by Claire Frank
“He has a point, you know,” said Callum. Daro looked at him in confusion. It wasn’t often that Callum and Alastair agreed. Callum looked back and forth between the other two men again. “What? I’m just saying that it seems crazy for a man like you to be living out in the middle of nowhere making tables and chairs, or whatever it is you do.” He leaned in and rested his elbow on the table. “I know this fellow who could really use a man like you. Completely legitimate, I assure you, and it would pay extremely well.” He trailed off, raising his eyebrows at Daro.
“You know a fellow?” Daro said. “Thank you, Callum, but no, I’m not sure I want to know who this ‘fellow’ might be.”
“Oh no, it’s nothing like that,” Callum said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Completely legal.” Alastair snorted. Callum smirked at him. “I’m fairly certain my offer would be a bit more enticing than that of our good king.”
“You’re both idiots,” Daro said and shook his head. “What others believe isn’t important to me. You can think I ran away or I’m hiding or whatever you want. I just want to live in peace and love my wife, simple as that.”
The door opened as Alastair opened his mouth to reply. Cecily appeared in the doorway and Daro stood. Her long hair was windblown and her blouse hung loose around her body, her unbound corset clutched in her hand. She met Daro’s eyes from across the room and he knew something was wrong. He pushed the chair away from the table and walked to her, no further thought for his friends. She took a few steps toward him and threw herself into his arms.
He drew his arms around her protectively and kissed the top of her head. “Cecily, what happened?”
“I’m okay. I don’t want to talk about it here.” He brushed the hair back from her face. She gave him a small smile and reached down to take off her shoes. “These shoes are terrible.”
He rubbed her back gently and walked her toward the stairs as anger rose up like bile in his throat. He should have gone with her. He didn’t know what they had said to put her in this state, but he was furious with himself for not having been there to protect her. As he mounted the stairs, he looked toward the friends he’d left at the table and had a passing thought for them and those still due to arrive. They could bloody well wait. Her face was so pale and her eyes red.
He hadn’t seen her look like that in a long time.
7. COMPANIONS
Daro shut the door with a soft click, followed Cecily to the bed, and sat on the edge next to her. “What happened?” he asked, his voice soft.
She took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t let her get to me like this. I don’t know how she does it, but she always knows exactly what to say to get under my skin. She always did.” She paused and Daro stroked her back, waiting for her to continue. “Everything was going fine, just the usual from my mother. My sister is getting married. I gave my mother the chest and she accepted it with a decent amount of grace. Then as I was leaving, she asked about having a family. She said it was ‘for the best’ that we don’t have any children.” She choked out the last few words, put her hand to her mouth, and breathed deeply to stop herself from crying. “I just left. I didn’t say anything else. And I walked back here.”
Daro closed his eyes and kept rubbing her back gently. Damn that woman. “Oh, love,” he said. He never really knew what to say, especially about this. “She was just trying to upset you.”
Cecily sniffed a little. “I know. I reacted badly. I shouldn’t have let her see how much that hurt.”
Daro shook his head and wrapped his arms around his wife. “No, it doesn’t matter what she saw or what she thinks.”
Cecily leaned into his arms and sat quietly for a moment. Then she pulled away to look up at him. “Is it terrible that I want to have a baby to spite my mother? Just to see the look on her face when I tell her that her precious noble blood will be mingled with that of a half-Imaran mountain man?”
Daro smiled. “Now, that’s my girl.” She smiled back and he relaxed a little. Her face had returned to its normal color and her eyes were bright. He brushed the hair back from her face. “Always remember, they can’t take anything away from us. We’re out of their power now.”
Cecily smiled wider. “This is why I love you. It’s impossible to stay upset when I’m with you.” She kissed him quickly and got up to change her clothes.
He leaned back on the bed and braced himself with one arm as he watched her dress. He could sense her relief as she discarded her formal dress and donned her typical attire. Tonight she wore a cream tunic, cut to flatter her feminine shape. She pulled on her dark leggings and high brown leather boots. She added a wide belt and smoothed out her shirt. Her bearing still made her clothing look a bit regal; perhaps it was the ease with which she stood. Or maybe he was always a little drunk with her beauty. Cecily claimed she wasn’t considered particularly beautiful, but he couldn’t imagine anyone more so. She had a delicate jaw and a small nose, her eyes brown against her fair skin.
She straightened her necklace and brushed her hair back with her hands. She turned toward the small mirror and braided two small braids at each temple, pulled them to the back of her head, and pinned them in place. She fluffed out the rest of her hair, letting it hang down her back.
“There,” she said as she turned to him. “I feel better.”
He smiled again. “You look perfect.”
“I suppose we should go downstairs. The rest of them will be there by now, I expect,” she said. “Besides, I’m famished.”
***
Their table was nearly full when they made their way down the stairs to the back room. Edson had returned and sat listening to Alastair with wide eyes. Daro wondered what rubbish Alastair was filling the lad’s head with this time. Griff and Serv had joined the group, Griff’s hearty laughs audible from the upper floor. Callum leaned in toward Mira, a tall and lanky woman dressed in the uniform of a king’s guard, the king’s sigil embroidered across her chest. Mira was a Precision Wielder, whose abilities made her an uncannily accurate archer, and had joined King Rogan’s personal guard after the war.
