by Shae Ford
Even after he’d drained the knot and sealed it closed, Baird still hadn’t stirred. Though the wildmen had done their best to feed him, his limbs had grown terribly thin and frail. His knobby hands shook a bit when Kael grasped them.
He couldn’t help but feel responsible. “I’m sorry, Baird. I should’ve listened to you — I should’ve stopped the mages first thing.”
“It does him no good to dwell upon the past. I thought he’d already learned,” Baird replied, brows creasing over the top of his bandages. “Still, I suppose the young ones must be reminded. Knowledge runs like water off their backs — but it sticks tightly in wrinkles and folds. That’s how the old ones are able to carry so much wisdom.”
“Is that it?” Kyleigh called from the balcony, her voice tinged with amusement. “And here I thought wisdom came from age and experience.”
Baird smiled widely. “A common mistake, to be sure. Come here, Swordmaiden. Kael the Wright has much to tell me, I sense — and I know he cannot possibly do the story justice without your help.”
They stayed in Thanehold for several weeks, spending nearly every hour of the days with Baird. He seemed to brighten considerably as they told them of their adventures in the Motherlands, and laughed outright when he discovered how his letter had tricked Ulric into running back to Midlan.
“A weapon of the King used to foil him? A fitting end!” Baird said. Then he twisted around to Griffith. “Mark that down, young man. Are you getting it all?”
“Yes,” he replied, grinning as his quill rushed across the page. “What happened to Crevan, then? How’d you gut him?”
Kael realized that he had no idea: Kyleigh had never told him.
“I tried to teach him to fly,” she said when they asked. The fires in her eyes took on a dangerous edge as she smirked. “Though as it turned out, he wasn’t very good at flying. I suppose you really do need wings.”
“An age-old question finally answered!” Baird cried.
Kael couldn’t believe it. “Wait a moment — the man I saw fall from the tower … that was Crevan?” Even when she nodded, it still felt strange. His only glimpse of the King had been as he plummeted to his death. He’d always expected a … grander end, to his rule.
Though when he thought about it, he supposed being thrown from a window was about as grand a death as Crevan deserved.
“How high was the tower?” Griffith pressed.
“High enough that he had plenty of time to think about what an evil rash he’s been the whole way down,” Kyleigh said.
“He left a horrible mess at the bottom,” Kael added — which made Griffith laugh.
Baird had them tell the whole story five times through before he felt well enough to start walking on his own. Then for a few days more, Griffith led him patiently around Thanehold — Baird’s knobby hands clenched around his arm.
“I think he’s going to pull through,” Kyleigh mused, at the dusk of one particularly entertaining day.
Not only had the beggar-bard decided that he felt well enough to start whistling at the birds again, but Gwen had returned from Midlan that afternoon — her army reduced to a mere handful of what it’d been before.
It turned out that the wildmen were rather taken with their adventure across the Kingdom — so taken, in fact, that they’d scattered off in every direction the moment the battle ended. A few stayed in Midlan to help with the repairs, and a handful or so had joined up with the mercenaries in the forest.
Kael wasn’t at all surprised that a good number of them had decided to become pirates. But what did surprise him was the fact that Brend had allowed a small group of craftsmen to follow the giants into the Endless Plains.
“There’ll be whisperers in every region again, just like there was before,” Kyleigh said with a smile. “It’s all coming back.”
Griffith had taken the news rather well, but Gwen was clearly heartbroken — though she mourned in a way that made it difficult to pity her.
She’d stormed and stomped all afternoon, yelling about how she meant to tan their traitorous hides. Nothing Griffith did seemed to calm her. Not even Silas could think of anything to say to stop her rants. He did finally manage to corner her in an empty part of the castle — but even then, she put a boot through the wall.
Though Kael certainly understood her anger, he knew how the wildmen felt. And he couldn’t bring himself to leave Thanehold without at least trying to explain it to Gwen. “The mountains will always be their home. Nothing will ever change that,” he said, once he’d managed to pin her against the floor.
He knew full well that Gwen would rage unless he held her down. But Silas wouldn’t have it: he’d lunged for Kael the moment he touched her, so Kyleigh tossed him out by the scruff of his neck.
Now he yowled and scratched against the door while Kyleigh stood guard — and taunted him mercilessly through the keyhole.
“They’re traitors!” Gwen snarled.
When she tried to squirm out from beneath him, Kael pressed harder against her back. “You know that isn’t true. They’re not traitors — and they won’t forget you, by the way.”
“You don’t know that,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. All the coil went out of her muscles as she finally collapsed. “You don’t know that.”
“I haven’t forgotten you yet, and we haven’t known each other half as long. Just because there’s some distance between you now doesn’t mean they no longer care. There’s a whole Kingdom out there, Gwen,” he said, rolling to lie beside her. “As someone who’s just come off the mountains, himself, I can tell you that it’s an exciting thing. But Thanehold will always be their home, and the wildmen will always be their people. They might even come back someday.”
“Do you think so?”
“I certainly plan on coming back — I miss the cold. But you’re going to have to welcome them.”
“I will.”
“And you understand that threatening to ram your axe down their throats blades-first isn’t at all welcoming, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she moaned.
