“Breathe,” I whispered to Jase. “He’s not an assassin anymore.” But I was nervous too. I hadn’t seen Kaden in over two years. I felt like a young pledge awaiting inspection.
Kaden swung down from his horse, then helped Pauline down from hers. Their three children rode in a wagon behind them. Griz lifted them down, holding the eldest, Rhys, upside down, pretending he couldn’t tell his head from his feet in spite of Rhys’s protests.
Lydia and Nash squealed with delight but didn’t break ranks. The entire Ballenger clan stood in a line, ready to greet the Keep of Venda, his family, and the rest of the caravan that was still arriving.
Kaden walked over, looking taller and more imposing than I remembered, or maybe it was just the stern expression on his face. He glanced at me and then Jase. “So, you’re the troublemaker who stole her from us.”
“I knew I couldn’t trust that fellow the moment I laid eyes on him,” Griz added as he stepped up beside Kaden. The two of them began exchanging banter about Jase like he wasn’t there.
“It’s those shifty eyes.”
Griz clucked his tongue. “She should have arrested him the first time she saw him.”
“Looks to me like she did. He’s—”
Pauline jabbed Kaden in the ribs with her elbow.
Kaden winced. “Just having a little fun.” A warm smile filled his eyes, and no one’s eyes smiled quite like the Keep’s. Anything good in his life he had fought and scratched for, and his joy came from a deep place of understanding the lack of it. He reached out and shook Jase’s hand. “Congratulations, Patrei.” He ushered his children forward, Rhys, Cataryn, and Kit, all of them towheads like Kaden, and he told them to pay their
respects to the Patrei of the newest nation, Tor’s Watch. He and Pauline both glowed with pride as the children stepped forward. It was clear they had practiced this moment. Jase knelt, shaking each of their small hands, accepting their well wishes, and whispering to them that treats awaited them at the end of the line. The Patrei was instantly a favorite with them.
Then the Keep raised his hand to me, a greeting from soldier to soldier. I clapped my hand into his and he squeezed it. “Good job, kadravé. You make us proud. Or maybe I should call you ambassador now?”
“Forever a Rahtan,” I answered. “I am still your comrade. I always will be.”
Pauline stepped up next and threw her arms around me, her grip fierce. “I’ve missed my best student.”
A warm tug pulled inside me. I had missed her too, cherishing her stubbornness like I never had before—and all the times she wouldn’t let me give up when the scribbles on the page frustrated me to distraction. “I thought Wren was your best student.”
She laughed. “You all were.”
“Thank you, Pauline,” I said. “I’m not sure I ever said it. In fact, I’m sure I was horrible most of the time, but I write every day now and actually love it.”
“That is all the thanks I need.” She kissed my cheek and followed Kaden down the line. I heard all the Ballengers offering their welcomes and gratitude. I heard the wonder in their voices. So much had been lost, but today so much was regained.
“Well, look who’s here,” Jase said, nudging me. “My cooks have arrived.”
It was Eben and Natiya.
Natiya swaggered up, Eben just behind her. Her dark eyes danced as she looked at both of us. “Married,” she said, shaking her head.
“Twice married,” Jase replied. “Ballenger and Vendan wedding. There’s no undoing it now.”
“Oh, there’s ways,” Eben said, his black eyes full of mischief.
“So, what’s on the menu tonight?” Natiya asked, patting her stomach. Jase laughed. “Eating for two again?”
She and Eben exchanged a glance and then I noticed that her waist had grown wider. She looked back at me and Jase. “Actually…”
“Really?” I asked. “Really,” Eben confirmed.
We hugged and congratulated them and then Natiya gave us a small package that held sage cakes, saying now we could have an official Vagabond wedding too. As soon as I opened the package and the pungent aroma escaped, Natiya clapped her hand over her mouth and scurried away. Eben explained she was still having some nausea and hurried after her.
“At least we don’t have to share,” Jase mused as he took a big bite of the cake.
A sudden hush descended on the camp and we turned. The Queen of Venda and the King of Dalbreck had arrived. We watched them dismount from their horses. Vairlyn cleared her throat. So did Gunner and Priya. It sounded like they were all choking on something, or maybe trying to hold something back. The emotion of the moment swelled in me too. This day was wrapped up in so much history, both old and recent.
Make her come.
