"I am," he said, "though you will find that you still hold my true name."
"Do I? Harsik," I said experimentally, and indeed it still sounded true and right. This seemed to please Braith so much that he could hardly keep his eyes open for it. "But why should I still have it, without the debt giving me a right to it?"
"You have a different right, that of a mate. I should mention that we are, in fact, married in the eyes of my people."
"We've had no ceremony."
"True, but the ceremony is... well, ceremonial, whereas our heartmating is measurably real. No dragon will question the legitimacy of the bond, though their approval of it may be harder to come by."
"My father will certainly require a ceremony. The execution of which will require his approval."
"Your father..." Braith looked, for a moment, more cowed than I had ever seen him, and I could not suppress a laugh.
"You and I will live to see my father, Braith! Let us think only of that, for now."
"A compelling point." He fell silent, tracing a finger back and forth across my cheek. It seemed as good a time as any to explore the warm silky dragon-scented hair falling down his shoulders. "Ari, do not think you are, at any time, obligated to stay with me. Though heartmates cannot put one another aside in the eyes of dragon society, still to my best knowledge distance has no effect on the bond's security; you will fare just as well if you never see me more."
"I must disagree with that statement. You could not survive long without me to supervise you, and then where would we be?"
He snorted and nipped at my fingers. "Very well, then, cheeky girl. Since you are so well recovered, get yourself out of bed and dressed, and get to work. All the others are busily packing their things in preparation for our departure."
EPILOGUE
Our horses waited in the dooryard, laden with riders, supplies, belongings, and even a cage full of chickens. Elaysius, feeling well enough to sing, if not fly, rode in a sort of palanquin behind Genevieve on her mount, and Bessie the milk-cow was tied to one of the calmer pack-horses. Even Firefoot had wandered home as we packed, almost before I had time to worry about him.
We had put out every fire, closed every window. Even with so much packed for travel, so many things remained—pots, tapestries, bedclothes, furniture. I packed the pitcher with Genevieve's portraits very carefully amongst my things, and told myself I could return for whatever I chose to desire, later. But I knew there would never be a reason to come back.
Save one.
I held Braith's hand as we mounted the hill to the graveyard. Profusions of flowers spilled from every grave, now, even the ghouls' mound, though the grandest display was reserved for Sir Marcus. Sweet Gareth had wept at the thought of leaving this place—his home, and his master's grave.
"We can come back whenever you like," Winifred said. "But first we must see Ariana home, do you not agree?"
Winifred, it appeared, was Gareth's guardian and caretaker now, and for the rest of his life. After the custom of her people, she had ventured into the world to find and bide with a human wizard, as this helped young unicorns learn to control their magic. Adopting the appearance of a horse during her search, Winifred had found the disguise impossible to throw off, until it even began to dull her mind to a horse-like level. Fortunately, Gareth had come into his powers in time to assist her.
"Gareth is both my master and my charge," she had told me. "Though most of his sort are very vulnerable in the world, you need have no fear for him. Not with a unicorn to guard his steps."
My faith in the caretaking powers of a unicorn whose stall I had mucked out for years was not, perhaps, as strong as it could be. Nevertheless, I was glad she would be looking out for him.
Gareth's work in the graveyard went beyond mere flowers; at Rindargeth's grave was an astonishment of a tree, an oak strong and solid as if it had been there for decades rather than hours, flame-colored leaves rustling in the chilly breeze.
I pulled off one red mitten to put a hand against the trunk, which, brown and rough and sun-warmed, might almost be thought to resemble the scales of a dragon. I miss you. Oh, friend, how can I bear to leave you here?
"You spoke, once, of returning for a proper funeral ceremony," I said, when Braith did not speak.
"That must come later," Braith said. "When the earth has absorbed all but his bones. The grave should not be disturbed until then."
"Do you still fear for his wandering soul?"
"Knowing that we both are free, and… and as dear to each other as he could ever have wished, cannot fail to give him strength."
"All the same," I said, "I should like to give him what support we might, before we go."
Braith nicked both our arms, and spoke the prayer, while I gazed down the hill at the empty tower, empty kitchen and empty stable. Already they looked abandoned and desolate to my eyes, salt wind keening around their roofs and walls. Beyond, the garden that would no more be tended, and the pounding ocean where I would not swim again.
Grief and panic threatened to choke me. How could I leave this place? Caibryn was but a half-forgotten dream; this was my home!
But even this place would not be as I remembered it. Rindargeth was gone; Genevieve was leaving to marry Tristan, Elaysius to return to his people; even Winifred wanted to wander, and Gareth would go along. I could not stay alone, nor even alone with Braith. The pain would be worse even than it was now, to have the trappings of this place and none of the family it had held.
I cried for a brief time, and Braith held me silently, patiently. When I had finished, he brushed my hair back from my face and pulled something from his pocket.
"I think you have been looking for this," he said, and opened his hand to reveal the amethyst ring that had belonged to my grandmother.
I covered my mouth, stunned. "I swear I turned the tower inside out—where did you find it?"
"Amongst the blankets of your bed."
I could only laugh, shaking my head. "Never so far away after all, were you?" I took the ring from his hand, clutching it tight. "They do say amethysts always come back home."
"I did not find the chain, but I don't think you need it. Can I?"
Unaccountably nervous, I nodded, and let him slide the ring onto my finger. He was right; it fit now. I gazed down at it for a long time, astonished to see how natural it appeared on my hand, as if it had always been there, although the weight of it felt strange. You will know when it is time to wear it, my father had said.
I slipped the hand with the ring into Braith's, keeping the other in its red mitten, and together we made our way down the hill, to our horses and our waiting friends.
It was time to go home.
If you enjoyed Ice & Smoke, you might also like the author's previous novel, Secondhand Shadow, an urban fantasy about a pregnant college student and her accidental pet vampire. Available for Kindle, Nook, and in paperback form.
Elizabeth Belyeu works as a librarian in Texas, and if she isn't writing, she's probably fangirling online. You can find her blog (and sign up for her newsletter!) at elizabethbelyeu.wordpress.com.
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