“Rose!” a woman’s voice called from a distance.
Marcus looked up toward the voice.
Rose glanced back toward the farm and turned, clutching the doll in one hand and the little basket in the other, and skipped merrily down the road toward the farmhouse with the sun rays bouncing off her ringlets.
Marcus watched her for a long moment. Tears gathered in his eyes, and he dropped his gaze to the ground where the child had left her old doll. He picked it up and scanned its frayed yarn hair and faded hand-stitched dress. He lifted his gaze to watch Rose run down the narrow road reluctant to let her go. A cloud of dust rose in her wake as the wind swirled through the wheat fields on either side.
“Rose!” her mother called again.
He waited until the little girl reached the woman standing in the doorway. They spoke, and the child handed her the basket of tomatoes. He could imagine how confused Emma would be until she found the sack of gold hidden inside the basket. Then, she would know who it was from and what the gold was for.
Marcus was grateful he got one last glimpse of his little Rose, yet an agonizing ache wrung his heart. He longed to raise her as his own, but the thought of causing untold trauma to the precious child by ripping her from the only parents she had ever known filled him with anguish too great to bear. Taking Rose would mean crushing his beloved sister Emma’s heart forever, something he could never bring himself to do.
He took a few steps, then stopped and slowly turned around at the sound of horse hooves clomping in his direction. The air filled with a swirl of dust as the horse stopped, and the rider leaped from her back. The cloud encircled them, blocking his view for a few moments until it finally settled, and Emma stood before him.
“Marcus,” she gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief.
He nodded, words escaping him.
Every bit of air was sucked away as time seemed to stand still. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.
He looked down at the doll he still clutched in his hands. “She’s beautiful,” he whispered.
Emma desperately lunged forward, wrapping her arms tightly around him.
He clung to her, resting his cheek against the top of her head, savoring this fleeting moment, knowing this was the last time he would ever see her.
“It’s too much,” she whispered against his chest.
“Give her everything,” he said softly against the top of her head. “Give her what I couldn’t.” He withdrew, and his vision blurred with tears and pain, unable to focus on the woman before him.
Her cheeks were wet. “You’re not coming back.”
“No,” he agreed in a thick voice.
As they stared at each other, they were engulfed in a despairing silence.
He reluctantly retreated a step, knowing he had to leave. “Take care of my little Rose, Emma.”
She assented with a promise. “I will.”
He pivoted toward Sage, who waited on horseback at the hilltop. As he neared, she nodded in approval. He swung himself onto the horse and gathered Sage close, holding her tighter than he needed to but not as tight as he wanted. She was his life now, and he was finally ready to begin it.
Epilogue
Sage stared at the parchment pageon the table before her, her brow furrowed. Picking a lock was infinitely easier than trying to crack codes. She certainly didn’t have to do it, but it kept her mind active, and she usually enjoyed the challenge. She sat back with a sigh and leaned her head against the back of the chair. Marcus said she was searching for the next adventure. But the life she now led was proving to be the best adventure of her life.
She remembered when she had first married Marcus, and they purchased a small farm. Despite her initial reservations, the peacefulness of the rural setting had won her over. When she grew weary of it, she retreated to the room they had converted into a library. She was always looking for the next book to add to her collection. It was the quiet life Marcus had always wanted, and she couldn’t complain. He spent his time tending the crops, and occasionally, she would find him practicing his sword skills in the fields. She adored him and looked forward to the day they started a family.
Like Willow had. She was almost four months pregnant with her second child, and her firstborn, John, was learning to crawl. Sage was certain Willow and Christian would have more children. They had built a large cottage down the road from Sage. Christian helped out where he could in town but, more often than not, could be found sharpening his sword at his home, watching as Willow sat in a field amidst flowers, telling magnificent tales of bravery and chivalry to the town’s children who adored her. Christian had finally started the family he deserved.
Landyn helped the town blacksmith when he got the chance, transforming raw iron into gleaming works of art. He was a natural at crafting beautiful swords. Raven and Landyn had wed, constructing a cottage nearby.
Raven had the hardest time fitting into their new life. Besides tending to her three horses, her days were a mixture of monotony and unfamiliarity as she tried to adapt. Sage could tell that, although she had a smile on her face, Raven longed to belong.
“Sage,” Marcus called, poking his head into the room. “You have to see this.”
Grateful for the break, Sage rose and quickly followed him out of the farmhouse and down the road.
