Jo’s eyes opened at the sound of Emma’s voice. But she knew instantly that Jo’s hurts were not confined to physical injuries. His eyes stared vacantly, and Emma knew he either didn’t see her or couldn’t process her presence. Gently, she laid a hand on his shoulder.

At Emma’s touch, Jo began thrashing, as though trying to escape being held. He cried out, but his voice slurred and she could recognize no words. After a moment he seemed to realize that he was no longer being touched, and curled into a shivering ball. The sight added to Emma’s anguish, and she whirled on Garten.

“What have you done to him?!”

Garten smiled in sadistic amusement. “Oh, nothing the young fool didn’t richly deserve. Imagine, trying to murder a Preylord? Frankly, I’m surprised Solus didn’t tear him apart. But then again, that would actually have been merciful.

“My colleague Captain Vitton has had the greatest hand in your young friend’s…care. He does enjoy punishing Causer fools, and has certainly enjoyed himself with this one. Of course, when the buck refused to crack under mere pain, we turned to other methods. Though between one herbal concoction and another meant to loosen his tongue over all these months, I’d be surprised if your friend remembers his own name.”

“You are a monster!”

“I am a pragmatist, Princess Emma. Your…Jo, was it?…has learned the harsh lessons of defying destiny. And now he can serve as an object lesson for you on that same topic. If nothing else, he may find your company preferable to Captain Vitton’s…though you may not find him particularly companionable.”

Ending on that note, Garten strode away from the cell.

For a long moment, Emma stared after him, hardly able to comprehend such callous cruelty. Then she turned back to Jo, and her disgust was replaced by deep pity. Mixed in with it were a strange blend of feelings. She felt reminded of the story she had been told about Mrs. Weaver and her husband, Edward.

The older doe had apparently spoken to the Cloud Mountain Citadel Congress on the subject. Emma, who had been in the hospital-attending to Jo, as it happened-had missed the speech. But Heather had shared the details, and Emma’s heart had grieved. She could hardly imagine what the rabbit she had so often called Maggie O’Sage had endured.

Unfortunately, she got a sense of it not long afterwards, after Solus seized Jo. She fervently believed that her new friend had been killed. But a part of her had longed to hear otherwise, even as another reproached herself. Quite apart from the unrealistic nature of the thought, how could she wish someone to live in such bondage.

Yet here was Jo, alive in spite of Emma’s fears. But even as she took what comfort she could from that, she mourned his pitiable condition. Finally, her doctors training took over. Now that it turned out Jo was alive, Emma was determined to keep him that way.

Some time later, a doe brought food and water for the two prisoners. Emma thanked her quietly, receiving a furtive nod as the other rabbit retreated. Wetting a rag, Emma gently returned to Jo’s side. Lacking any other methods, she spoke gently to the delirious buck for some time. Then, gently, she began to clean his wounds.

Her soothing tone worked, and Jo did not panic as he had before. Though he occasionally flinched, moaned, or whimpered as she attended to an injury, he began to show signs of easing tension. When Emma had done all she could on that front, she fed him some water. Under her ministration, Jo finally slipped into sleep.

Despite their circumstances, Emma managed to smile as she watched him. Though thinner, Jo’s face looked much as it had during the time she had watched over him in the hospital at Cloud Mountain. Emma had thought back on those times often since Jo had been lost. Even as she had wept to think that she would never again enjoy his humor or his kindness, she had let the thought of his dedication renew her own commitment to the Cause.

And now here was Jo, alive again. Horribly scarred in both body and mind, yes, but alive. And a prisoner. Which meant that in spite of all he had endured…he hadn’t broken. He hadn’t given in.

With that comforting thought, Emma settled down to sleep.

It was hours later when a noise woke Emma. Opening her eyes, she looked across at Jo. He was groaning and tossing fitfully. But his movements seemed more natural, the noises more like those of an ordinary sleeper coming awake. As Emma cautiously knelt by Jo’s side, his eyelids fluttered.

Jo’s eyes, looking now bleary but not vacant, opened. To Emma’s relief, his sleep and her care seemed to have helped him work through the effects of whatever drugs he had been force fed. Jo stared blankly, then seemed to register her presence. His eyes landed on her, and went suddenly wide.

“…Emma?”

The recognition in his voice made her heart lift. Obviously doubting his eyes, Jo lifted his arm. Perhaps he meant to take her hand, or even touch her cheek. Emma would have welcomed either gladly.

But whatever Jo’s intent, he found himself looking at the stump of a wrist with no hand attached to it.

Pain seared Emma’s heart as she looked at the expression on Jo’s face. He regarded his shortened limb blankly for a moment. Shock gave way to recognition, and possibly to recollection. Tears pooled in Jo’s eyes as he once again focused on Emma.

“You must forgive me, Doctor,” he managed, obviously struggling to keep his voice even. In spite of his tears, he managed a smile. For just a moment, the old Jo shone through. “But I seem to have misplaced my hand.”

Looking back later, Emma could not remember moving, or even deciding to move. All she knew was that suddenly her arms were around Jo, pulling him into an embrace. For long minutes after that they cried together. At last, Emma pulled back and helped Jo, who was trembling from weakness now rather than sobs, into a sitting position.

“My hand…always gets me like that,” Jo said, wiping at his tears as Emma brought him some water. He managed a long drink, then settled back against the wall. “I guess it’s to be expected. Life has been a constant swirl between waking nightmares and fevered dreams for so long I forget which horrors are real.”

“Oh, Jo…”

He smiled again, this time without tears. “It’s good to see you again, Emma. More than good. Even if it’s not the setting I would have chosen.”

Smiling back, Emma shrugged. “Given the choice myself, neither of us would be here either. But we both ended up here because of our hope in the Mended Wood. And it’s good to see you too, Jo…in spite of everything.”

For a time they sat quietly, simply enjoying one another’s presence. Then Jo frowned and regarded Emma curiously. “If you don’t mind me asking, Emma…what are you doing here? I know what I did-tried to shoot a Preylord-but how did you end up in this situation?”

“A bird picked me up from Cloud Mountain,” Emma replied. “Morbin’s forces attacked, and the Forest Guard and Halfwind forces barely managed to force them back. Jo, there’s so much to catch you up on. Have you had any news here?”

When he shook his head, Emma recounted what had occurred since they had last been together. She brought their food over and they ate, though Emma did a lot of talking. Jo, for his part, listened attentively, though he also made the occasional comment. He seemed particularly intrigued, if somewhat saddened, by her reports on the Fowlers.

Emma chose not to disclose one thing, however: the recent revelation that she was the daughter of King Jupiter. It wasn’t necessarily that she didn’t want Jo to know. But he was already learning of so many things that had transpired during his captivity, developments that clearly shook him. Emma knew she couldn’t spare him that burden, but if she could make it even somewhat easier by drawing things out, she wanted to.

Indeed, Emma’s own heart was eased to once again speak to someone as though she weren’t a princess. Others of her friends, including the Longtreaders, had ceased to treat her the way they used to. It had begun, she guessed, when they learned the truth about her-even before she had known it herself. It had been easy to blame on the aftermath of the attack on Halfwind and Bleston’s occupation.

This made it easy for Emma to pass over the news of Bleston’s betrayal and death as swiftly and lightly as possible. However, she spoke fully and honestly of her grief for Lord Rake. Jo, who knew well the pain of losing a father, said nothing. He just reached out with his one remaining hand and took one of hers.

To be continued…