“Love is not measured by the amount of time you spend together,” his mother said. “It’s how that time is spent.” She smiled wryly. “Love moves fast in wartime—it has to. And it’s not particularly useful to try to put a label on it.”
“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he said. “She’s dead.”
“Dead?” His mother sighed and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, sweetling.”
An hour with his mother, and he was already handing off sorrows. It wasn’t fair.
“I feel stupid bringing this up,” he said. “There’s no comparison with what you had with Da, with what you lost, and yet—does it ever get easier? Do you ever wake up and it doesn’t run you over, when you remember?”
She frowned, thinking. Ash liked that she didn’t answer right away with a platitude or dismiss his pain as trivial.
“It does get easier,” she said finally. “There will come a time when your memories will bring you more joy than pain. It’s taken me four years to get to that point.”
“I see.” He took a quick breath. “I know I have no right to ask this, but—”
“But have I thought of remarrying?” She snorted. “Everyone else asks it, so why shouldn’t you? The answer is yes, of course I’ve thought of it, but that’s as far as it goes. I see no reason to marry right now. Sometimes it seems that I would only be putting one more person at risk.”
“What do you mean?”
“Our family has suffered more than our share of loss, and yet the losses keep coming. The wolves keep running.”
The queens of the Gray Wolf line saw wolves in times of danger and change. “Are you . . . are you seeing wolves now? Still?”
“The wolves are always with me, these days,” his mother said, gripping the wolf ring that hung from a chain around her neck. “I can’t help wondering if we are reaching the end of the Gray Wolf line.”
Ash had never heard his mother sound so despondent. But then, so much had happened these past four years that he hadn’t been around to see.
“No!” he practically shouted. And then, more quietly, “Mother, I—I can’t believe that this—that this is all for nothing. I can’t believe that we live in a world that rewards evil and punishes the good.”
“Some speakers say that we must wait to be rewarded in the next life.” She shook her head. “Forgive me for being maudlin. We should be celebrating your return from the dead, and looking forward to your reunion with Alyssa.”
Clearly that was all she meant to say on the topic, because she stood, and said briskly, “Enough. I’ve asked Magret to open up your old room, and by now it should have had time to air out.”
He looked up, startled. “Magret? She’s still . . . in service?” He was going to say alive, but thought better of it.
“Don’t be so surprised,” the queen said, smiling. “Four years is a longer time in the life of a thirteen-year-old than in that of one who’s nearing eighty. And she intends to serve until death calls her away.”
Hanalea’s Maidens were an order of warriors bound to the service and protection of the Gray Wolf line. Magret had served as nurse, teacher, and protector to his mother and Aunt Mellony, and then to Hanalea, Adrian, and Lyss. She had brought an array of skills to the job. More than once, she’d drawn her sword to protect the royal family.
She had a tongue like a sword as well, when she believed that her young charges required correction. Ash didn’t look forward to feeling the bite of it now.
21
A MIXED RECEPTION
Ash had been struggling to come up with a story to tell when his mother and her council began asking hard questions. They must know that he and Lila had been missing from school since Solstice. The next morning, at a private breakfast in her chambers, he asked about plans for a debriefing. But the queen seemed in no hurry to move on to that phase of this reunion.
“I had cleared my calendar so that I could spend this week at temple, mourning for you,” she said wryly. “Since that’s no longer necessary, we will lay plans for your resurrection. Rumors are flying already. I’ve scheduled one meeting with the council for this afternoon. Tonight, we’ll hold a small reception for family, close friends, and high officials only. When people ask questions, tell them you’ll need to speak with me first.
“Tomorrow, we’ll announce your miraculous return with a service in the cathedral temple, a parade through the city, and a street party. Beginning the day after that, you’ll have more than your fill of meetings. So enjoy these two days before the ordeal begins.”
He had two days, then, to settle on a plan. He spent the rest of the morning being bathed, shaved, and shorn to make him as presentable as possible. To his surprise, he found four fine coats hanging in his closet, along with three pairs of breeches and a pair of clan-made boots.