On Callum’s other side sat Sumara, a sultry woman with silky black hair and a full mouth. She wore a long, sleeveless white dress, with braided straps crossing her shoulders and a loose leather belt draped at her waist. Originally from Sahaar, a kingdom to the south of Halthas, Sumara had never changed her style of dress to adopt Halthian fashion. She was a Lightning Wielder and a former classmate of Cecily’s at the Lyceum, now under the patronage of one of the high noble houses of Halthas.
Everyone stood at their approach. Daro placed his hand on the small of Cecily’s back and led her to the table. They smiled at their friends, and Cecily stepped forward to embrace them each in turn. They greeted each other warmly, no one resting on formality. These were the companions they had fought with, bled with, and trusted with their lives during the war—people who were much more like family than mere friends. Daro sat down, leaning back in his chair. It was good to see the companions again.
There were others who wouldn’t be joining them for their annual gathering. Merrick hated the city more than Daro, preferring the solitude of his cabin in the woods outside the city. He and Cecily would pay him a visit on their way home. Rogan was king now. He had more important things to attend to than a gathering of friends at an inn. And Daro wasn’t sure they could find an establishment large enough for his retinue of guards. There were others as well, those buried and gone, who had given their lives in the struggle against Hadran.
When everyone had settled into their chairs, their mugs and goblets refilled, Griff rose, mug in hand. “A toast to our king. To His Majesty, King Rogan!”
Everyone raised their glass in agreement. “To the king!”
Griff remained standing. “And to us. May we all live long and happy lives, free of the misery of war.”
“Hear, hear!” came the reply. Daro lifted his mug and drank a heavy swig of dark ale. He could drink to that wholeheartedly.
The innkeeper and several serving girls brought out platters of steaming food. Daro dug in, filling his plate with a pile of tender pork ribs doused in a thick honey sauce, roast pheasant with herbs, and a chunk of soft brown bread. The sweet smell of the honey sauce and the juice of the roasted meat made his mouth water. As he bit into a piece of pheasant, the skin crackled and juice ran down his chin.
A serving girl leaned across the table and filled several mugs from a thick ceramic jug. She wore a long bright yellow dress that laced up the front over a short-sleeved blouse, with a clean beige apron tied at her waist, her cleaning rag tucked into the band. Callum caught Daro’s eye and gave him a quick wink. He flicked the hair from his eyes and held out a coin between the tips of his two fingers. “Keep ‘em coming, darling.” She smiled and took the coin, turning to walk back toward the kitchen.
Callum’s mouth curled up in a crooked smile as he held up her cleaning rag. Daro smiled over his food and glanced up at the girl. She stopped, patted her hip, and looked over her shoulder. Callum held his arm out, the rag hanging from his upturned hand. Her brows drew down as she walked back and snatched the rag from his grip.
“You seemed to have dropped this,” he said as he looked up over his shoulder. She narrowed her eyes at him and started to turn away, but he stopped her, laying a hand on her arm. “Careful, darling, you seem to be missing something,” he said and handed her back the coin.
Her mouth opened as she plucked it from his fingers. “How did you do that?” she asked. The conversations around the table quieted as their heads turned to look at Callum and the girl. Daro took another bite of pheasant.
“You really should be careful with your money,” Callum said. He pushed his chair back and stood up with a smile. “There are a lot of unscrupulous folk who might take advantage.” He lightly touched her hand, placing it palm up, and closed her fingers around the coin. He laid his hand on top of her fist. “I wouldn’t want you to lose any of your hard-earned reward.” He flicked the fingers of his other hand and another coin appeared, held between two fingers. The serving girl’s eyebrows rose, and she smiled.
“I just want to be certain my friends and I have a pleasant evening. I find the best way to do that,” he said as he closed his hand, flipping it open again and showing his empty palm, “is to keep the ale flowing.” He smiled and lifted his hand off of hers. She opened it to find two coins, clinking together in the palm of her hand. “Don’t worry, darling, I’m just having some fun with you.”
She laughed and shook her head as she clasped the two coins. “Have a seat, sir. I’ll be back to fill your mugs.”
Daro chuckled to himself as he filled his plate with more food. The hum of conversation grew as the companions settled into their meal.
Callum looked across the table at Daro and raised his eyebrows. “What’s that in your pocket?”
Daro lifted one corner of his mouth in a smile as he leaned back from the table and patted down his pockets. He felt a round disk and pulled it out. One of Callum’s coins. Daro laughed, shaking his head, and flipped the coin back to Callum. “I don’t know how you do that,” he said.
Callum shrugged his shoulders, caught the coin, and made it disappear again with a flick of his fingers. Daro loved it when Callum showed off his sleight of hand. One might assume Callum was an Illusionist, with a Wielding ability that aided his tricks. He was a powerful Wielder, but his gift was Empathy, the ability to influence and control emotions. Daro didn’t know how Callum had learned to fool people the way he did, but it always made for an amusing evening.
