An image came to me; a frightened girl with only a pretty jewelled knife to fight off a prowling beast. My Flame reached out a ghostly tendril of barely-there warmth, a half-hearted comfort to soothe the pain in my chest. Of course Caelen could not abide it. Of course he would seize any opportunity to end the rule of the family who had brutalised his own — and so many others.
I lay my head down on my crossed arms.
Sorcha’s hand was a gentle pressure between my shoulder blades; so familiar, and yet it brought me no comfort. I feared that nothing ever would again.
“They’ll have crowned the new King by now,” said Roy when the silence stretched too taut. I lifted my head to the thud of a fresh bottle hitting the table. “Let us drink to his health.”
He held my eye as he filled my glass and nudged it toward me.
“And his safe return,” he added softly.
I stared at him for one long moment.
Then I knocked back my drink.
Chapter Seventeen
The Duet
The dregs of winter swirled away into spring, and spring to summer. Of course, to Stormsby, it made little difference. Life carried on beneath the same grey skies day in and day out, just as it always had.
And yet, change came with the seasons.
The new King was crowned, and any tremulous whispers of a cruel reign ahead quickly faded with the cold winds. Laws were passed, and old ones torn down. The King’s first decree was that human beings throughout Qyelles should no longer be subject to classification. And if his momentous change of heart was confusing to his subjects, the people of Stormsby certainly didn’t dwell. It turned out that our little village had been something of a safe haven for magic users, and many of us had been living side by side our whole lives without ever knowing it. Postmaster Ginny, we learned, was a raven shifter, and had been intermittently soaring around Stormsby with our messages for years, quietly amused at our concern for her aging knees. The new King’s reignwas a blessing, she’d told me one morning, as she sat on Roy’s fence and stretched her great glossy wings
It was not, however, the only blessing bestowed upon Stormsby.The Mage and Rosewas under re-construction at the pleasure of the crown. A generous apology, the royal messenger had said, for the actions of the disgraced Kingsman who had burned our home to the ground and perished in the flames of his own violent act.
The workmen who came to clear the ruins worked fast, and the builders even faster. But in the meantime, Roy opened his home to us; all of us.
One large unlikely family, overlapping even within the clean open space of his beautiful farmhouse. Will, it turned out, was not nearly as quiet as he’d seemed on that first night. He was always the first to laugh, to fill a silence with his meandering and entirely charming stories. It surprised no one that Roy took comfort in Will’s familiar, effusive nature, and within weeks they were inseparable. I was grateful for the space it lent to me and Magnus to rebuild the bond that had been doused with his departure all those months ago.
We visited the site ofThe Mage and Roseday after day and bickered over paint colours and kitchenware. We watched together as the crown’s generosity erected something beautiful from the ashes. Something different. This was no longer the last echo of our parents’ Soul Song. It wasn’t the home they’d once dreamed of, content in their bond and with their whole lives ahead of them. No longer the gift a passionate firewitch had once bestowed upon the woman whose heart sang to his own.
It was something new; and a gift, all the same.
The morning after the builders finished work, Magnus, Sorcha and I rose early to tour the newMage and Rose.Stepping past that front door, I had cried for the first time since the night I woke with my Flame nearly doused and half my soul torn away.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I had managed, between great gulping breaths, while Sorcha and Magsexchanged worried looks.
“It’s overwhelming,” Magnus soothed. “It’s all so new.”
But that wasn’t it at all. Itwasnew, and yet – it held the shape of my childhood home, and so much more.
Thiswas the floor where I’d taken my first steps, once strewn with my mother’s lovingly woven rugs and now paved with gleaming white flagstone.Thatwas the corner, painted a new, warm marigold, where my father would drop to his knees so I could climb atop his shoulders to reach the top of the Yule tree. Where Caelan had stolen the star from my arms. Where Tanner had lain as the priest bestowed his final blessing.
Andherewas the chipped and battered bar, now polished to a high shine, where I would pour pints with Sorcha, stood across from Tanner and Roy. Where I would get lost in the easy rhythm of conversation that flowed between those three people I had slowly come to love in a time when love had left me so alone.
Butthere.
Therewas the closet, now with a glittering golden handle that opened onbothsides, where Caelan had kissed me for the first time.
“I think,” I said slowly, still trying to breathe through the hiccups. “I could do with a moment outside.”
“We’ll come with you,” Sorcha said at once, and Magnus stepped forward.
I waved them both off.
“No, go with Mags,” I said, waving her off sternly. “Magnus, show her the attic room. There’s a stained glass window now; you’re going to love it.”