Jase had told me his father’s last wishes, for Tor’s Watch to be recognized by the most powerful queen on the continent. And now she was here, on Tor’s Watch soil—here not just to break ground on an expanding settlement but to have Jase sign the final papers that would make Tor’s Watch an official new kingdom.
“Kazimyrah,” the queen said, hugging me first. If the Keep’s smiles were singular, so were the queen’s hugs. You felt them all the way into your bones. She raised a discerning brow and nodded toward Jase. “You keeping him in line?”
“She absolutely is, Your Majesty. She’s a brutal taskmaster,” Jase answered, catching on that this was not going to be a formal occasion but more like a family affair.
“Good!” she answered and gave him a warm hug too before greeting the rest of the family and pulling presents from her pockets for Lydia and Nash, small wooden flutes carved by artisans in Venda.
King Jaxon carried a sleeping Aster on his shoulder, the toddler’s legs and arms dangling loosely in a deep sleep. He spoke quietly so as not to wake his daughter, telling Jase that no kingdom had opposed Tor’s Watch admission into the Alliance, with the exception of Eislandia, which hadn’t weighed in at all because there was still no ruler to succeed Montegue. It was being managed by custodians until a new one was chosen. He whispered his congratulations too, and shook Jase’s hand.
Kerry ran up, eager to meet the king, and Jase introduced him. “This is Kerry of Fogswallow. He’s good at cracking kneecaps. Maybe there’s a place for him in your army?”
“We always need some good knee-crackers,” King Jaxon agreed.
Jase pulled Kerry close to his side. “He’s also the young man who helped save my life. Without him, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Honored to meet you, Kerry of Fogswallow,” the king said, shaking his hand. “Keep the Dalbreck army in mind.”
Kerry nodded, staring at the king in awe.
When all the greetings were finished, the papers were signed and cheers erupted. The sound echoed through the valley, pure and holy and joyous, almost like music in a temple. The repeating refrain hummed in my veins, and the look in Jase’s eyes, the way he swallowed and nodded, taking it all in, melted something deep inside me. It was a moment I would never forget. The cheers were followed by laughter, tears, prayers, and countless embraces, and then we all spread out, welcoming the new settlers.
Caemus smiled as they jumped out of wagons and turned in circles, soaking in the beauty of their new home. Their faces were filled with as much wonder as his had been when he first arrived in the valley. The queen was given a tour of the settlement and the fields that continued to be bountiful. Children of the newcomers swarmed the giant oak tree in the center, taking turns on the swing.
These last months swept past me, the lowest lows, the highest highs, and the hope that had kept me going, the hope that was crushed, but rose up again and again, the hope of Lydia, Nash, Jase, the hope of a vault full of people, the hope that so often only hung on by a tenuous thread.
“Mistress Brightmist! What a wondrous day, is it not?”
It was Mustafier, the merchant from the arena. He had brought gifts and clothing for the newcomers and had volunteered to help with the details of getting them settled.
“Yes, Mustafier, exquisitely splendiferous,” I agreed.
He cackled, happy that I remembered his flowery words.
“So, have you crafted a riddle to commemorate this stupendous day?” His long thick brows twitched, eager.
I smiled, listening to the sounds of beginnings, of saws cutting wood, of hammers pounding nails, of imaginations blooming.
“I think I might,” I answered.
I eased down on a pile of lumber and watched the busyness of the camp, excitement pattering through it like a welcome summer shower. Mustafier waited patiently. “How about this one?” I asked and began.
“My heart is undying, my wings spread wide, When I’m set free,
I soar, I glide.
I tame tomorrows, I offer shade,
I make the fearful, Unafraid.
I’m a rope with no end, A sword and a shield, No army can match, The power I wield.
On occasion I’m lost, Or tossed in the fight, Downtrodden, beat, My hands bound tight.
But a shout, a stand,
A smile, a jest, A meal, a drink,
A good night’s rest,
A swing on a tree,
an orange, a kind deed. How little it takes,
for me to be freed.”
The wordy merchant was unexpectedly quiet. He looked out at the busy camp with me, watching the children playing, watching Jase eagerly talking with settlers, and he wiped his eye. “Splendiferous,” he finally whispered.
 |
Jase left to stake out the new homes with Caemus and Leanndra, the representative of the settlers. He was eager and animated. He had great plans for this expansion. Besides building ten more homes, he had sent enough lumber for two more barns, a work shed, a mill, and a large schoolhouse.