Though she’d been ordered not to come within punching distance, Kyleigh wandered over to them. She crouched on Gwen’s other side, her brows raised at the sight of them sprawled out upon the floor. “How’s it coming, over here?”
“I think we’ve got it all managed,” Kael said, glaring until Gwen agreed with a somber nod.
Kyleigh smiled. “Brilliant. Well, if we’re all through moping, I think it’s time to say goodbye.”
She smacked Gwen hard on the rump — Kael thought the ensuing brawl might’ve cheered her more than anything.
CHAPTER 59
A Dose of Tonic
When they finally returned to Copperdock, they discovered that Shamus had managed to convince a few of the wildmen to become shipbuilders — and they were already hard at work on Roost.
“Grab a handful of rubble and let’s get her looking decent again,” Shamus called when he spotted Kael. Though his bushy sideburns were nearly flattened with sweat, he still managed to grin. “Lady Kyleigh? I’d love to have my shipbuilders come back to their homes, if you wouldn’t mind spreading the word.”
“I think I can manage that,” she said with a nod. Then she grabbed Kael under the chin and growled: “Be good while I’m away.”
“Never.”
“You’ll pay for your insolence, whisperer,” she warned as she kissed him. “Mark my words.”
The days they spent repairing Copperdock passed in a wave of exhaustion and heat. Dampness hung from every thread of air, and the summer winds did nothing but swirl the discomfort around. Though the wildmen had to strip down to their underthings just to keep from melting, they never relinquished their grins — and the moment Shamus announced the end of the day, they’d tear off to cool themselves in the sea.
After a few hours’ practice, the warriors swam as well as fish. The craftsmen, on the other hand, spent most of their time being rolled around by the waves. It seemed
like hardly an evening passed that one of them didn’t have to be rescued from the pull of the tide. But for whatever mad reason, they kept splashing right back in.
Ships began arriving a few days after Kyleigh left, their decks packed with villagers. They poured into their homes and went straight back to their chores. Soon, Copperdock bustled as if its people had never been gone.
Once they’d put Roost back together, they fixed its shattered gate. “Finally!” Knotter cried as the craftsmen hung him into place. “I never thought I’d escape that awful closet. My rash has only just cleared up. Hello, my beauty.” His lopsided eyes twisted to the other door. “I hope you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you.”
Kael didn’t have the heart to tell him that they’d had to replace the other door, not when he saw how Knotter’s crack of a mouth bent so happily.
“Eh, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Shamus said with a shrug. “That, I don’t want to give him a reason to jam the latches.”
Gerald and Mandy returned not a day after Kael had settled back into his chambers. He came down the next morning to find Gerald at his post, armor clattering with an enthusiastic wave. No sooner had he stepped into the kitchens than Mandy handed him a plate piled high with breakfast.
“Isn’t it nice to be home, Master Kael?” she called as she bustled past him.
It was, indeed. Though they’d put the walls and ceilings back together, Roost had still felt empty without its people.
Geist showed up later that afternoon — clad all in black and with the remnants of a nasty bruise shadowing his eye. “I tried to find a position elsewhere, but my last employer was not so kind,” he droned, touching his faded wound. “A flaw, I fear, that was his ultimate undoing. Would you have any need for a butler?”
“Of course. Someone’s got to keep Kyleigh in line,” Kael said.
Geist nodded slowly. His expression never once changed as he mumbled: “Ah. That reminds me.”
He stepped to the side, and the force that charged through the door behind him very nearly knocked Kael flat. The world spun as Kyleigh grabbed him around the waist and tossed him over her shoulder.
“Come on, you,” she growled.
“Mind the steps,” Geist muttered after them. “And try to keep the disaster small.”
*******
“I’ve missed you,” Kyleigh murmured into his chest. Her arm lay heavily across his middle, and her eyes had fallen closed. “Why do the days we’re apart seem so much longer than the rest?”
Because we haven’t got much time, Kael thought dully.
It was easy to forget his troubles, while he loved her. But the truth spoke loudly in the following quiet. It was a truth that pressed against him, an ever-present smog in the back of his mind — a problem he just couldn’t figure out how to solve.
Kael traced the mark on Kyleigh’s back as he thought: it was the crest of Midlan, branded into her flesh. She’d refused to let him erase it. No matter how he begged, and no matter how she seemed to loathe it, Kyleigh wouldn’t budge.
It made no sense to keep the mark — just as her deciding to send them back to the Kingdom made no sense. He didn’t understand why she would choose anguish over the eternal woods … and though he was furious about the whole thing, he knew it would do him no good to be angry.
Kyleigh had no idea that she’d chosen to suffer.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” Kael said quickly. He tried to clear his mind, tried not to let Kyleigh feel his worry. He didn’t want to ruin the few seasons they would have together.
“I stopped in to see Devin, while I traveled.”
“Oh? How’s he taken to being King?” Kael asked, grateful to have a distraction.
“He loathes it. Argon’s trying to shake all of the wildness out of him before the nobles start turning up. He says that having spines is no excuse to not have manners. Honestly, it’s nothing compared to what Crumfeld put me through.” Kyleigh grinned sleepily. “I think the molting’s just making him grumpy.”
