She shook free of her thoughts to find Amden studying her. He smiled at her, a trifle sadly, then extended his hand to her. She hopped down from the wall, and he offered to walk her part of the way back. They went along in silence for a few minutes.
"You know," he said, breaking the silence tentatively. "I am glad you were on the wall today. I was afraid I shouldn't see you before I left, and I wanted to say goodbye."
She started. "Goodbye? But where are you going?"
"Oh, here and there," he replied vaguely. "I've the wanderlust in my blood; I never stay in one place long and I've stayed here already longer than I ought."
"Go?" she repeated stupidly. "But—but—" She swallowed hard. "I shall miss you," she quavered, finally, thinking of the glorious summer afternoons filled with music and the wind from the sea. She saw the lane he would turn onto ahead a little way, and felt tears choking her. Amden took her hands in his and told her that he would miss her, too, and for an instant she thought he would say more; but instead, he smiled and bid her farewell and good luck, then released her hands and turned up the lane.
"Farewell, Amden," she said unsteadily, as he walked away. Through the tears in her eyes, she watched him go, but he did not turn back to wave as he had so often done. Vyria let out her breath in a long, shuddering sigh and dried her tears with the backs of her hands. Then, biting her lip, she whirled away and raced up the path to the garden gate. Her uncle was waiting for her at the door.
"There you are," he greeted her. "Lord Relar was here; he left you a gift." Tregar gestured toward the table.
Vyria's eyes opened wide in surprise, for lying on the plain tablecloth was a necklace. It was not a pretty thing. Instead of glittering, jewel-like stars, the chain was set with ungainly rocks, brown or black with a metallic sheen, and misshapen as though fire-formed. She looked at her uncle.
"Those are no stars!" she exclaimed.
Tregar seemed secretly amused. "They are meteorites, Relar tells me, stars that have spent their fire and fallen to earth in a last blaze of brightness."
Vyria shook her head in disbelief. "But this is not what I meant! I meant stars—real stars!—not these ugly, burned-out stones!"
Uncle Tregar shook his head. "But those ugly stones, Vyria, they are real stars—or rather, real fallen stars. Relar has won you, and fairly."
"No!" she cried, before she could stop the words. "Not Relar!" She began to weep and plead, but Tregar merely turned his back on her. Vyria fled to her room and flung herself down upon her bed.
When she could weep no more, she went to her window, leaned both elbows on the sill and gazed out into the night. The stars mocked her, and even the wind whispered maliciously. Amden's face seemed to hover before her, unblurred by the tears that filled her eyes.
"I can't marry Relar," she whispered. "I won't! I love Amden. I won't marry Relar. I won't. I won't!" She repeated the words like phrases of a litany until she was calm enough to sleep. She went to bed, but her sleep was troubled by dreams, and long before her uncle rose, she woke. Dressing quickly in her simplest frock, she set out for the Court to find Amden. By the time she reached the Hall of Bards, old Farkan was awake and about.
He greeted her with a smile, but when she asked after Amden, a frown creased his parchment colored face, and he told her the young man had left last evening, bound first for Narindale, and after that, only the wind and road could tell. At her stricken expression, old Farkan put his arm around her shoulders and then quite suddenly offered her the use of his horse. She protested that she might never return and couldn't possibly take his horse, but he silenced her, saying that his son was the Narindale blacksmith, so she could leave the horse with him. Vyria hugged him gratefully.
Farkan saw her off, perched high on the back of his dapple gray. Vyria rode all day, stopping only for a few minutes at noon for her meal. She arrived in Narindale, with aches in every bone and muscle, an hour before sunset.
As there was only one inn in the little town, Vyria went there first. But Amden was not there, nor, the innkeeper told her, had he been there. She left the noisy, smoky tavern to sit in the quiet where she could think and breathe. She was worried, for Amden should have arrived by now, and she knew she had not passed him on the road. What if he had changed his plans? Or Farkan might have gotten the town wrong; he was old, he might be getting forgetful. Suddenly Vyria leapt to her feet. Had she heard—yes! It was the sound of a flute. Amden was sitting beneath a tree playing to a crowd of children. She sat down at the edge of the group to listen.
