As he spoke there was a flutter of wings as songbirds came drifting in from the open sky, landing on his head and shoulders. He looked over his shoulder at me and his eyes softened.
“And I believe you have a gift for her, fire of my eyes?”
I felt my brow furrow and I tried to think, but no answer came to me. What gift would I have to offer? I looked down at myself, thinking perhaps one of the daggers might suffice.
“It is gift enough that she is no longer dogged by that grim pet of hers,” Sparrow said lightly, but she was watching me, too, not yet standing as she awaited my gift.
“A name, I think, that you no longer require now that you find yourself to be wife of the Bramble King,” Bluebeard prompted me and I gasped.
“Lady Riverbarrow,” I realized as I said it. He was giving her his landhold, wasn’t he? Bequeathing it to her as if he had died, which of course he had, but he was alive again now. Alive and king. And that meant he must relinquish direct reign over his former landhold.
I met Bluebeard’s eyes and saw the sadness there, lingering, like watching your former home from decades past. And then he reached into his shirt and drew out a pendant — the very one I had worn with the pearl of Riverbarrow strung on it — and he passed it to me and I offered it to Sparrow.
She took the pendant, smiling. “I knew that in the end, you would conquer all your foes, Lord Arrow.”
“Of course you did,” Bluebeard said lightly. “How could I not?”
And I barely managed to hold back a laugh at how light his tone was over such a very narrow miss.
“And as you took on the risk of my defeat and with it lost your immortality, so I give now to you, your portion of the reward. Your Wittenbrand life is returned to you, and with it my lands, the lordship over Riverbarrow from the boundary of the northern snows to the southern heat, from the western mountains to the eastern sea. I offer to you the care of my people and disposition of the wealth and power inherent in this place. Along with all of it, I bequeath to you the name Arrow. Fly from my bow, Lady Arrow, and accomplish for me all the things that must be made so from beginning to end.”
He took her hand and drew her up on her feet, and I couldn’t help my pang of jealousy as he put his hand on her shoulder and escorted her out of the pavilion and then stepped to the edge of it, drew from the waves a great horn, and blew it soundly.
As if they had been waiting for this exact moment, his people appeared. Small and strange, great and shambling, they came. Toads in top hats and mice in waistcoats, strange branch-and-root creatures that shuffled across the ground, a massive creature large as a tower made entirely of rock and her two sons also made of rock, a pair of dragonflies, and an elderly beaver carrying a spear, and more besides, each odder and wilder and further from the mortal world than the last.
And when all had assembled, Bluebeard stood before them and simply breathed, in and out. They waited for him, seeming to hold their breaths, but with every breath he took, I realized things were changing. The creatures grew larger and stronger and brighter, backs straightening, bodies healing from wounds I had not noticed, eyes brightening. And with each breath, the world around them greened and flourished, and they began to dance and sing as more and more of them came, being healed and made whole.
This, then, was what they had been pleading for when they had come to him in his home. One who looked like a tree winked at me as he passed by and all placed a kiss — or something like a kiss — on Sparrow’s hand and she looked both eager and shy all at once as they processed past her, making their obeisances. This was the healing they’d asked for. This was the restoration.
Each time I glanced around me, Riverbarrow was brighter and more flourishing, the river swelling, the trees growing before my eyes, flowers bursting from the ground and fruiting, pink returning to the cheeks of children, and a bounce coming back to their elders’ steps.
It was like watching Spring come to the world in a single hour instead of months, and my heart swelled to it. I felt the warmth of pride when I looked to my husband who was fulfilling all his promises to his land and people. They would be well now. And they would be happy.
“My folk,” Bluebeard said gravely when they seemed to be all assembled and they crowded around him with a familiarity I envied, some going so far as to sit on his shoulders and head, as he spoke and others crowding right up against his legs, one large furry horse with her head bumping against his shoulder so often that he had to fight to keep his balance. “You pled with me for mercy and it is yours. You asked for prosperity, I have given it to you four times over. My heart would have been very glad to go on being your lord, to lead you through this dawning age of delight and prosperity, but my place is with all of the Wittenhame now, and thus it is not to be. And so I offer to you Sparrow, once my captain of war, now my captain of peace, first a member of my Court of Fools, then a counselor of the wise when my wife sought aid, now pledged to me and to you as the Arrow, the shot of the Bramble King out into the world. May she strike true and strike down your fears and worries.”
There was a cheer — a strange one as it came from the lips of both men and beasts — and it rippled out from among them and Bluebeard lifted his voice and said, “The Lady Riverbarrow has taken my place as Lord and as your river. May her reign over you be blessed and may I offer both her and you this one last gift.”
And then he closed his eyes and opened his hands and flowers burst up from every plant and tree and ripened and exploded into fruit — all kinds, all at once — raspberries and strawberries, peaches and apples, watermelon, and honeydew, and grapes and I was still in awe when he whispered loudly to Sparrow.
“They all have wine at the core. Your festivities tonight will be the envy of every landhold in the Wittenhame.”
And to my surprise, I realized she was crying. At first, I thought it was from gratitude, but after a heartbeat, I realized he was crying too, and he leaned over suddenly and wrapped an arm around me, gently displacing the creatures who had been resting on him, and it was only when he spoke that I understood.
“I will not see you again, my people. This place is hidden from all but those of Riverbarrow, and though my life and strength will sustain you, this is no longer solely my realm. I will visit you here only as Bramble King. But I wish for you untold blessings, for by your faithfulness and steadfastness you have remained mine through ash and dust, and so now you must reap fruit, wine, and happiness with the guardian I have set up for you.”
And he nodded once to Sparrow — the new Arrow and Lady Riverbarrow — a brisk nod of finality.
And then a cloud of songbirds poured in from every direction and swept us up and away, and I was not at all surprised when my husband’s arms wrapped tight around me and turned me so he could bury his face in my belly, ignoring the sharp blades of my skirt or how the chains tried to catch on his crown of brambles as he shook with what I thought might be the tearing pain of walking away from a place that had anchored him from a time before Pensmoore was even an inkling in the mind of King Pen.
I knew this feeling. I’d felt it myself, not just once, but twice when I was ripped from the family I loved into the arms of the unknown. I felt my own eyes smarting as I felt the echo of his pain through his mental voice and I leaned into it, caressing his silken hair and whispered into his ear.
“All things pass, but some things remain.”
“Remain with me then, wife,” he whispered into my ribs and I let my hands drift to his sides and hitch him a little closer to show that I agreed. And though I was comforting him, I had never felt so comforted myself as his lightly furred arms — stronger than tree roots and just as hard where they wrapped around me — gave me the feeling of being encircled and guarded all around. His tears, though they soaked my white dress, felt like spring rains. They brought with them the certainty that something old was passing and something new was yet to be discovered.
“I will remain with you all the days of our lives, my Bluebeard.”
“Do not forget that name, fire of my eyes,” he whispered and I felt the move and pull of his lips through the cloth of my dress against my sensitive ribs. “For I am quickly losing every name and title ever bequeathed to me except this last one, and though I must become the Bramble King, it pains me to lose what I once was.”
