by Giles Carwyn
Astor nodded, hugging his sister as tightly as he could. The three of them clung together, Baedellin resting in their arms, her head warm against Astor’s chest.
They remained that way until a noise at the door made Astor look up. Galliana entered the room and sat on the bed next to them. Her fingers slipped into Astor’s hand, and she said, “It’s the same, all through the Citadel. They’re all waking up.”
“The weeping ones?”
“Not weeping anymore,” she said. “They have returned.”
“We were lost in the dark,” Baedellin said. “Shara and Brophy showed us the way home.”
Epilogue
It was well after dark when Baedellin rowed Shara up to the little dock Brophy had built on the sandy shore of their island.
Bae held the water bug steady as Shara stepped onto the sturdy planks. Every inch of the dock was meticulously polished blue-white Ohndarien marble. She doubted anyone had ever spent so much loving effort to build a dock, but that was how Brophy had been these last few months. He took gentle care with everything he did, and would not be rushed.
Baedellin turned her water bug about and waved, assuring Shara that she’d be back at first light. Shara thanked her for the ride, turned, and started up the path to their cottage. The path was paved with stones from the far side of their island. Brophy had quarried them all himself.
Shara paused, took off her shoes, and started climbing again. Last week she’d discovered that he had begun inscribing playful little messages to her in some of the stones, and she liked her feet to touch them as she passed.
A silhouette of their house rose against the backdrop of a starry sky, and she stopped at the closed door. She put her palm flat against the wood, sanded fine and painted by Brophy. It had been his very first task when he’d returned, and it bore a simple painting of two feathers hanging from the same cord.
She touched the image gently before entering the dark cottage. She lit a lamp, crossed to the fireplace, and built a fire. In no time, the little house was warm and cozy.
Putting her pack aside, she slipped out of her clothes and into bed under the heavy sheepskin lined with linen. As she laid her head back on the goose-down pillow, the events of the day sifted through her mind as they always did before sleep.
News of King Phanqui’s coronation arrived from Physendria today. As a rebel leader and royalty from the time before Phandir’s fall, Phanqui had been the front-runner in the grab for the crown once the Summermen left the city. But at least five other rivals still claimed rights to it, half of whom were campaigning to attack the Summer Cities while they were still weak.
Thankfully, Phanqui knew what a mistake that would be. He was a good man and would wrangle the others into shape eventually. His first royal decree had been to start up the Nine Squares again. That would keep his bloodthirsty young rivals distracted for a while.
She’d had dinner with Lawdon and Mikal tonight before she returned to the cottage. They’d fought again, but that was nothing new. The two of them fought constantly. They seemed proud of the number of arguments they could manage to have in the course of one day. Lawdon insisted that Mikal go south to help keep the peace while Phanqui’s reign was still in its infancy. Mikal was one of the few remaining Summer Princes, and during his stay in Physendria, he had somehow succeeded in befriending many of the rebel leaders. He had been instrumental in the peaceful withdrawal of the Summermen forces, and had become good friends with Phanqui. And if there was anyone who could turn the vengeful Physendrians into drinking buddies, it was Mikal.
But he refused to travel before Lawdon had the baby, even though she had six months left in her pregnancy.
Shara knew that Lawdon was secretly proud of Mikal’s obstinacy. The louder she complained, the more she approved, it seemed, and Mikal knew it. He had winked at Shara while weathering Lawdon’s tirade, made every manner of apology, and stubbornly refused to change his mind.
Shara had been pleasantly surprised by the two of them. Months ago Lawdon and Mikal had moved into an abandoned house high on Eastridge. Shara had thought the former water bug would never leave the sea or settle in Ohndarien again, but Lawdon seemed perfectly happy to spend her days herding her younger siblings and arguing with Mikal. The woman even made a fantastic lamb stew these days. Who would have thought?
Shara yawned, and her thoughts slowed. She closed her eyes.
Of course she’d have to visit the King of Faradan very soon. His grain prices this season were exorbitant.
And Galliana was slowly putting the Zelani school back together. Shara should really spend more time with the new students—
She yawned again.
The early days were the most critical. And then there was…
Her thoughts slipped away, and Shara fell into a pleasant sleep.