In the first months after all the destruction, funds had been tight for the Ballengers, but the settlers had rolled up their sleeves and pitched in. They’d had a bountiful harvest and cooked and served food for all the workers Jase had hired to help rebuild the town. All the Ballengers were grateful to them. But during Jase’s weeks in the root cellar as the settlers nursed him back from the brink of death, his bonds with them had deepened in a whole new way. They were family. He wore a tether of bones at his side now, just like they did. Meunter ijotande. Never forgotten. This settlement was in his blood now, and he had a passion to see it thrive.
I sighed as Jase disappeared from view behind a knoll. We hadn’t had two minutes together to even talk today before he was whisked away by duty, and I wondered if I’d be able to steal a moment with him at all.
I noticed Mason, first looking at the horses, and then skimming heads as if searching for something.
“Looking for someone?” I asked.
“Jase said Wren and Synové were coming. Priya was looking for them.” “Priya? I saw her over by the food tent. I’ll go—”
“I’m going that way. I can tell her,” he said, waiting expectantly.
“Wren and Synové will be along. They were riding rear guard on the caravan. A wheel broke on one of the wagons. They’re staying behind until they get it rolling again.”
“Should we send someone to help them?” “Like you?”
“No,” he said quickly. “I’ve got things to do here. But there are some hands—”
“They have it covered, brother, thank you.”
Brother. They were all so infuriatingly different. But alike too. Mason had so much pride. Gunner, on the other hand, the brother I had thought I would always hate, had grown on me. Yeah, the way a tick grows on a dog, Synové had said before she left. She hadn’t quite developed the same fondness for him yet, but she had at least stopped calling him the nasty one. I missed her and Wren terribly. They had left six months ago and would only be here for a week before they were off again, escorting the queen and king’s entourage to Morrighan to attend her brother’s wedding.
|
The sun dropped closer to the spiked tops of the forest trees, its golden light beginning to shimmer with shades of twilight. Evening would soon tiptoe in. I told the camp cooks to ring everyone for dinner. We had a lot to feed. Between the thirty-five newcomers, the queen’s entourage, and the Ballenger crew, we had well over a hundred—double our last groundbreaking. I made sure dinner was beef stew—not venison and leek— and that there were plenty of potatoes for Priya.
I headed to the river to wash up, breathing in the smell of meadow and forest, of camp stoves bubbling, and of fields ripe with wheat ready to harvest. I soaked in the sultry summer air and the hum of distant voices. It was an entrancing balm, circling the valley. My footsteps slowed, easing into a rare leisurely pace.
For over a year our days had been nonstop and filled with vigorous work. The town was repaired and thriving again, and with news of Tor’s Watch becoming a recognized nation, the arena had rebounded and was busier than ever. There was still work to do on the family home. Vairlyn had said good riddance to Darkcottage, that she wouldn’t miss it and that she rather liked the openness created by the elimination of Cave’s End. Vairlyn always looked forward, and I tried to learn from her. Trees were planted in the new open space, and a lower garden was created that included a greenhouse, because Jalaine had loved to garden. The arrival of Lukas had created fullness in all of our lives, but he didn’t replace the hole that Jalaine had left. We talked about her often as if she were still there. We talked about her sacrifice trying to save the family, because whatever mistakes Jalaine had made, we had all made them, moments and decisions we couldn’t take back.
I destroyed Phineas’s papers that had been in Zane’s saddlebag, burning
them before I ever went in search of my mother. It will never be over. Not now. A door has been unlocked. Beaufort had been executed, but his words still haunted me. For now at least, the door was locked again. I never did find the vial I had hidden in the canyon. It was a worry, but in the explosion at Tor’s Watch, the rocks in the canyon had shifted, the crevice widened, and I assumed the vial had fallen into the dark depths of the earth, maybe all the way into hell, swallowed by tons of solid rock.
Someone like Phineas only comes along once every few generations.
And someone like Montegue.
I prayed it would be even longer than that.
I prayed that hungry dragon would stay in his dark den forever.
|
“There you are! Hiding from us?”
I turned to see Wren and Synové walking down the embankment to the river. I jumped from the water and ran up the slope, throwing my arms around them. They were both flushed with the summer sun, and smelled of trails and heather and wheel grease.
