Steadfast
Page 38
She wandered about the dark room, moving in and out of the lantern light. To his eyes, she was a beam of sunshine. From the top of her golden head to her small feet hidden inside her sturdy boots. A tender soul with a tough exterior that he could only admire. A beacon of hope, his north star. His heart beat too fast as he waited.
She turned to face him. “When the Women of the Song die, they are burned, you know. Outside under the blue sky and in the fresh air. Like my mother. Like Errol and Bromisto.” Her face fell for a moment. “But . . . But I can see the comfort of having a place to go always to be with the people you miss.”
“Tending the tomb will give my mother comfort.”
“My people often plant gardens or a tree where our loved ones are set free. As you said, for comfort. It’s not so different.” She turned to face the pillar. “I suppose one could even be burned outside and the ashes stored in a place such as this.”
Something inside Ramiro eased. Claire understood. But the point of bringing her here wasn’t really about burial or cremation or even showing her where he’d been. “A compromise.” He had to force the next words out. “I know a wedding isn’t really of your culture.”
She was at his side in a moment, lying her hand on his chest. “But it is of yours. It means a lot to your family. And the Elders . . . well, they can accept it or they can get along without me. My grandmother understands. And I”—she ducked her head—“I want that permanence, too—after what we’ve been through.” Her head came back up. Blue eyes finding his brown. “I want everyone to know you belong to me.”
“Isn’t that the other way around?” he teased, then grew sober. He covered her hand with his. “It won’t be easy.”
“Who said I like easy?” Claire’s eyes snapped suddenly with determination. “We are like that pillar. Our families are the ceiling and the floor, and we are the bridge between them. We’ll live in both places, half the time here and the other half in the swamp. It won’t be easy. We may have to knock some heads.”
The edict his parents sent out formally thanking the Women of the Song would help. Enough people from different ciudades-estado had been there to see the Women of Song hold back Dal. As far as those people knew it had been their magic alone that had defeated the monster before it could kill them. Gratitude ran high toward the women formerly called witches. Claire and he would receive the benefit of that wave.
His smile echoed hers. “I could be persuaded to knock some heads once in a while.”
“I thought you could. Now, are you done having doubts?”
“I wasn’t having doubts. I wanted to make sure you weren’t.”
“And I think we are late to our own wedding,” she said. “Very late. After all the work your mother put into it. Not to mention Father Telo waiting to perform the ceremony. Should we go?”
He wanted to agree, but if the wedding wasn’t causing the change in her then what was? “Not just yet. Something has been bothering you. Was it something I did? Something someone said?”
She tried to shrug him off and retreat, denial on her lips, but he held on to her. “No wedding until you share whatever this is with me.”
“I . . . it’s nothing. Almost nothing. Not worth a worry. There was hearing your fate from Captain Gonzalo. That’s what mattered. And you’re happy with the new position taking care of Teresa, aren’t you?”
“Happy enough. But that’s not what’s bothering you. Out with it.” He gave her the no-nonsense glare he used on Beatriz, and she looked away. Her arms tightened on his ribs, squeezing harder with each second as if her grip on him kept her alive.
Time drew out and he thought she’d refuse him. “It’s the magic,” she choked out. “I managed not to kill with the Song the last time I used it, but I have before. It’s dark. And that makes me dark.” She released him with one arm, long enough to scrub at tears on her face.
He nuzzled her hair, holding her tight. “You’re not dark. Just the opposite. You don’t have to use your magic anymore if you don’t want to.”
Now her words came out in a rush. “I don’t think that will work. Your mother has all these plans for me. The Elders do as well. And I’m not sure it’s what I want, but what else can I do? I’ve no other skills to offer your people. I don’t think they need me to make soap. And I don’t want the Song to be that way anymore. Beatriz already suggested I work with you at protecting Teresa and Father Telo, as a type of soldier with magic, but that isn’t what I want.”
“Then what do you want?” he asked softly.
Her tear-stained face came up to meet his eyes. “If the Song can put bad things in people’s heads—to harm themselves—couldn’t it put good? People feeling sad or lonely. Couldn’t it cheer them—at least temporarily?”
He blinked at her, startled. She rushed on before he could recover. “That’s what I want to do now. Use the Song to help people, instead of deceive and manipulate them.” She snuggled close to him, hiding again, and he couldn’t help but smile.