One by one, the children reluctantly left as their families summoned them to their dinners. When the last one was gone, Amden laid his flute aside and turned to Vyria. "Why are you here?" he asked her. His face was grim.
"I..." she began, frantically trying to frame her reply. "I..." Her voice began to tremble and she felt tears seeping around her resolution.
Amden waited without speaking.
"Lord Relar returned yesterday," she began, "bearing a necklace of fallen stars. You asked me once what I would do if I should fall in love, and I..." she paused and swallowed. "I love you, Amden. I couldn't bear to have you simply wander out of my life, vanish with a melody."
"But Vyria, what of the necklace of fallen stars?" he asked her gently.
"Oh Amden, if you love me, I will follow you to the stars, pluck them from the heavens with my own hands and string them about my neck on a strand of woven moonlight! If you do not love me, I shall return to my uncle's house. I shall wed Relar and I shall try to be a dutiful wife and a—a good mother. It is for you to decide. Only—only you must not ask me to forget you, for I never shall." She bowed her head to hide her tears and waited.
***
Kaela stopped speaking.
"But—but the ending, Kaela?" Kippen asked quietly.
"That," she said with a small and gentle smile, "is for you to decide."
"Kaela, I cannot wed you," he said sadly.
"Cannot, or will not?"
"Does it matter?"
She nodded.
"Cannot, then. I am a pauper, a commoner and a vagabond."
"But Kippen," she said with a smile, "I know that. And I am a wayward, ungovernable hoyden with a wicked temper. But I love you."
He took her hands in his. "But Kaela, you have royal blood. I am not good enough for you."
"Royal blood!" she exclaimed with disgust. "Why, all my life people, have prated at me about blood and rank and responsibilities, and I'm thoroughly tired of it. I care nothing for it, so why should I burden myself with it? I've never understood why royalty is so wonderful. I don't care a fig for princesses!"
"And I," he said smiling tenderly, "I care for only one. But come, my love—for all your abandon, I doubt the queen of Cymyl would agree with us, so we'd best be on our way."
Kaela laughed, her face bright. "There you're wrong, Kippen. In fact, I think we'd better go tell her. She'd want to know."
"Well then, let's go!" he cried. "Perhaps," he added, "she can tell us where to find a priest." He helped her to her feet and hand in hand, Kaela and Kippen walked down from the high place.
The End.
About the Author
Beth Hilgartner is a writer, an Episcopal priest, a classical musician, an avid gardener, a serious knitter, an enthusiastic equestrian, and the founder and executive director of CAMEO Arts Foundation. She has published nine books, most of which are making their way into e-book format, soon. She lives in Orford, New Hampshire with her husband and cats.
Other Books by this Author
Discover other books by Beth Hilgartner, all of which (except as noted) will be available as e-books in the near future.
Children’s/YA Fiction
Great Gorilla Grins (A picture book with Leslie Morrill, illustrator; not available as an e-book.)
A Necklace of Fallen Stars
A Murder for Her Majesty (Currently in print. Contact the publisher to request e-book format.)
Dreamweaver series
Colors in the Dreamweaver’s Loom
The Feast of the Trickster
The Bharaghlafi series
A Business of Ferrets
A Parliament of Owls
Cybercats series
Cats in Cyberspace
PKP For President (Currently in print. An e-book edition is available.)
Connect with Beth Hilgartner
I really appreciate you reading my book and I’d love to hear what you think! Here are my social media coordinates:
Friend me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bhilgartner
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/bethhilgartner
Favorite my Smashwords author page: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/Hilgartner
Visit my website: http://www.bethhilgartner.com
And if you’re interested in the other things I do (besides write), check out my performing ensemble, Cameo Baroque, on Facebook: http://facebook.com/cameobaroque and
Find out about the arts/music non-profit foundation I’m working on: http://www.cameoarts.org
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