Daymon found her, then, and though his arms surrounded her, nothing could erase the ache and the knowledge that Manders's death was, at least in part, her own fault. If she had instructed the animals better, if she had somehow gotten through the obstacles that stood between herself and Malachi, then surely he would be here, smiling his gentle smile at her, his calm presence a source of comfort in her life.
Bryan and Wynn were ecstatic to see their daughter again. Alayne had been wondering if they would be; Jayme had been so adversely affected when he'd been released after nearly a year of being Casted that she couldn't help but wonder if her parents would react the same way.
But it was not the case. “Jayme was a primary pawn in Tarry's move for an EA takeover,” Wynn said over dinner one evening. “She poisoned his mind against the Quadriweave, so that even afterward, the effects didn't wear off. She didn't bother with us; we were only ever bait for you. Besides, Layne,” Wynn smiled, her eyes shining with unshed tears, “she couldn't poison true love. Her darkness could only reach so far. Jayme liked you, but he never loved you—not with soul-binding, pure love. There's a difference, and in that difference, Tarry failed. There's nothing she could have done that would have tainted our love for you.”
Both Bryan and Wynn kept touching her as if to assure themselves that she was real and not a figment of their imagination. They hoped to return to Skyden soon to begin straightening up the mess there, but planned to stay at Clayborne at least a few weeks with Alayne before leaving.
Alayne was glad. She'd spent too much time away from them in the last two years. It was wonderful to take long walks with them and talk as she used to do.
The High Court and its judicial system were a thing of the past, and most of the Justices had fled in the wake of the battle at Clayborne. The Continent was a roiling, seething mass of rage as those who had opposed the Alliance's agenda gained the courage to speak out without fear of retribution, and those who still clung to the EA's tenets of control and uncontested power clashed with them in the streets. In a matter of days, the entire political climate shifted. Continental Media, swayed by the winds of change, featured story after story of the horrors of the Alliance, and riots rocked the districts of the Capital.
Alayne watched the news footage with an exhausted stare. Rachyl had made the reports; her clear eyes and calm voice had given Chadwick Jones a concise account of what the Last Order had undergone to bring justice and equality to the Naturals.
A week after the battle, Alayne stood on the shuttle platform, looking across the open prairie far below her. She jumped when she heard a sound behind her.
“Don't fall.” Marysa quickly grabbed her arm. “You don't have control of the air elements anymore, and after all you've been through, it would be tragic to die now.” Her mouth curved up into a grin.
Alayne laughed lightly. “Don't think you can get rid of me that easily.”
“Seriously, though, do you miss not having the other elements at your beck and call? Having mastered them like you did, and now not being able to, doesn't it make you feel a little—off, maybe? I think it would make me feel strange. I mean, I never had control of all the elements like you did, but I like to think that if I had ever been a Water-Wielder, say, like you are, and then had to let go of that particular element...”
Alayne listened to Marysa's prattle with delight. It was wonderful to have her best friend back again. She had been far too serious in the last year, but now that everything had been resolved, her quirkiness had reappeared.
“Beatrice Pence is in prison with like, twenty life sentences, thank goodness, and under much heavier guard this time by Last Orders who are trained to withstand Shadow-Casting, so hopefully CommonEarth is rid of her forever. And Rachyl's apprenticing in the Capital now, too, did you know? The High Court's gone, thanks to you, but they're rebuilding now. Rachyl's uncle is, of course, fired. Obviously. But since she had shown such leadership qualities in the Last Order, some of the higher up Justices asked her to come work for them. Someday, she'll probably be on the High Court bench herself, or even follow in her uncle's footsteps—as Leader—despite his disgrace.”
Alayne nodded, then shook her head. “I hadn't heard about Rachyl's successes, but that's great. She'll be close to her home, too. What about Eryc Connel? Have you heard about him?”
“He's going back to Andova for the next year, and then Luke Manders offered him a job back at your City Centre—”
“What about his relationship with Rachyl?”