Daro turned to his wife and she smiled, the stress gone from her eyes. He lifted his mug and washed down his food with a long pull of the rich ale.
“Serv and I were in Madrona a few months back,” Griff said and the table quieted at the mention of the town. “The Keep is fully manned again and the town is looking downright lively.”
“Daro and I haven’t been there in a long time,” Cecily said. “I think they were still rebuilding the last time we were there.”
Madrona Keep was where the war had begun, and where Daro had first met many of the companions. Fearing a rebellion, King Hadran had called together the heads of the noble houses he believed to be traitorous. He ambushed them under a banner of peace in what had become known as the Madrona Massacre. Mira, Sumara and Alastair were among the survivors.
Mira spoke up. “I’ll never forget climbing over that wall, seeing Daro reaching up for me. I thought I was dead and then there he was.”
“We all thought we were dead,” Alastair said.
“How did you get out?” Edson asked, his glance roving around the table.
“It was chaos,” Alastair said. “Hadran’s men attacked without warning, killing people and setting fire to everything. I don’t think Hadran expected anyone to get out, but a few of us did.”
“Daro and I came running to help when we saw the smoke,” Cecily said, her voice quiet. “We had almost left the town before the conclave began. As soon as I heard Hadran would be at the Keep, I wanted to leave. A problem with one of our horses kept us longer than we’d planned.”
“There wasn’t much we could do,” Daro said. “We grabbed as many survivors as we could and ferried them into the woods. Hadran’s men rampaged through that poor town, burning most of it to the ground.” He put an arm around Cecily’s shoulders. He knew it was hard for her to relive those memories.
“That was a dark day,” Alastair said, nodding slowly. “But not without its bright spots. Daro here did manage to save a certain man by the name of Rogan, and that certainly had important ramifications later.”
Edson’s eyes widened. “You saved the king?”
“He wasn’t the king yet,” Daro said. “We helped whoever we could that night.”
“I can’t forget the night we were all holed up in that cave, north of the city,” Griff said, shaking his head. “We were so sure Hadran’s soldiers were coming for us, we must have jumped at every sound.”
“Or the night Callum snuck us all back into the city,” Sumara said. “I recall Cecily was the only one willing to trust you when you hustled us down into your underground hiding place. The rest of us wondered if we would end up worse off than before.”
Callum smiled. “Cecily, you always were my favorite,” he said with a wink.
Daro took another swig of ale and listened as the companions recalled moments from the war. The strange, the surprising, the frightening and even the amusing. No one spoke of the truly bad memories, particularly the night that had ended the conflict. There was something sacred about the memories of that night, as though there were a silent agreement to leave them unspoken.
“It was a shame we had to fight, but I’m certain Halthas is stronger for it,” Mira said. “I hate to think of what life would have been like if Hadran had kept the throne. Or if his son had taken it.”
“No telling what kind of a king Prince Pathius would have made,” Alastair said as he put down his mug.
“I doubt he would have been any better than his father,” Cecily said. Daro glanced at his wife. She stared at the table. “I didn’t know Pathius well, but I know Hadran was preparing him for the throne. Hadran’s influence must have been strong.”
“What happened to him?” Edson asked.
Alastair shrugged. “He died in the fighting.”
Callum gestured with his hand. “Which certainly made the question of succession simpler.”
“Callum, that’s a terrible thing to say,” Sumara said.
“Perhaps,” Callum said. “That doesn’t make it less true.”
It was well into the night when Daro lumbered up the stairs, his head swimming from too much ale. His heart was full, the recollections vivid, but no longer quite so painful. The companions were like a family to him, tied together by shared experience and tragedy. Reliving their ordeals together dulled the edges of his memories, while assuring him it had all been real. A part of him longed for the days when their lives had in
tertwined. He didn’t wish for war, but it had been difficult for all of them to return to a normal existence once the conflict had ended. Spending time with them reminded him they also felt the pull of their companionship and the challenges of putting their lives back together after everything they had seen and done.
As he lay in bed, Alastair’s words from earlier in the evening rung in his ears. Sleep eluded him and he pondered whether his friend might be right. Was he hiding Cecily away? Had they run from their responsibilities? He pushed the thought away. The kingdom could bloody well run itself now. Rogan had plenty of good men; he had no need for Daro. Or Cecily. They would spend a few more days in the city and return to the contentment of their home.
As he had assured his wife, no one could take anything from them. The kingdom didn’t have power over them anymore. No one did.
8. LIFE TREE
Daro hung back as Cecily ran her hands along a bolt of cloth. They were wandering through the central market in the north side of the city. Cecily loved to browse the stalls, searching for items to add to their home. She’d already bought a pair of silver candleholders that Daro had placed in his pack. He wasn’t sure why they needed more candleholders, but he deferred to his wife on things of that nature. He didn’t mind the market too much. It could get crowded, but Cecily knew how to keep him content. As long as he could stop and sample the sweetmeats, steaming meat pies, and other market delicacies, he was happy enough.
“What did you think of that one?” Cecily asked as they wandered away from the stall.
Daro popped another roasted nut into his mouth. “It was,” he said with a pause, “nice?”