He kept trying to move his arm. Or his hand, or a finger. Not on purpose. Just instinct. And sometimes on purpose.

But there was no arm or hand there. Not on his right side.

Meleng had never really thought about how many things he used his arms and hands for. It was kind of ridiculous. There were the obvious things, liking touching or picking things up, but there were so many other things as well, not to mention the things that didn’t necessarily require an arm or hand, but he still regularly used one for, like gestures when he was talking. Even shifting position in the bed was an entirely new experience that he was going to have to develop new habits for.

He was supposed to be learning to be a better enchanter, not relearning basic life skills. Typical. He wasn’t even left with his dominant hand, so he was going to have to relearn how to write before he could continue improving his spells.

And gods, how was supposed to speak to Feviona now? Her sign language didn’t usually require two hands, but he frequently needed to do other things while talking to her. Indeed, she encouraged him to write equations while talking to her. She said it helped him multitask. How was he supposed to do that now?

For the first time, he wished the world around him wasn’t real, that he would finally close his eyes and open them again to find a discrepancy. He would discover this was all an illusion, and he was still in Isyaria, a prisoner of Nascanmat. His greatest fear: now his greatest wish.

But every time he closed his eyes and opened them again, everything was still the same. The bedsheets and the canopy above were in the same place and still the same colour. The chandelier above still had the same number of candles: forty-eight. He’d counted them dozens of times now. Jorvan still sat to his left, head raised in meditation. Sini still sat on the bed on his right side, her eyes still the same pale blue, her hair still in a bun that was starting to unravel from all the leaning against him and hugging she’d done. Maybe the tear streaks on her face would be slightly different, but that was just due to the movement of her tears, and not an inconsistency at all.

This was real.

This was all too real.

“You keep doing that,” Sini said.

“Hmm?” He didn’t look at her.

“That thing where you close your eyes to find out if everything’s real or not. You keep doing it.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I understand. I kind of wish this wasn’t real too. Then you could have your arm back. I want you to have your arm back.”

“Hmm.”

“Look at me?”

He looked at her. He hadn’t wanted her to see him like this. He’d wanted Feviona to take him back to the Hall of Knowledge. Let him recover there. Agernon could tend to him. But Feviona hadn’t asked him. She’d just brought him straight here. It made sense, he supposed. Sini had to see him eventually, as much as he didn’t want her to.

Why didn’t he want her to?

Embarrassment maybe.

But looking at her did bring a kind of joy. He was still in pain, still angry, still upset. Still embarrassed. But it was a comfort to see her face, tear-streaked though it was. It made him sad to see her sad, but at the same time, a tiny part of him took joy from just seeing her.

She offered him a comforting smile, and he almost burst into tears. Silly of him. He tried to look away so she wouldn’t know, but she reached out and touched his cheek. Gently turned it back to look at her. With her other arm, she wiped away the tears streaming down her face. Then she threw her arms around him, her weight pushing him onto his back. She held him and sobbed.

He put his arms around her as well, and… No, damn it. He didn’t do that. One went round her. The other—the one that wasn’t there, yet still ached—stubbornly refused to reappear and do anything. He couldn’t hold her as tightly as he wanted, but he did what he could, and sobbed with her.

He gasped as Sinitïa pressed against the stump of his arm.

She shrieked and pulled away from him. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay,” he said. “It just...startled me.”

With a sniffle, she shook her head. “No, it hurt. Of course it hurt. Don’t lie to me.”

“I didn’t lie. I really was startled, though I guess it hurt too.”

She nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Like I said, it’s okay.”

“No, I mean I’m sorry for snapping at you. I shouldn’t have said you were lying. I don’t know why I did that.”

“It’s okay. You’re hurting too. In a different way, but still hurting.”

“I love you,” she said.

He smiled at her as best he could. Usually, hearing those words would brighten up any situation, but they didn’t this time. This time, they almost made him feel worse. Sini didn’t deserve this life. She didn’t deserve the physical injuries she had endured, and she especially didn’t deserve the pain of seeing her loved ones hurt and killed. Not for the first time, he mourned her loss of innocence, the loss of the young, naïve woman he’d first met on the trip to Scovese. They’d argued about this before, and he had done his best not to think that way. After all, if she hadn’t come with him to Isyaria, she would have died with the rest of her family in Arnor City.

But maybe the best option was that this was all an illusion. They hadn’t gotten together until after he was freed. Sure, he’d had feelings for her before that, even if he hadn’t recognised them, and her for him, but maybe if this was an illusion, when he woke up for real, they would not acknowledge their feelings and then she’d be spared at least some of this pain.

But that was silly. She’d still feel something.

“I’m here for you, you know?” Sini was looking him in the eyes, her own eyes glistening with tears “I’m always here for you.”

“I know. I guess I just need time.”

She nodded, a tear dripping from her right eye and then her left. “And I’ll help you. Anything you need done, I’ll do it. I can pick things up for you, hold them. I can help you write and...what else do you need arms for?”