“They're still together, but she wants to focus on her apprenticeship for this year at least. And Skyden isn't that far from the Capital by shuttle. I'm sure it'll work out; they've been through worse. Luke and Eryc are getting into landscaping.”
“Landscaping?” Alayne burst out with a laugh.
“Yeah. Eryc's a talented Earth-Mover, and Luke's a Fire-Breather, which gives him some control over the temperature. They can make some amazing flowers grow no matter what the climate.”
“And what about you and Jayme?” Alayne asked with a sly glance at her friend.
Marysa blushed. “We'll stick around here for a while. Since they're actually trying to turn this into a school year at Clayborne, we might graduate from here yet.”
“Have you managed to contact your parents and the rest of your family?”
Relief shuddered across Marysa's expression. “Yes, and oh, Layne, I'm so relieved. You can just imagine my feelings when I got the first MIU message from them. They're coming to see me tomorrow, and I know they'll want to see you, too. They never had to enter an NRC, thank heavens, but they've been in hiding for months while they stayed below Tarry's radar.”
Alayne nodded. “I'm glad.” Silence fell before Alayne tossed a teasing grin at Marysa. “So, what are your plans for you and Jayme after Clayborne?”
Marysa shrugged, suddenly shy. “I don't know, honey. We'll have to see.”
A solitary figure moved along the river far below. Alayne recognized his familiar shape. She hesitated, but Marysa laughed.
“Go on, Layne. I'll talk to you tonight.”
Alayne smiled sheepishly and entered the chute. At the bottom, she stepped through the doors as they slid open. Kyle sat with his back against the wall, throwing pebbles onto the sidewalk. He didn't glance up.
“Kyle,” Alayne began, unsure what to say. “Um, thanks.”
Kyle tossed another pebble. “For what?”
Alayne glanced down the river to where Daymon stood, his back to her, facing the setting sun.
“Well, for proving to me that you were who I thought you were in the first place.”
A humorless smile twisted Kyle's lips. “Apparently, you see me more clearly than I see myself.”
Alayne didn't reply.
“Alayne, I always knew it was wrong. The whole time. I have no excuse to offer, nothing I can say to make it better, except—it was you all along who brought me back.”
Alayne shifted her gaze to the ground at her feet, feeling awkward.
Bitterness crept into Kyle's voice. “The two things I wanted most, I thought I could have, but as things happened, I realized I was struggling to push together two opposite ends of a CommonEarth-wide polarization, and there I stood frozen in the middle. If I went to one extreme or another, I'd have all of one person's love, but completely lack the other.” He looked down at his hands, the pebbles beside him forgotten. “But I wanted both. And now, my parents will never love me like I wanted.” He went on with a shuddering breath. “And neither will you.”
Alayne crouched beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. “Kyle,” she murmured. “I wish—”
He cut her off with a jerk of his hand. “Don't say it. I don't want your pity. I know you don't feel the same; I know I lost you a long time ago, and I'll have to live the rest of my life with that knowledge. But I just wanted you to know that you're the reason I'm where I'm at right now.”
He pushed himself to his feet and stretched. “Think I'll t
ake a jog now. Have a good walk with—him.” He jerked his head toward Daymon and broke into an easy jog.
Alayne watched him go, regretful for his choices, but aware that in the end, she would have chosen as she did anyway. She walked toward Daymon.
He heard her coming, his grin lighting his face as he turned to her.
She stopped beside him, and he pulled her against his side. He reached for her wrist to examine it.
The faint remains of a red line where he'd performed the blood ritual was the only evidence of the act. Slowly, he brushed his lips over the line, and then he gently lifted her shirt just to see the other crimson scar. His fingers traced over it lightly. Alayne had trouble pulling air into suddenly empty lungs.
“How, Daymon?” The question had burned inside Alayne all week, but the time had never seemed right to ask.
Daymon tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “When my mother placed the Vale inside you, Alayne, she was the Quadriweave, the possessor of the Vale. Any other time in history when the Vale was taken from the possessor, the person died, because the Vale sort of 'vacuumed' the person of all four elements when it left. But the difference between you and all other Quadriweaves was that the Vale was given to you. All others got it by force, theft, bargaining, whatever. They never had it as a gift.”
