Looking into Brooke's loving eyes, Becky's intelligent ones, Sheila's trusting gaze, and even Areth's excited ones, I know I can't tell them that I can't live past the final battle. None of them will understand the necessity. I have to die, so that there can be peace.
"Lysa," I say, facing my daughter. I have to swallow the sudden lump in my throat as her mother's eyes regard me. "I can't thank you enough for the gift of these swords." I gesture to the hilts with invisible air blades.
"Oh don't be so formal!" Jennifer yells, and there are a few titters of laughter around the room. I can't help but smile, glad that some of the tension has seeped away.