“Where did these come from?” he asked Magret, who was filling drawers with smallclothes and shirts and tidying what didn’t really need to be tidied.
“Most of those clothes belonged to your da, may he rest in peace,” Magret said. She looked him up and down. “It might be that now you’re big enough to fill them. Your sister the princess Alyssa had them cleaned and hung them in the closet so they’d be here when you returned.”
Startled, Ash looked up at Magret. “She did? When?”
“Right after your father was killed and you were carried off. She never gave up hope that you were alive. She used to come in here now and then and brush the dust off so they’d be ready. On the day of your funeral she locked herself in her room and refused to come out.” The eye she fixed on him was disapproving.
“I’m sorry I put her through that,” Adrian said. He could spend the rest of his life apologizing and it still wouldn’t be enough. There was no way to atone for this, no penance great enough to even the scales.
“Her Majesty had new stoles made for you with your father’s ravens. They’re in the drawer. Will you be needing anything else, Your Highness?”
Not if it comes with a lecture. “No, thank you.”
“Don’t forget, Her Majesty the Queen’s reception begins at six, and it’s quarter past five now. You’ll hear the bells in the cathedral temple—”
“I remember,” he said. “I’ll be there.” She probably thinks I’ll run out on that, too. He waited until he was sure Magret was gone before he fingered the nearest coat, an emerald silk. He leaned down to sniff it, hoping it might still carry a trace of his father’s scent, but, whether due to cleaning or the passage of time, it did not.
What would it have been like had he stayed? If he and Lyss had worked through their grief together instead of each on his or her own? He wouldn’t have met Jenna, and Gerard Montaigne might still be alive. He might be married now. Or he might be dead.
There was no fair way to compare what had been with what might have been. He just had to find a way forward.
Here was a coat he recognized, one that sent his stomach plummeting into his boots. It was his father’s clan mourning coat, stitched with his sister Hanalea’s gray wolves. On the back, the Waterlow ravens, and the High Wizard flame and sword down the sleeves. His father had worn it to Hana’s funeral.
Ash sank onto the bed, cradling the coat in his arms, his tears falling on the leather and wool, his fingers tracing the intricate stitching. He shivered, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. It was almost as if his father had prepared this coat for him, blazoned with the signia of those Ash had loved and lost.
Should he wear it in honor of his father? Or would it be seen as arrogant, as if he’d wandered back home and made an immediate claim on his father’s legacy, down to his serpent amulet?
He decided he didn’t care.
It had been a long time since he’d worn anything but the drab brown healer’s garb at Ardenscourt and the nondescript breeches and coats that had served him well on the road from Ardenscourt to Fellsmarch.
He was just fumbling with the tiny buttons on his shirt when someone banged on the door.
“Come,” Ash said, guessing he was far enough along in dressing to entertain company.
It was Lila Barrowhill Byrne, unfamiliar in the blue uniform of the Queen’s Guard. She ran her eyes up and down the length of him and snorted.
“Back for a day, and already tricked out like a proper princeling,” she said, flopping into a chair. Something about the scene reverberated in Ash’s memory, recalling his last day at Oden’s Ford, when Lila barged into his room and invited him to a party at Wien House.
“You should talk,” Ash said. “Looks like you’re planning to join the family business.”
She shook her head. “Nah,” she said. “I’m in disguise.”
“That’s a disguise?” Ash raised an eyebrow.
“I’m disguised as someone who could fit in here,” she said, thrusting her fingers into her collar and yanking at it until a button popped off. “That’s better,” she said. “This comes off as soon as I cross the border. By the way, you can forget Lila Byrne. I’m still Barrowhill.”
“Barrowhill? I was just getting used to Byrne.”
“As someone who has more names than a clicket-house rusher, you’ll get no sympathy from me.”
“But . . .”