“But I didn't want it.”
Daymon shook his head. “That's what makes all the difference. It was a gift, and when my mother put it into your body, she inserted some of her own extra control over the elements into your body as well. When I cut the Vale out, it should have done the same to you as it did to all other Quadriweaves—it should have sucked all four elements out of you until you literally disappeared element by element, but Layne, the Vale was a gift. You didn't want it or ask for it. So that gave you one extra barrier of protection from the usual effects of the Vale. It didn't control you completely, and because of that, there was always a place deep inside you that the Vale couldn't touch—a place that was wholly you—so you had a refuge inside you where you could go even after the Vale tried to take you element by element.”
Alayne stared at him. “How could you have known all this, though, Daymon? You risked your life by this when you cut out the Vale.”
Daymon pulled her against his chest, looking down at her, a smile tilting the corners of his mouth. “I risked it because I know you love me, Layne—a love that's unaffected by the Vale. In that place inside of you that the Vale couldn't reach—that's where your love for me lived. And that's why I had to be the one do to the blood ritual.”
Alayne's eyebrows rose.
Daymon trailed a finger down her cheek. “I was trusting—banking on the fact—that your love for me came from that deep place inside you, not from the Vale—because the ritual wouldn’t have worked otherwise.”
“Wouldn't have—Daymon, that was—a big risk!”
“It paid off, don't you think?” He grinned, and Alayne couldn't help smiling back. Amazement flooded her thoughts. It had really worked; their love had conquered the Vale. The Vale had offered an attraction between the Guardian and the Quadriweave, but Alayne and Daymon's love was vibrant, strong, and deeply rooted—growing from an unreached space deep inside both of them—and the Vale couldn't touch that.
Alayne traced a finger along the top of Daymon's shoulder, her mind moving back to the blood ritual Daymon had performed. “Why did you have to cut my wrists open in the first place?” she asked.
“That was part of what my uncle told me.” A shadow passed over his face as he thought of Manders. “The Vale could only be taken out voluntarily by the blood of the one who gave it, or at least that's what legend dictated. Of course, my mother is no longer here, but I, as her blood lineage, was able to carry it out. The blood ritual acted almost like a fifth element that overcame the other four elements.” He shrugged. “Love.”
Alayne's eyebrows arched upward on her forehead. “Love is the fifth element?”
Daymon nodded, his clear blue eyes glinting as he watched her. “The power of love overcame the Vale. Uncle Luke couldn't have done it, even though he's of my mother's blood. It had to be me. No one else would have had the will to overcome it completely.”
Alayne stared up at him, suddenly overwhelmed by everything. Slowly, she leaned forward and laid her head on his chest, her thoughts still whirling.
His arms tightened around her. “Alayne Catherine Worth.” His voice brought her gaze up to his once more.
He started to speak, but Alayne beat him to it. “I love you, Daymon.”
He nodded slowly. “I know.” He reached up to brush her cheek, and then he wrapped his arms around her, hefting her up until her feet dangled in the air.
“I know,” he breathed again, and his mouth found hers, parting her lips, searching, discovering new ways to delight and be delighted.
They spent the evening racing along the river as she splashed watery shapes across the bank, and he swirled them in tunnels of air. This was how it would be for the rest of time, Alayne thought. The two of them, working together to create magic.
Epilogue
Alayne trailed her fingers through the swirling, foaming current, and the spark that shocked her skin when she touched liquid swirled up her arm to her shoulder and her spine. She shivered.
“Cold?” Daymon asked quietly, and Alayne smiled.
He did that often, slid up behind her unnoticed, but she was never startled. He had become so much a part of her that she could sense him even when he wasn't present with her.
“A little,” she murmured. “I can't master the heat elements anymore.”