“Thank you.”

“And Jorvan and Feviona will help too, right, Jorvan?”

Jorvan lowered his head slowly and smiled meekly at Sini. “When I can, of course, but it seems I may not be adequate.”

“What do you mean?” Sini asked.

“I simply may not be up to the task. Meleng was hurt despite my best efforts.”

Sinitïa’s eyes narrowed and she glared at Jorvan. “Are you blaming yourself? Because it’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is.”

Meleng shook his head. “No. No, of course it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is. More accurately, Fevionawishtensen and I share the blame. She brought you there into a dangerous situation. I know it is tradition for the Hgar to bring their older, more experienced siaree with them on missions, but…” Jorvan’s voice cracked and he looked away momentarily. “But she is off dealing with her guilt in her way, and I must deal with mine my way. I was too slow. I was distracted by the water demon. I did not reach you fast enough. I should have been faster.”

Sinitïa jumped off the bed. “That’s stupid! You did your best. It’s not your fault. It’s the fucking Tall Man’s! And those fucking demon things. Excuse my language, but it’s not your fault. You did your best. I know you did, and that’s all that matters. You…” She trailed off.

Jorvan had lowered his head into his hands, and was sobbing. “I am so sorry.” He began to wail.

Meleng used his left arm to shift closer to Jorvan, but by the time he did that, Sini had run around the bed and thrown her arms around Jorvan. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just want you to know it’s not your fault. Melly, tell him it’s not his fault.”

“It’s not your fault, Jorvan.” He almost went into a spiel about how he knew the risks, and they all took risks, but he was sure Jorvan already knew all that. Just sometimes, feelings overrode reason and logic. He certainly knew that all too well.

Sini kissed Jorvan on the forehead and held him tightly while he got his sobbing under control.

After a while, Jorvan looked up. He kissed Sini on the cheek, and smiled meekly at both her and Meleng. “Thank you. I know it is not my fault in the sense that I did not harm Meleng myself, but I must deal with my guilt over failing to help him in time.”

Sini nodded sadly. “I understand. Sort of. Not really, but it’s okay.” She stood up and made her way back around the bed. “We shouldn’t be angry at each other, and that’s my fault. I’m sorry.” She climbed on the bed and lay beside Meleng. “Let’s just cuddle for a while.”

Meleng awkwardly rolled over to face her. Pain shot from the stump of his arm, all the way down to his non-existent hand. He smiled at her through gritted teeth. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d kind of like to get some sleep.” He wasn’t actually all that tired, but he knew it was what he would be recommending to someone else in his position.

Sini frowned. “Oh, okay. I can sleep beside you if you want.”

He smiled back at her. “Normally, I’d love that, but…”

Her frown deepened.

“It’s just there have been so many people through here and I just need a little…” Everyone had been to check on him. Akna, Felitïa, Zandrue, Corvinian, Lady Belone, her mother, uncle, and people he vaguely recalled seeing once or twice but could not remember the names of.

Sini nodded sadly. “You know it’s my bed you’re kicking me out of.”

“Oh right. Sorry, I…”

She smiled at him. “It’s okay. I’m just kidding around. There are some things I should do anyway, but if you need me, just send for me, okay?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

She took hold of his face and kissed him.

He tried to lose himself in the sensation, as often happened without him trying, but this time was more difficult. It was still pleasant, and it still gave him a little thrill as it always did, but he couldn’t quite lose himself in it.

Oh well. He was so lucky to have her, whatever he was feeling or not feeling at the moment. He didn’t really want this to be an illusion. Maybe the lost arm part, but nothing else. She made life worth living.

Eventually, the kiss ended and she slid away from him and stood up.

“I love you,” Meleng said.

She smiled. “I love you, too.” She turned for the door. “Love you too, Jorvan. Olla! I need you to fix my hair and make-up and fetch my sword.” The door closed behind her.

Jorvan stood up. “I will leave you be as well.”

“Thank you.” As Jorvan reached the door, Meleng called out, “And Jorvan, I really don’t blame you.”

Jorvan looked back with a sad smile. “I know. Pleasant thoughts, dearest fomaze.”

“Pleasant thoughts to you as well.”

When Jorvan was gone, Meleng lay back and stared at the ceiling. Without meaning to, he started counting the candles on the chandelier again, but he stopped himself after only a few. The number wasn’t going to change, and he didn’t want it to change either.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It was very bright in here. Not from the chandelier—the candles were unlit—but the late day sun was shining brightly through the window. He should have asked Sini or Jorvan to draw the curtains on their way out. Could he call for Sini’s handmaid? No, she was working on Sini right now.

Oh well. He’d have to put up with it.

His missing hand was itching. That was a weird sensation. He had heard that people who had lost limbs sometimes experienced phantom sensations, but he wasn’t prepared for the sensation to be more intense than the actual pain from the stump.

He stared at the ceiling some more and hoped sleep would eventually come.

It was only when he finally started to doze off that it occurred to him to wonder why Sini had asked for her sword.