“And you thought my mother would say no to this idea?”
“The Elders will.”
“I doubt that. A new use for your magic. I think they’ll be thrilled.”
“What do you think? I wouldn’t be working with you, exactly.”
“I think it suits you perfectly. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“The idea only came to me a few days ago, and I was waiting until after the wedding. I just didn’t want to have to be scared of using the Song anymore. I don’t want the magic to be an evil thing—like Dal.”
“It’s not. I’ll support whatever you want to do—if you want to stop with the magic or find another use for it. I’m here while you figure it out and after. Forever and always,” he said, echoing his parents’ pledge to each other.
The face she showed him now was radiant. “I like that. Forever and always. Can we hurry past the wedding and get to the forever part?”
They might be two cultures, but they had much in common—like getting this day over. And getting to tonight.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. It would kill my mother. Or she would kill me. But we can hurry and get through it together.”
Outside in Aveston, the fresh air still smelled like flowers and felt like carnaval. Even after two sevendays people hadn’t stopped randomly hugging each other in the streets or handing out mugs and glasses of commemorative liquor to each other. Fading blossoms in the streets were continually replaced with fresh. Ramiro could hear distant screams of children playing, loud as if to make up for all their recent silence. Banners thanking the saints still hung from windows. Though many of the people hadn’t returned yet, Aveston couldn’t get enough of celebrating the pullback of the Northern army.
The joy was contagious. A beaming smile covered Claire’s face as Valentía and Sancha came to greet them. The stallion had hesitated over Teresa or Claire but had ultimately adopted Claire as his own. Like the people, the caballos de guerra would recover their numbers also. Perhaps Sancha would have her first colt this time next year.
Despite their lateness, Claire wouldn’t mount her horse until she had a few more kisses, and he was only too happy to oblige. She untangled her fingers from his hair to caress his beard. “About this.”
He opened his eyes, breathing still a little ragged. “What about it?”
“Another compromise?”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that.” He drew her closer. “What were you thinking?”
“Never change it.”
He grinned. “That I can do.”
Acknowledgments
I think every fantasy writer since The Lord of the Rings dreams of the trilogy. Being given the chance to complete one has been a daunting and humbling experience. I really didn’t want to mess this up. I hope each book is better than the one before, and thanks to David Pomerico for giving me a chance to bring these characters to the end of their journey. May you love them for their faults as much as their perfections. David, thanks for let
ting me add yet another point of view character and giving me a pass on the rising word count.
I must put in a word for my agent, Marisa Corvisiero, for having my back and rising to the occasion.
Thanks are due also to my critique partner, Carla Rehse, for keeping me on the straight and narrow, and to Laura Heffernan for the unfailing support of a fellow writer. You both got me to the end. To all those who tweeted their enjoyment of these books my direction, your appreciation kept me going through the rough patches.
But the recognition for this book goes especially to my family. We had a year that tries men’s souls. I admire the strength of my mother, Mary Henry, and my sister, Tracy King. You’ve always been the model for characters like Beatriz and Claire. In addition, my kids continue to put up with a mom who sits at the keyboard for hours at a time. This time it was the kids giving the parent space.
And finally, to my husband, who is my Julian, I say, “now and forever.”
About the Author
MICHELLE HAUCK lives in the bustling metropolis of northern Indiana with her family. Besides working with special needs children by day, she writes all sorts of fantasy, giving her imagination free range. A bookworm, she passes up the darker vices in favor of chocolate and looks for any excuse to reward herself. She is the author of the YA epic fantasy, Kindar’s Cure, as well as the short story “Frost and Fog,” which is included in the anthology Summer’s Double Edge.
Find her on twitter under @Michelle4Laughs or her blog Michelle4Laughs: It’s in the details www.michelle4laughs.blogspot.com.
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By Michelle Hauck
Birth of Saints Trilogy
Grudging
Faithful
Steadfast
Kindar’s Cure
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
steadfast. Copyright © 2017 by Michelle Hauck. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, 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 hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.
Digital Edition DECEMBER 2017 ISBN: 978-0-06-244720-3
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-244721-0
Cover design by Amy Halperin
Cover images: © Pali Rao/E+/Getty Images (knight); © Shutterstock (background)
Harper Voyager, the Harper Voyager logo, and Harper Voyager Impulse are trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers.
HarperCollins is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
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