“I’m a spy,” Lila said. “And a smuggler and a fixer. If I want to keep working that line, I can’t show up here at court and be Captain Amazing Byrne’s daughter. If you think this place isn’t full of spies, you’re wrong. There’s too great a chance I’ll be seen by unfriendly eyes and heard by unfriendly ears.” She gave him a measuring sort of look. “Somebody gave you up to Arden, and that somebody wasn’t me. It wasn’t widely known here at court, either—I hear that the queen didn’t even tell your little sister. So who would it’ve been?”
Ash couldn’t help thinking of Micah Bayar, his father’s default when it came to villains. “You’d probably know better than me,” he said.
“Anyway. I need to get back to Ardenscourt before everyone forgets how very helpful I can be. Out of sight, out of mind, you know.”
“You’re going back there?” Ash stared at her.
“I’m leaving within the hour.”
“I thought maybe you’d stay here permanently now that you don’t have to watch over me at Oden’s Ford.” Though keeping Lila here had its risks, Ash was suddenly eager to have someone around who didn’t remember him as a thirteen-year-old runaway. “I’m sure Captain Byrne could use your help to—”
“No!” Lila said. When Ash stared at her, she added, “I hate it here. Isn’t that enough of a reason? This is just a job to me. The family I care about is at Wolf’s Head, on the coast.”
“Wolf’s Head?”
“You wouldn’t know it,” Lila said. “You’re not supposed to. Anyway, they’re the ones who raised me. I’m traveling south by way of Spiritgate so I can visit with them.”
“Oh,” Ash said. “All right then.”
But Lila seemed compelled to make her case. “You don’t think the queendom needs eyes and ears in Arden with a new king and a civil war in the offing? Anyway, the food is better down there. I’ve never been much for barley, and I do love me some Tamric wine.”
“Don’t you think that with King Gerard dead and the thanes in rebellion, King Jarat will have enough on his hands without turning his eyes to the north? Especially since my mother didn’t spurn his offer of marriage.”
“Maybe,” Lila said. “I wouldn’t count on it. Besides, if this war ever ends, I’ll be out of a job.”
“Maybe,” Ash said. “I wouldn’t count on it.”
After a brief silence, during which Lila showed no inclination to leave, Ash said, “Is there something you want, or are you just trying to fill the empty hour until you go?”
“Who will be at this reception tonight?” Lila was staring up at the ceiling, but Ash couldn’t help thinking she was focused closely on his answer.
“I don’t know,” he said. “My mother said that it would be family, close friends, and high-ups. The general announcement of my resurrection isn’t until tomorrow, so I can’t imagine it would be a big crowd tonight.”
“What about Shadow Dancer? Will he be there?” Lila cut her eyes toward Ash, then away again.
“If he’s in town, I expect he will be,” Ash said. “I haven’t seen either Shadow or his father in years, and they were practically family, growing up.” He paused. “Why?”
“Oh, I worked with Shadow quite a bit on various . . . projects . . . having to do with Arden,” Lila said, nibbling on a fingernail. “The last time I saw him was at Chalk Cliffs. It was right after his fiancée was killed in an Ardenine attack. He was in pretty bad shape.”
Ash was embarrassed to know so little about what had been happening in his homeland. Lila had never lived here; in fact, she said she hated it here, yet she was much more up on the latest news than he was.
“Bones,” he said. “I didn’t even know he was engaged. Who was she?”
“Her name was Aspen Silverleaf,” Lila said. “A clan leatherworker. I suppose that’s what he . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Anyway. I thought I’d better mention it.”
“I didn’t know about that. Thank you for letting me know, so I can avoid saying anything stupid.”
“I’m mainly looking out for him,” Lila said. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of room for you to be stupid on lots of other topics.” She said this with an echo of her usual snarkiness, but Ash could tell that her heart wasn’t in it.
Just then, the cathedral temple bells sounded the quarter hour.
Ash draped his wizard stoles over his coat. They weighed on him, more than silk and stitchery ever had before. “I suppose I’d better go. Are you going to stop in for a little while?”
