Daughter of Azeroth

79 | SECOND CHANCES

Idira woke, her face tight with dried tears, and her eyes gritty from crying. She sat up and stared at the fading teleport, bleak, a fresh spear of grief lancing through her.

'So,' Khadgar's echo said, rising from one of the chairs and making his way over to the bed, 'it seems I might be of more use to you than just keeping you company, after all.' He held out his hand. She took it and let him pull her up from the bed. He looked her over, arching an eyebrow. He cleared his throat, meaningfully.

She glanced down at herself, realising she stood naked before him. Her dress had been neatly hung over the top of the folding screen. Her heart lurched. Khadgar must have put it there. The man who always dropped his expensive clothing onto the floor into a heap, had taken the time to hang up her old, threadbare dress.

'How long have you been in here?' she asked, dull, as she pulled the dress over her head.

'Long enough,' the echo replied, shrugging.

'You didn't watch us?' Idira asked, momentarily shocked out of her despondency.

'Hmm,' he answered, oblique, looking away. 'I came back after Khadgar left to break his fast, watched you sleep for awhile, waiting for you to wake up, was about to go to the library when he came back with those delicious buns—which I watched you gobble up like a little pig, not even thinking to save me a single one.' He looked so put out, mirroring the look of a petulant child, Idira would have laughed if her heart had not ached so much.

'So you watched us,' she said, flat.

'Hmm,' he said again. He glanced at her. 'You do realise I am his echo? Everything he experiences I experience. I didn't get much sleep last night, thanks to you.'

Idira felt her cheeks begin to flame. She ducked her head, embarrassed. 'I hadn't thought of that. Is there a way to turn it off?'

'Turn it—?' the echo repeated, astonished. 'No, there is no way to 'turn it off', unless you send me back to the Nether.'

'Are you . . . jealous?' Idira asked, catching his gaze moving over the rumpled blankets on the bed, his fists clenching, exactly like Khadgar had done when he had seen her with the echo.

'Who, me?' the echo asked. 'Jealous? Of him? Of course not. No. Not at all.'

'You are,' Idira breathed. 'But you have no . . .'

'Yes, I know it well,' the echo answered, sharp, 'but I can still feel his feelings, know his thoughts. The man is lost to you, would die for you. And now . . . No. Absolutely not, I am not jealous of him. Not knowing what he is going to have face tomorrow.'

His blunt words hit her so hard, she staggered. For just a moment, she had been distracted from her pain. But now, seeing the look of anguish on the echo's face, she felt sick, realising the echo was already experiencing Khadgar's pain, anticipating his fall, having learned the truth from her thoughts.

'What is going to happen to him?' she asked, low.

The echo turned to her. He eyed her, desolate. 'He will not recover. Bitterness will claim him, and he will abandon his duties to use the font, his intention to remain within it, living in the past with you until his body dies of hunger.'

Her legs gave out. She sank onto the floor's cold stone flags. 'What have I done?' she whispered, remorse tearing her apart. 'Oh Light. What have I done?'

The echo lowered his hand to her. 'Get up,' he said, rough. 'You're no use to him moping on the floor.' Bridling a little, she thrust her hand into his.

'I have a plan,' he said as she came to her feet. 'It's not much, but it should keep Khadgar out of the font, give him the will to go on and get him through the worst days to come.' He pulled on her hand, leading her into the corridor. 'That's the good news. The bad news is we're going to have to use the font.'