Char woke the next morning to the smell of hot food drifting out of the kitchen. Good food. It almost smelled like Mother's cooking. He pushed the blanket back and followed the smell to find Rath sitting at the kitchen table, excitedly shoveling mountains of hot, steaming food into his mouth.

"I didn't know fairies could cook!" he exclaimed, his words garbled by food.

Char rolled his eyes. "Don't talk with your mouth full. They've already got one patient. I don't need them worrying about you, too, when you start choking."

Rath swallowed his mouthful of food. "And they take requests, too. Try telling them to make something. I haven't been able to stump them yet."

Char took a seat, looking over at the fairies flitting around the stove and oven. It was hard to tell exactly how many there were with their quick movements, but he guessed there were only about five.

"Is that why there are fifteen different dishes on the table?" he asked, surveying the spread.

"Don't worry. I'll eat it all," Rath said, and then he stuffed an entire poached egg into his mouth.

Char shook his head. "Don't make any more food. He's just taking advantage of you," he told the fairies.

Not that they seemed to mind. There was a lightness about them, a frivolity as they zipped to and fro. A stack of pancakes and a breakfast casserole joined the rest of the food on the table, and then the fairies hovered around Char and Rath, pushing a plate of this closer, removing an empty plate of that. They were genuinely happy to serve. Char wondered how much of that came from their nature and how much came from gratefulness and relief at being out from under the mage's thumb.

"Okay, maybe I went overboard," Rath finally admitted, leaning back in his chair and patting his stomach. "I am stuffed."

The fairies were already filling his plate again.

"Oh, gosh, no, please, make it stop," he groaned.

Char laughed. "You brought this on yourself. Go get the rest of the team. There's enough for all of them."

"Ugh, that means I have to move," Rath complained.

"No," Char told the fairies, stopping them just before they reached the door. "He can get them himself. You've done enough."

"You're no fun," Rath muttered, but he stood up and waddled to the door.

Char chuckled and pushed his plate away. The fairies pushed it back. "Sorry, I'm full, too," he said. "You guys seem happy this morning."

They twirled together, rising toward the ceiling and scattering across it like fireworks.

"Any idea when she'll wake up?"

One fairy drew a straight horizontal line, back and forth.

Char frowned. "Is that a no?" he guessed.

The same fairy shot straight up and dove back down.

"And that's a nod?"

It repeated the action.

"Okay, I think I've got it. Guess we'll just have to wait."

"Wow, that looks good!" Srot exclaimed, bursting into the kitchen.

"Have at it," Char said, standing up and stepping aside. Thrak wasn't far behind Srot, and the fairies were back at it, happily flitting about the table and filling their plates. Char left them to it and returned to the living room. The pillows and blanket were gone from the sofa, and Kelnor and Rath were sitting there, talking.

"Char, have a seat," Kelnor said, gesturing toward a chair.

"Aren't you going to eat? There's plenty of food," Char told him as he sat down.

Kelnor shook his head. "I already ate. Just got back from the second team making their report, and I think you'll be interested in what they had to say."

"Is this about Iris?"

"Has to be," Kelnor replied. "That's the only way it makes sense. The second team came back early this morning from battle yesterday. They said the mage was throwing out magic like three people, and it was all they could do to dodge his attacks. Most of it was his usual blue, but there was the occasional white magic, too. They were getting ready to call it and retreat when a bolt of white that was headed straight for their leader exploded a few feet shy of him. Then white magic started leaving the blue barriers, traveling up to the spot where the white exploded and vanishing like something was sucking it up. The mage has always been cool and collected, but everybody said he was livid with anger. He sent out a red line that wrapped around the tail end of the white magic, and then the white and red were gone, and all that was left was the mage and his blue, back to where he was in power level when we fought him at that first battle. Still no party, but doable, so the second team moved in and they pulled out a victory. Nobody saw or heard another person, but that had to be Iris' doing."

"That's why she sent you and the fairies away," Rath said to Char. "She knew she'd royally ticked the mage off, and she was trying to get everybody out of the way so he couldn't use anybody against her."

Char nodded. "Makes sense. And the fairies didn't think she could handle him on her own, so they came here to get me."

"I'm guessing she's not up yet?" Kelnor asked.

"No," Char confirmed. "The fairies don't know when she'll wake up, either. The mage said he was punishing her. I'm guessing he'd already extracted all the magic she reclaimed during that battle and then some, because that wasn't on the docket for this morning."

"What was he going to do to her?" Rath asked quietly.

Char shook his head. "You don't want to know."

A heavy silence fell, broken only by the muffled voices of Srot and Thrak in the kitchen.

"Well, let me know when she's awake," Kelnor finally said, standing up and heading for the door.

"Sure thing," Rath called after him.

It was a long day. Srot and Thrak hung around to talk for a little while, and then it was just Char, Rath, and the fairies, waiting. The fairies allowed Char entrance to his room to change and use the bathroom, and Iris was the same as the night before, fast asleep and apparently at ease. That made him feel a little better, anyway. She wasn't suffering anymore. He rejoined Rath in the living room, and they whiled away the hours; talking, reading, playing board games, staring at the ceiling. Rath said something at one point about leaving to tell their mother, and Char told him not to. She would insist on coming over, and there was nothing she could do except sit around and worry. The hours ticked by, and night came again.

"Well, maybe tomorrow," Rath said, heading into his room. "Goodnight, Char."

"Goodnight," Char called back to him. He sighed and headed for his own room to change. The soft golden glow of the fairies on the bed next to Iris was the only source of light. He skimmed over them and Iris and went to his bureau. Maybe tomorrow, he thought, opening a drawer for his pajamas.

"Mm..."

The quiet sound made him freeze in place for a second, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. He spun around, and there was Iris, sitting up in bed. Her face was downcast, and she had her left hand on her forehead as if she had a headache.

"Iris."

She looked up at his soft call. Her brown eyes were dull, her brow slightly furrowed.

"Char?"

He was crossing the floor to her side in an instant. Her voice was rough, but she was awake, and that flooded him with relief. He sat by her side and reached out to brush her hair back from her face. She flinched, and so did he, dropping his hand to the blanket and digging his fingers into the fabric.

"Sorry," she said, dropping her gaze to her lap and her bandaged right hand. "For...everything. I..."

"I know," he interrupted her. "You should have told me, Iris."

She shook her head. "I couldn't." She seemed like she wanted to say more, but she pressed her lips together and shook her head again.

Char sighed. "What happened to your voice?"

Her eyes flicked up to his briefly before dropping back to her lap. "Screaming."

"Iris..."

He stared at her, anger surging through his veins all over again. Her long chestnut brown hair hung around her face like a curtain, hiding her expression, hiding her pain. The fingers of her left hand traced the bandage across her right hand. He couldn't help himself. He wrapped her in a gentle embrace, pressing her head to his chest. She stiffened at first, and then the tears came, shaking her shoulders and soaking his shirt.

"It's okay now. You're safe," he murmured, holding her close.

Her hands came up to clutch at his shirt. He pulled her onto his lap, carefully maneuvering them both to lie down on the bed.

"You're safe, Iris," he repeated.

He wrapped one arm around her waist, pressing her head to his chest with his other hand, kissing her hair and nuzzling into it. She clung to him desperately, her fingers only loosening from his shirt after she cried herself to sleep. He kissed the top of her head again and closed his eyes.

"You're safe."