The Wayfarer King (42 page)

Daia jogged over. “Cirang’s alive? We thought Ritol killed her.”

“She was badly injured but alive. Who is she?”

Daia glared at Cirang as the two battlers escorted her past, bound to the saddle of a horse. “She forsook the Sisterhood when you freed the other Sisters from Ravenkind’s magic. She used her former allegiance with the Sisterhood to lure your brother and everyone else here. She murdered one of my fellow Sisters and framed me for it, and she undoubtedly had a hand in the deaths of your brother and cousin.”

“Did you see her kill anyone?”

“Well, no.”

“She’s wearing Ravenkind’s necklace. Maybe she was under his influence like the others were. I’ll let her explain herself before I judge and sentence her.” He watched Cirang ride off, wondering why the smirk on her face looked so familiar.

Gavin searched the cottage’s cellar for a blanket, which he used to wrap Rogan’s stiff body. He put his brother on his brown draft horse and went to Liera.

“Jaesh,” he called. “Asia, GJ. Come here a minute.”

The boys jogged over, and Gavin put his arm around Jaesh’s shoulder and Asiawyth’s, but he looked at Liera. “I’m sorry about what I did, letting Rogan die.”

“You didn’t—” Liera started.

“I did. It’s my fault, and I’m sorry. If I’d killed Ravenkind straight away, none o’this would’ve happened. I thought I could put him off for a bit longer, but I was wrong, and you suffered for it.” He looked each of them in the eye. “I can’t take his place as your father or your husband, but I got a place for you to live. I’ll see to your needs and make sure you live at least as well as you would’ve if Rogan hadn’t been slain.”

“You mean we could live with you in the palace?” Asiawyth asked.

“Yeh, that’s what I mean. If you want to. If you’d rather go back to Saliria, that’s fine too. Whatever you want. I’ll provide for you.”

Liera nodded. “Let’s take time to think about it, boys. We don’t have to decide right away.”

Gavin scratched his temple. He was hoping they wouldn’t take too long to decide. “We need to bury Rogan. If you want to return to Saliria, we’ll bury him there so you can visit his grave whenever you want. Otherwise, we can bury him in Tern.” They had to get the rest of him from the inn, but they needed to inter him soon. With the weather as warm as it had been, the decomposition process would be fairly quick, and he would begin to smell. “I don’t want to rush you, but it’s best if that decision isn’t delayed too long.”

“Let’s bury him in Tern,” Liera said. When her voice caught in her throat, she put a hand to her mouth. A pair of tears dribbled from her eyes. Jaesh put his arm around her. “Bury him here so we’ll always be close to him.” The five of them collapsed into a circle embrace. Liera and the boys shed tears. Gavin cried on the inside.

With the smaller children riding double with an adult, they formed a procession to the Elegance Inn, where Tennara ran in to retrieve the crate containing Rogan’s head. They hitched Feanna’s wagon to Nellie, and a relieved Trevick joined them as the group continued to the cemetery. Between them, they barely had enough money to pay for a grave plot, but after Edan had a private conversation with the sexton, the cost was reduced to a single pielar, which GJ insisted on paying himself. Tennara likewise paid for two graves for the fallen Sisters.

Gavin took the shovel from the gravedigger and began digging. Daia asked for another and Edan another, and together they dug Rogan’s grave. The Sisters offered to take over, but this was Gavin’s responsibility. He wouldn’t stand around and watch while someone else buried his brother. He accepted help from Edan and Daia because they were friends, and because the job went faster with their help. The Sisters borrowed the last two shovels and dug graves for Dona and Nasharla.

The sexton donated plain caskets and a temporary grave marker, which Gavin intended to replace later with something Liera and the boys picked out. For now, it would do.

He and Daia laid Rogan into the wooden casket, and Gavin positioned his head where it belonged, then draped the blanket over him to hide the neck wound. One by one, they said good-bye to Rogan, and Gavin nailed the lid onto the coffin. Using ropes beneath the box, they lowered it carefully into the ground.

Gavin stood over the grave, looking down at the plain wooden box, dusted with crumbs of dirt. He cleared his tight throat. “My brother left a lot undone...” His voice was quiet and strained. “...and things he never had a chance to begin. I’ll continue what he started — to see his boys grown into men. I promise.”

His throat choked off his words, and he couldn’t deliver the eulogy he wanted. Edan, the ever-present shoulder for him to lean upon, spoke to the group about what Rogan had meant to them as a husband, father, brother and friend. At last, they began to fill the hole. With each shovelful of dirt Gavin tossed on Rogan’s coffin, his heart shattered into ever smaller pieces. He wished he could share an ale with his brother once more and talk about what Rogan wanted for his family, what he hoped to see his sons accomplish before he died.

Maybe someday he would.

Everyone crowded around the dining tables at the Elegance Inn, pushed end to end to accommodate them as they ate their fill. Though the mood was somber, they took a collective breath and turned to the future. They each told their stories — how they ended up at the cottage and what happened while they were there.