Lila came to her feet and shook her head. “Nah. I’ve seen the people I need to see. If I stay any longer, I’ll see the people I’d just as soon avoid.”
“Well, be careful,” Ash said.
“I’m not the one with a target on his back.” She hesitated a moment, then grudgingly embraced him. “Take care of yourself, healer.”
As soon as he was ushered into the queen’s reception chamber, Ash all but ran into Micah Bayar. The wizard took a quick step back, nimbly avoiding the collision.
“Welcome home, Your Highness,” Bayar said, inclining his head in a polite bow. “Your sudden resurrection has brought joy into your mother’s heart after an unusually dark season, and for that I am glad.”
Ash’s heart-to-heart with Lila had kindled old suspicions. Did Bayar know I was alive all along? Did my mother tell him or not? Did she trust him to know? Was he the one who betrayed me? He tried not to stare at Bayar’s High Wizard stoles—the colors he’d last seen draped over his father’s shoulders.
Bayar made no attempt to hide his own slow study of Ash. “I see your father in you more clearly now than before,” he said. It was impossible to tell from the wizard’s tone and expression whether he thought that was a good thing or a bad thing.
“If you see any element of my father in me, I consider that a compliment,” Ash said.
Bayar turned and motioned to a tall young wizard with white-blond hair, who stood just behind him and to one side. “I believe you know my nephew, Finn.”
“Finn!” Ash said, with real warmth this time. “It’s good to see that you—that you—”
“That I’m still alive?” Finn smiled a crooked smile. “That’s my line, I believe.”
They embraced.
“Finn has been attending the academy at Oden’s Ford,” Bayar continued. “Now I hear that you’ve been studying there as well.” He paused long enough to give that sentence a little extra bite. Did that mean that he hadn’t known Ash was alive, that his mother hadn’t confided in him? “Interesting that the two of you never crossed paths.”
Does he think I’m lying about being at Oden’s Ford? Why would I do that? So I could bask on a beach somewhere?
“Maybe we did, Uncle Micah,” Finn said, rolling his eyes. “It’s been f
our years. We’ve both changed. I’m not sure I could have picked Adrian out of a crowd—especially since I wasn’t looking for him, because we all thought he was dead.”
Really? Ash thought. Finn had changed—he appeared gaunt, a bit hollow-eyed, the bones in his face standing out more than before. But four years wasn’t all that long, and the wizard academy was smaller than in the past. Ash couldn’t help thinking that if he had seen him, he would have recognized him.
“Every marching season, Finn’s been fighting for the queendom,” Bayar said. “He’s played a pivotal role in keeping the southerners at bay.” Maybe Bayar was just proud of his nephew, but Ash wondered if that was intended as a dig at the runaway prince.
By now, Finn’s pale cheeks were stained with color. “Uncle,” he said, “I’d like to hear more about what Adrian has been doing.”
“Hasn’t the spring term already started?” Ash said.
Finn nodded. “It has, but I’m not going back. I have a new calling. I’m apprenticed to Lord Vega in the healing halls.”
Ash stared at him. “In the healing halls? You . . . you mean to be a healer?” Ash couldn’t ever remember Finn expressing an interest in that field.
Finn nodded, laughing. “Is that so hard to believe? As I said, we’ve both changed over the past four years.”
“Finn suffered a serious wound on the battlefield last summer,” Bayar said. “He spent a great deal of time under Lord Vega’s care. Now he’s got it into his head that he wants to be a healer. Hopefully a season emptying bedpans and treating Tamric boils will—”
“This is not some kind of whim, Uncle Micah,” Finn said. “I know you think I should have returned to the academy, but this is the path I’ve chosen. My parents are supportive, and that should be enough for you.”
“They’re more supportive of your betrothal than of your chosen vocation,” Bayar retorted. “Anything that keeps you here until the deed is accomplished is—”
“You’re out of line, Uncle,” Finn snapped. “If you want to run somebody’s life, then you should have had a son of your own.”
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