Destiny's Blood (46 page)

A sob escaped with her breath as she smelled the blooms again, mixed with her sister’s sweat when she would return from her dangerous escapades. Yoma would laugh the pain and tears away as Layela tended to her wounds.
Before mine were too deep for any of us to know how to heal.

The familiar ache of the Kilita’s touch did not manage to replace the warm memories of her sister’s loyalty.

Tears streaked down her face as she remembered Josmere’s laughter and smile, remembering her plea to be allowed to die so that others could live. And she remembered the feel of the earth, the smell of it, still clinging to her despite the change of clothes and Layela’s fresh blood. But still Josmere’s death could not block the sound of her laughter, ringing so clear and true it would always resonate within Layela.

She felt a hand touch her cheek, the rough skin gently removing each tear without a word; without question.

Her eyes opened slowly. Ardin’s face was misty through her tears, his eyes deep pools of concern. A smile broke free of her lips, and she let him hold her, covering the smells of her memories
 
—
 
the blooms of Yoma and the earth of Josmere
 
—
 
with his smell. Sweat, blood.
Life
.

She held him for a long time. Mirial’s ether bloomed all around them, her mind singing a song she had forgotten so long ago, as she remembered who and what she was.

Layela Delamores.
She was all that was left.

And she was enough.

E
PILOGUE

L
ayela walked by the great lake of Mirial, her skirts trailing after her on the lush grass. Berganda children played among the Booknots, laughing and screaming.

“You did say she would leave us an army of brats.” Ardin picked up one of the younger ones and twirled her around, to be rewarded by whoops of laughter.

“I can’t believe five years have already passed,” Layela whispered as she looked upon the sparkling waters where she had laid Josmere to rest. As soon as she could, she had decorated her grave with Booknots, and cared for the children of the Berganda as though they were her own.

Ardin laced his fingers into hers. “Avienne will be arriving later with supplies, and she won’t be here long. We should head back soon.”

Layela nodded and looked at the waters one more time. As Queen of Mirial, she had taken the liberty of renaming it Lake Feathers, after her sister.

It made her smile to think of Josmere and Yoma being together again.

“Lady, Captain Malavant has arrived and urgently requests you.”

“Probably has a prank to play,” Ardin mumbled, and Layela laughed. “Thank you, Loren,” the woman nodded and walked off on her braces; one of her legs had been lost in the final battle of Mirial.

“You judge your sister so,” Layela said, walking towards the palace as she smelled the pure air. “She was, after all, so excited to learn she would be an aunt.”

“I thought Mirialers weren’t supposed to know who the father of the heir was?” Ardin said, picking up a flower and giving it to her. She held it tenderly and smiled at him. He gave a low chuckle.

“I refuse to let the past dictate our future, Ardin Malavant,” she teased him, with a kiss.
The future is not written,
she told herself.
No matter how insistent her visions sometimes were.

She took his hand and walked back towards their home, ignoring the sound of bells tolling in the distant reaches of her mind.