Gavin began his story when he left to save Arek. When he described how he’d used the rune to summon Ritol, Adro bent his head. Had they been alone, Gavin would have teased him for having exaggerated his own heroism, but he wouldn’t shame the buck in front of everyone. He continued the story to when he found his way home again.

To his credit, Adro raised his glass to Gavin. “Outside of this room, I won’t admit it,” he said, “but I blinked just when my sword was about to strike the monster. When it vanished, I thought I hit it so hard that it fled back to hell.” Everyone laughed. “The truth makes more sense, though. A toast to our king. The man with hero’s blood.”

Gavin looked out the windows at the people going about their lives in the warmth of the afternoon sun, feeling more relaxed than he had in years. Though he had a lifetime of anxiety yet to suffer, the task that had plagued him for so long was finished. He was too relieved to feel apprehensive about assuming his role as king. In fact, part of him was excited to start rebuilding the country and improving people’s lives. “Who wants to come with me to explore the palace?”

At once, the room erupted in a chorus of “I do!” and “Me!” Chairs scraped on the slate floor as everyone rose, ready to see the inside of a building no living person had ever entered — except, of course, for Gavin.

Feanna rode atop Golam on Gavin’s lap, snuggled against him. He imagined they made quite a sight as they began their pilgrimage from the inn to the palace. People stopped to watch, no doubt wondering what was going on. Several of the lordover’s soldiers joined them as well, perhaps to see what they were up to and intervene in any mischief.

The bridge from Regal Street to the island was rotted and impassable. They crossed through the water on horseback, lifting their feet to keep them dry. They made several trips to retrieve everyone in the wagon and gathered around the gate. The heavy lock on the gate was old and rusted. The key Daia had given him from Rogan’s old chest didn’t budge it, and hitting it with Aldras Gar had no effect.

A crowd was gathering on the other shore. People murmured about what they were doing. Some speculated whether one of them could be the king.

The Lordover Tern rode up, flanked by several soldiers, and parted the crowd.

“Perhaps you’re looking for this?” Celónd asked. He held up a key.

Gavin groaned, wondering what he would have to do to get it. To his surprise, Celónd handed the key to a soldier who then led his horse into the lake and across to the island. Everyone moved aside for him. With a few wiggles of the key, the lock clicked open. He removed it from the iron bars of the gate, and Gavin pushed the gate open with a rusty squeal. There was no spark or ripple in the air to signify the barrier was gone. It simply was.

They left the horses to graze on the overgrown grass and weeds while they walked up the crumbling path to the front doors. It wasn’t the same vision he’d had the day before when he’d walked this path to the grand entrance, but in his mind’s eye, he could see the wood polished, the grounds manicured, the windows sparkling as they had in happier times. With some care and work, the palace would return to its former magnificence.

He pulled open the double doors. The scene that greeted him nearly broke his heart — the chandelier lying mangled on the floor, the banisters of the twin staircase in splinters, doors ripped from their hinges, furniture and rugs shredded, glass shattered. As his companions stepped carefully around the debris on the floor, Gavin caught GJ by the shirt and handed him the ornate key. “See if this opens anything.” The boy smiled brightly and dashed off. “And be careful not to trip over anything.” Gavin took it all in, shaking his head. “King Arek would be devastated to see it like this.”

Feanna placed a comforting hand on his chest. “With a little toil and oil, it’ll be beautiful. You’ll see.”

“As long as you’re in it.” Gavin knew this wasn’t the most romantic time or place, but the hope in her eyes and warmth of her touch inspired him to fall to one knee. “Being king is something I got to do, but there’s no other woman I’d rather have as my wife. It’s prob’ly not the life you dreamed o’living, but maybe together, it’ll be easier for us both to bear.” He took her hand. “Feanna, will you marry me?”

Being king was Gavin’s fate, but Feanna didn’t have to become queen. She could return to her farm, perhaps accept her neighbor Harv’s courtship and marry him, have a baby or two, but she wouldn’t be fulfilled emotionally. Life with Gavin would undoubtedly be harder, but it would be fulfilling. There was no question in her mind that he would accept and love her adopted children and that he would give her more. He would love her, truly love her, and that was what she wanted more than anything.

Being queen would also give her the ability to help many more children by ensuring the orphanages had what they needed. It was an opportunity for her to do real good in the world.

The raw emotion of the moment choked her. The word, however much she wanted to say it, would simply not come. Tears fell from her eyes, and she nodded instead, choking back a sob. “Yes,” she managed to whisper. “With all my heart, yes.”

He rose and took her into his strong embrace, and for the first time in her life, she felt completely safe. When his mouth came down upon hers, she opened her lips eagerly, welcoming his kiss and the delicious, erotic feelings that it inspired.

Someone giggled. They turned to find not only the children watching but Edan, Daia, Liera, Adro and ten Viragon Sisters as well, all with a dreamy smile on their faces, and some with a gleam of moisture in their eyes. Edan began to clap, and the others joined in, laughing.

“My work here is done,” Liera said proudly.

“Looks like we have ourselves a king
and
a queen,” Edan said.