“Okay, enough,” Wren said, pushing me away and sizing me up. She nodded approvingly. “Patrei’s been covering your back?”
“Always,” I answered.
She shrugged. “Should be us.”
“Well?” Synové asked. “Did she tell you?” “Did who tell me what?”
Wren and Synové looked at each other. “She doesn’t know,” they said almost simultaneously.
“What?” I demanded.
They both shrugged nonchalantly, like it was suddenly unimportant. “The queen will tell you when she’s ready.”
“I’m ready.”
We all spun and looked at the top of the bank. The queen stood there— with Berdi.
I squealed and stumbled to the top of the bank, pulling Berdi into my arms. Everything about her was soft and warm, and even though she had been on the trail, she still smelled of bread and sweet fish stew—or maybe it was just all the memories I was breathing in.
“Surprise,” Synové said.
“Well, look at you!” Berdi chuckled, then felt her sides and pockets. Her brow wrinkled with mock confusion. “Hmm, still have all my spoons,” she said. She turned my chin from side to side. “What did you do with Ten?”
We laughed. Hugging had not been part of my repertoire.
Berdi had been patient with me like no other when I first arrived at the Sanctum. The kitchen was her domain, and no one dared trespass without her permission, so of course I did endlessly, rearranging her pots and stealing her wooden spoons just to annoy her. She began laying her spoons out in plain sight to make it easy for me, which of course took away all the fun. And then on nights when I refused to come to dinner she left a small meal out for me on the tiny table in the kitchen. She understood my head when I didn’t even understand it myself.
She stared at me now, probably most surprised by my overt affection. That was not something I had ever been generous with. At all. Ever. Not
even with Wren and Synové. Affection, like love, was best tucked away so you didn’t become accustomed to it. At least that was what I used to think.
Berdi told me she was going to Morrighan for the wedding and then on to Terravin to check in on her tavern. She had a longing to see it one more time. The years were rolling by, and she was slowing down, and she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to make the long journey again.
The queen scoffed, saying Berdi would outlive us all and that the true reason they were going on to Terravin was that King Jaxon had promised he would take her back there one day, and she was holding him to it. Now was the perfect time. “It will be a romantic getaway, reliving our days together when we first fell in love.” Her eyes still glowed with that love. “And of course, we miss the tavern too. It’s where it all started.”
I looked back at Berdi. Years. They were adding up for her. She had aged since I had seen her last. Time could run out. But it could run out for us all, at any time, no matter our age. Maybe that was why—
I hugged her again. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the cook’s tent. They could use your expertise—”
“Wait!” Synové said. “That’s not what the queen had to tell you.”
The queen smiled. “I’ll leave them to tell you about it.” She left with Berdi, who was now eager to get to the cook’s tent and lend her expertise.
Wren and Synové took turns telling me the news, finishing each other’s sentences.
“We have a new assignment.”
“At least for the next several months.” “But it might be permanent.”
“We’re going to be staying on here as liaisons.” “Because of the new settlers and all.”
“Well, maybe not exactly here. Maybe in town.”
“And with Parsuss still up in the air, the custodians need help.” “The queen says she can’t put it all on you.”
“And with us—” “Well—”
Finally their chatter slowed. “I think the queen mostly knew we were missing it here,” Synové said.
“Missing you,” Wren added.
“And some of those Ballengers,” Synové said. “But not the nasty one.” I suspected “the nasty one” now referred to Mason.
|
My heart soared as I walked with my bowl of stew and rye, like I was a Valsprey in the clouds carrying the best kind of message. I was afraid to even think it. Wren and Synové. Here. A perfect day. Would the gods hear?
I looked up into the heavens and shook off the thought.
When I reached the gathering beneath the oak trees, there was no longer the Ballenger-Vendan divide. Everyone was spread out, finishing their dinners, perched on whatever seat they could find, stacks of lumber, sides of wagons, overturned buckets, and the few benches we had brought along. Lydia and Nash had already gobbled up their dinners and huddled near the center oak with Kerry, their flutes in hand as he tried to teach them the tune of “Wolf Moon.” Gunner sat off from the crowd—with Jurga—slowly eating his stew, his eyes mostly on her. I searched for Jase and spotted him sitting on a crate in deep conversation with King Jaxon, both of them with sleeves rolled up, their boots thick with dust. Kerry said they had all been digging post holes together.