A soft hand on Shara’s cheek brought her to the surface of her dreams.
“Hello, beautiful,” Brophy whispered, slipping under the comforter.
She rolled over and wrapped her arms around him, keeping her eyes shut. “You’re clothed,” she murmured, nuzzling his ear. His curly hair tickled her nose.
“Am I?”
“And drunk.” She laughed, smelling the wine on his breath.
“Why, yes I am,” he said proudly.
She chuckled and finally opened her eyes. “You must have had a busy day,” she said, kissing his neck.
“I had a promise to keep. A man should keep his promises.” He yawned. “And I am a man of my promises.”
“What were you doing?”
“Bottles. Astor and I snagged two bottles of Summer wine. We made a fire in the boulder field on south ridge and drank them both.”
“Very impressive.”
“Yes. And we drank them both. And we talked about girls.”
She laughed. “Really?”
“Absolutely.”
“And what do you two know about girls?”
“Practically nothing.”
She laughed again.
“But we both decided that we are thoroughly in favor of them,” he said.
“Good. I’m glad that’s settled.”
Brophy kissed her again, on the mouth, on the chin, on her neck. She arched her back as he bit her lightly. She reached down and pulled his shirt over his head. He pushed the covers off her and slid between her legs. The soft leather of his pants was pleasantly cool on her warm, bare skin.
“I love you, Brophy,” she said.
“And I love that you are very, very naked right now,” he murmured.
She laughed lightly. “I just realized today that it was almost nineteen years ago when we were sailing from Physen to the Cinder and first talked about running away to a little cabin someplace. I can’t believe we finally made it.”
“We’re doing pretty good, aren’t we?”
She smiled. “For a hog butcher’s daughter and a stupid kid without the sense to dodge a rock, yeah, we’re doing pretty good.”
He leaned over her, kissing her neck again. “Now, about this nakedness thing,” he murmured, his kisses shifting to the base of her throat, then between her breasts, slowly moving lower. He smelled of wood smoke, cheap wine, and the sea. But mostly he smelled like something she’d never known before.
He smelled like home.
Acknowledgments
FROM TODD:
Thanks to my wife, Lara, for being my inspiration, always. And thanks once again to Amy and Tiana, who kept an eye on our children while Lara was working and I was running through the May Dragon trees.
FROM GILES:
Thanks again to Tan for carrying the load while I was the invisible man. And thanks to Todd for sharing yet another adventure with me beginning to end.
FROM THE BOTH OF US:
Thanks to our advance readers Liana Holmberg, Aaron Brown, Elliot Davis, Kristen Maresca, Jessica Meltzer, Megan Foss, and “The Sparkling Hammers” Aaron, Chris, Leslie & Morgen. Thanks once again to Langdon Foss for his outstanding drawin
gs of Ohohhom and Efften. Thanks to our agent, Donald Maass, for his continued passion for this story. Thanks to Diana, our editor, for her input on this book and for being so patient as we blew past too many deadlines. And thanks to Stephen Youll for his outstanding cover art. No friendships were destroyed in the writing of this book.
About the Authors
TODD FAHNESTOCK and GILES CARWYN met in high school nineteen years ago. Within an hour of meeting, they started a philosophical conversation they haven’t been able to finish yet. Their nomadic lifepaths have crisscrossed again and again. Through the years they have dated the same women, been best man at each other’s weddings, and attended the births of each other’s children. They currently live twenty-five blocks from each other in Littlewood, Colorado, with their stunning wives, Lara and Tanya, and their freakishly well-named children: Liefke, Elowyn, Luna, and the Dash-man.
www.carwynfahnestock.com
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
BY GILES CARWYN AND TODD FAHNESTOCK
THE HEARTSTONE TRILOGY
Heir of Autumn
Mistress of Winter
Queen of Oblivion
Credits
Maps and drawings by Langdon Foss; langdonfoss.com
Jacket design by Ervin Serrano
Jacket illustration by Thomas Thiemeyer
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
QUEEN OF OBLIVION. Copyright © 2008 by Giles Carwyn and Todd Fahnestock. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Microsoft Reader October 2008 ISBN 978-0-06-172252-3
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