her pale eyes opened slowly and she stared up at him, her face white and drawn within the tangled nest of her white-blonde hair.
‘Are you well?’ he asked after a moment. She looked healthier than she had when he left; she was at least lucid, and her breathing was regular. But she remained so white and weak.
‘I should be dead,’ she said flatly. ‘Or worse.’ She moved to sit up, but h