I watched Jase’s face as I ate my stew, his expression animated, his hands moving as he explained something, the king nodding in return. I smiled. I remembered his hands moving just as passionately when I refused to sign the letter to the queen until he agreed to reparations. I had believed in Jase, but I had never thought a day like this would come. The twists and turns were always surprising.
Wren, Synové, Priya, and a Vendan newcomer sat on a bench together finishing their meal, all of them leaning in close like they were old friends. And then Mason approached them, talking mostly to Priya. Synové looked down, fiddling with her persimmon braid, pretending he wasn’t there, but I saw his dark eyes glance her way again and again.
An older boy joined Lydia, Nash, and Kerry, and led them in the tune. The wistful melody of their flutes floated through the camp like a soft hypnotizing smoke. Heads turned.
The king pulled the queen to her feet to dance.
Kaden and Pauline followed, their children holding on to Pauline’s skirt and Kaden’s trousers, Kaden kissing Pauline over their heads, before Kit reached up, wanting to be held in her father’s arms.
Several of the newcomers joined hands, pulling in Paxton, Titus, Priya, and Aleski, showing them the simple swaying Vendan dance.
Eridine and Hélder circled their arms through Vairlyn’s, and Aram and Samuel grabbed Wren’s hands, pulling her over to join them.
Caemus sat on a stump, nodding and tapping his foot in time to the tune.
Watch for the magic, Kazi. It is all around you.
“Dance?”
I whirled and warm brown eyes met mine. “Patrei, I was beginning to think we would never get a moment alone.”
“Then you don’t know me very well, do you?”
“Oh, I know you, all right. I can see your kind coming a mile away. This is all for show, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely.”
Jase pulled me into his arms.
I laid my head on his shoulder, feeling his muscled chest beneath my cheek, breathing in his scent, the smell of fresh-sawn lumber still on his clothes. “Tell me the riddle again, Jase,” I whispered.
“You just want to make wrong guesses so you can kiss me.” I clucked my tongue. “You’re onto me, Patrei.”
He pulled me closer. “Happy to oblige, Ambassador,” he said, and then whispered the riddle, his voice like a soft warm blanket around my shoulders. I was lost in its magic.
Lost in wonder. Lost in gratitude.
Utterly lost, but completely found, Captured, taken … a prisoner bound.
I made wrong guesses as he knew I would, and he kissed me between each one. A wilderness sprang up around us, wish stalks filled our pockets, and a chain jingled between our ankles. The twists and turns I never could
have foreseen, the steps that brought us from there to here, they tumbled through my head in an astonishing blur.
I happily lost track of time, but then Jase nudged me and whispered, “Look over there.”
I opened my eyes and saw Mason approach Synové across the way. He appeared to speak a few words to her. She spoke a few back and then he took her hand and pulled her out to the clearing to dance. Their steps were hesitant, but slowly the space between them closed and Synové rested her head on his shoulder.
The queen once told me there were a hundred ways to fall in love. Maybe there were a hundred ways to find and give forgiveness too. I think I had already found a few of them.
|
I jotted a few last words down in my journal, recording every detail of the way the final papers were signed, the way Jase had looked, the way I felt, remembering the scent of campfires and meadow and hope, who was there and what they said, and I thought about the way history was made every day in small and large ways, by all kinds of people, every action creating new destinies, even the act of naming an obscure little town. New Fogswallow. The settlement name was finally decided. Caemus and Jase suggested it, and Kerry and the rest of the camp enthusiastically agreed. A bit of the past, a bit of the future. The first new city of Tor’s Watch.
Jase pushed open the tent flap and walked inside. “Mije and Tigone are saddled up and ready.” It was time to go home. The barn and mill were done. The houses were well underway, the stonemasons now laying their foundations.
Jase leaned over where I worked at the desk and swept my hair aside, kissing my neck. “I have a surprise for you when we get home.”
“Jase Ballenger, every day with you is a surprise.” He peeked over my shoulder. “Getting it all down?” “Every word.”
“Good,” he whispered. “We have a lot of shelves to fill.”
I closed the book, stuffed it in my saddlebag, and we left to go home.
Who will write our story, Jase?
We will, Kazi. You and I will write our own story.
And side by side, every day, that is what we do.