Kael ran his finger down the branded dragon’s throat — and tried not to imagine that it taunted him. “Devin’s molting?”
“Yes. I built him a forge and taught him how to save his scales in the fire. Once they fall, I’ll make him some armor. It’ll be our coronation gift.”
“Coronation?” Kael said absently.
Kyleigh replied, but he didn’t hear her answer. Something she’d said struck him hard across the front of his mind: gift. Something about a gift … something he’d heard an age ago …
Kael traced the curved edges of the branded dragon’s wing, all of his thought bent upon that word. It was a loose thread — he was certain of it. He didn’t know where it might lead, but he was determined to reach its end.
Gift …
Something that was meant to be a gift …
… the gift it was meant to be …
… you would do well to remember the day you were born. Remember that you belong to me. In time … perhaps you will see it for the gift it was meant to be.
Kael stopped. He didn’t move, he didn’t breathe. It wasn’t the thought of Death that froze him: it was where Death’s words had led him. It was at the thread’s end, at the idea that waited in a knot before him …
A mad, impossible idea.
“The first snow,” Kael said quietly. He braced himself, convinced a wall of doubt would come to crush him, but it didn’t.
Kyleigh rose up to frown at him. “Are you all right?”
Kael couldn’t think to reply. He was afraid that if his mind so much as twitched from this thought, it would be lost to him forever. “Will you stay here with me?”
“Of course. We can stay anywhere you like —”
“No, it has to be here.” He grabbed her around the shoulders, his heart racing. “I was born on the day of the first snow. But it never snows in this part of the Kingdom. So as long as I stay here, I’ll never age.”
It was a ridiculous thought — in the same way that turning flesh to clay or skin to stone was ridiculous. But all Kael had ever needed to do anything ridiculous was a reason to believe he could. And the thought of living someplace where the snows never came gave him the reason he needed to convince himself that it could be done.
His heart calmed immediately. He was no longer mindful of its every beat, that each throb carried him closer to his death. Instead, he imagined that it more whirred than pounded — as if it would sing on for ages in a relentless hum.
Kyleigh stared down at him, her brows arced in confusion. “Kael, I don’t think —”
“Good. Don’t think.” He pressed his fingers softly against her lips, letting all of the relief he felt rise to their ends, where he knew she could feel it. “Just trust me.”
He held her tightly as the night drifted on, listening to the strange new hum inside his chest.
Death had given him the answer he needed, told him exactly how to convince his heart. Kael realized that, now. And though he was fairly certain it’d been more about meddling with Fate than anything, he didn’t mind it.
If being stuck in the middle of their war meant he’d get to spend an age with Kyleigh, that she would never have to feel the valtas’ sting … well, he would take it gladly.
*******
One morning, and after a particularly rowdy night, they dragged themselves from their chambers and stumbled into the kitchens — bedraggled and grinning to either ear.
“Good morning, Master Kael,” Mandy said cheerily, pressing a plate of breakfast into his hands.
“Guff mornin,” he replied — around a mouthful of toasted bread.
She shook her head at him before holding a plate out to Kyleigh. “And how are you today, Miss …? Oh, Miss Kyleigh!” Mandy gasped — so suddenly that Kael nearly choked on his eggs.
“Waff?”
“It’s my hair, isn’t it?” Kyleigh said, tugging at her wreck of a pony’s tail. “I promise I’ll try to fi
x it before Crumfeld sees.”
Even when she took her plate, Mandy still gaped at her. The maid’s eyes roved across her every feature … and her shock slowly bent into an open-mouthed smile. She waved Kyleigh to her chair. “You have a seat, Miss. I’ll fetch your tonic.”
Kyleigh frowned as she sat. “Tonic? What tonic?”
“You don’t have a fever,” Kael said. He slapped a hand against the back of her head to prove it.
She punched him hard in the shoulder.
Kael was about to flick a bit of toast at her when Mandy grabbed his wrist. “No, there’ll be no more of that. From now on, you’re going to have to be gentle with her.”
“Hmm, I’d rather he weren’t,” Kyleigh growled, with a look that not even a blind man could’ve possibly misread.
But before things could get out of hand, Mandy slammed an earthen cup on the table between them. “No. There’ll be no more punching or shoving or tearing the room to pieces. You need to drink your tonic and be careful, Miss. These first few weeks are always the trickiest.”
“The first few weeks of what?” Kael said.
No one answered him.
Mandy stood cross-armed and silent, while Kyleigh stared at her as if she’d just sprouted wings.
“It’s not possible.”
“It’s quite possible, Miss. In fact, it was bound to happen.”
“What’s not possible?”
“It’s not possible!” Kyleigh said sharply. She pushed the tonic away and stood. Before Kael even had a chance to turn, she’d marched out the door.
Mandy scowled after her. “She’s cross already … and it’s only going to get worse. But I wager she’ll come around in another month, once the sickness sets in. You keep a close eye on her, Master Kael,” she added with a sharp look. “Make sure she’s careful — for the baby’s sake.”
That time, Kael really did choke on his breakfast.
