Corvin held the clock toward her.

“Yours?”

She touched the brass case.

Then nodded.

“It was my mother’s.”

Another stolen thing.

Of course.

Corvin handed it to her.

Elena studied its face.

Seven forty-two.

Then she did something Corvin never expected.

She smiled.

And dropped it into the well.

Mara gasped.

Sena laughed.

Corvin stared into the darkness.

Seconds later—

Splash.

He looked at his mother.

“That clock still worked.”

Elena shrugged.

Corvin burst out laughing.

So did Mara.

Soon Sena joined them.

Their laughter rose into the desert night while riders around distant fires turned curiously toward the sound.

Corvin leaned over the stone rim.

Somewhere beneath them, buried beneath cold clear water, the little clock continued ticking.

Perhaps for another minute.

Perhaps ten.

Then eventually—

silence.

And Corvin realized that for the first time since childhood, he did not know exactly what time it was.

He did not care.

At sunrise the riders prepared to leave.

Corvin assumed his mother and sister would go with them.

He tried not to show how much the thought hurt.

Mara tightened a saddle strap.

“You have an extra room?”

Corvin blinked.

“One.”

“Roof leak?”

“Only when it rains.”

Sena walked past carrying blankets.

“It leaks when there are clouds.”

“Nobody asked you.”

Mara smiled.

“Mama doesn’t want to travel again.”

Corvin looked toward Elena.

She sat beneath the cottonwood drinking coffee.

His voice disappeared.

“You mean—”

“If you’ll have us.”

Corvin cleared his throat.

“Cabin’s small.”

Mara nodded.

“I’m irritating.”

“I remember.”

“Sena eats enough for three people.”

“I heard that,” Sena called.

“You were supposed to.”

Mara crossed her arms.

“So?”

Corvin looked around.

At his mother.

His sister.

His niece.

At the spring that had started everything.

A ladle of water.

That was all.

One human being had been dying.

Another human being had water.

At the time, Corvin had believed the choice meant nothing.

Now three hundred riders had crossed the valley because of it.

His father’s lie had survived thirty-four years.

Yet it had been defeated by something far smaller.

A single act of mercy performed without expecting anything in return.

Corvin nodded toward the cabin.

“Stay.”

Mara’s eyes filled with tears.

Sena smiled.

Elena closed her eyes and tilted her face toward the sun.

The warriors began riding north shortly afterward.

Hundreds passed Corvin’s gate.

Some nodded.

Some simply watched him.

The elderly warrior came last.

He stopped beside Corvin.

For once, Sena was not nearby to translate.

The old man looked toward the well.

Then toward Corvin.

He touched two fingers to his chest.

Corvin did the same.

No translation was necessary.

The elder rode away.

Soon only dust remained.

Corvin stood beside the fence where he had found Sena.

Mara came beside him.

“You know something strange?”

“What?”

“Mama always believed you’d survived.”

“You said she thought I was dead.”

“She believed Father.”

“That’s different.”

Corvin frowned.

“How?”

Mara looked north.