“I can't either, but I can warm you up anyway,” he said, sitting behind her and sliding his legs on the outside of hers, wrapping his arms firmly around her waist. Alayne turned her head, brushing her mouth over his. When she turned back to face the water, he buried his face into the side of her neck.
Something was off.
“What's the matter?” she asked, tensing.
Daymon sighed. “My uncle Luke sent me a message. Beatrice Pence was found dead in her cell this evening.”
“No!” Alayne gasped, turning to fully face Daymon. “What happened? Was she murdered, or was it self-inflicted?”
Daymon reached for Alayne's hands. His head dipped, avoiding her look. “Daymon?”
He cleared his throat and raised his gaze to hers. “It—it was Kyle.”
Alayne's jaw hung slack.
Kyle! Not Kyle. It couldn't have been. Kyle had made his peace with his situation. How could he have gone so far? He wouldn't—couldn't—kill his own mother, could he? Though the woman had treated him like dirt his entire life, surely he wouldn't have gone that far.
“Are—are you sure? They've caught him?”
“Worse. He's—they killed—”
“No!” Alayne couldn't handle it. “Don't say it.”
“Alayne, he betrayed you. Us. He betrayed all of us.”
Alayne shook her head, tears flooding her eyes. She buried her face in her hands. Of course, he had betrayed them all, but he'd tried, in his own limited way, to redeem himself. He'd been disgusted with her pity, but she had given it nonetheless. Her heart broke all over again as she thought of his unfulfilled existence, his thwarted hopes, the attention and love he'd sought.
Daymon stood and pulled her to her feet, cradling her gently against him as she cried into his shirt. The water's cheerful gurgle had somehow turned into a mournful dirge, and it accompanied Alayne's tumbling thoughts. Daymon soothingly rubbed her back, saying nothing, simply being the rock he was for her.
He was no longer a boy, bitter with the cards he'd been dealt. He was a man now. Gone were the years of his guardianship of the Vale. Now, he was independent of it, choosing to love her without reference to something that should have no say over their wills. Alayne couldn't imagine her life without him.
Something dropped onto the rock with a tiny metallic clink.
Alayne pulled back, but Daymon was faster. He b
ent down and picked it up, stuffing it hastily into his pocket.
“What was that?” Alayne asked, wiping the remainder of her tears from her cheeks and flinging the element into the atmosphere.
“Nothing important,” Daymon said, his face flushing red beneath his natural tan. “We can talk about it later.”
Alayne stared at him. “Daymon, if there's anything I've learned in the last few years, it's to never put off until later what can be said now. Come on, what is it?”
A long pause ensued. The red that had crept into Daymon's face receded, leaving him pale and oddly hesitant to meet her gaze. “I—it's just that I never quite—knew how I was going to—to say—or rather, to ask you—if you would—I mean—I didn't know I'd be bringing you such awful news tonight, so—”
He bowled to a stop as Alayne flinched, and he thrust his hands into his hair in frustration. “Skies, Layne, I'm awful at this, but—I was going to make it more romantic, and—”
“Daymon?” Alayne reached into his pocket, resisting his hand when he tried to stop her, and pulled out a silver ring. A band of small, glittering diamonds surrounded it. “Were you—going to ask me something?” She held up the ring on her palm, and Daymon finally took it, holding it carefully between his thumb and forefinger.
He cleared his throat again as he studied the ring. “Alayne, I didn't expect you, but I found you. I didn't want you, but you came anyway. I didn't know what to do with you, but you showed me the way. I didn't know how to love you, but you pulled me through it. Now I don't know how to live without you, so I need to ask you a question.”
He gently took her hand and flipped it over, his fingers lightly tracing her palm. The ring hovered over the third finger of her left hand. His voice rasped against the emotion that shivered in the air. “Alayne Worth, I love you more than I love living. I want you more than I want air to breathe. You are as much a part of me as I am of you—” his hand trembled slightly on hers, and he steadied his voice, “—and even though I began my connection with you because of the Vale, my love outlasted the Vale and will continue for as long as I live. Layne,” his lashes were suspiciously moist, “will you marry me?”
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