by Dave Skinner
“It would be my pleasure, sir.” Bray handed over the swords.
“I know who you are,” the man told him. “Return to Nadia, and assume your rightful place.”
“I no longer wish to see Nadia again.” Bray looked at the dead body of the prince. “I remember now, I never liked him.” Shouldering his pack comfortably he started away, but stopped, and turned back. “Use his money to pay for the damages. Losers always pay.”
Chapter 61
Lee wiped the tears from her eyes. She always cried when she visited this spot, the place Shawn had died. The village had raised three cairns to mark it. She was kneeling by Shawn’s. A new bunch of wild flowers adorned his marker.
“I miss him still,” someone said behind her.
She spun around on her knees. Bray stood there. Evidence of a long road lay heavy on his shoulders, and there was something else … a maturity maybe or a sense of … peace. She also noticed the slight squint of his eyes caused by the expression he wore, an expression of what? Longing? Hope? He dropped his pack and knelt in front of her.
“I hope that someday you will be able to forgive me, Lee.”
She threw her arms around his neck, “Oh, brother, I forgave you months ago. Now, please tell me you have come home.”
“Yes, I have come home, Lee, for a while anyway. I must become a trueone if I wish to be a Tawshe Traveller.”