Chapter 30

Mountain Chateau—Six Months Later

Morning light was hours away, but Maura slipped out of bed and dressed, careful not to wake Aiden. Restoring the chateau to its former glory had taken all the strength they could muster. Even though the vestiges of the horror that had taken place there had been swept away, memories spoke to her in countless voices in the night. Sometimes she just had to get up and face them.

She tiptoed down the dark hall and followed a glimmer of moonlight from the kitchen window. The room where they’d worked so hard the day before was lit in pale shadows. She rubbed sore arms, a reminder of the hours they’d spent clearing cobwebs and scrubbing the massive iron stove. They were determined to get it into working order, especially since hungry bellies of boisterous children were short on patience.

The chair where Papa had waited for her that morning so long before stood in one corner. She’d rubbed the soot away and re-oiled its finish until her fingers were raw. The sting of his absence pierced more sharply in places where his presence lingered. She longed for one more hug.

Lost friends and loved ones reappeared in bits and pieces all around her. She imagined the creak of Mama’s sewing chair in the bedroom she and Aiden had claimed as their own. When afternoon sun sent prisms of light dancing across the library, she remembered tiny bumps of terror that rose on her skin as Benjamin wove his stories.

It had taken weeks to return to the chateau. She and Aiden stayed in Sanctuary after that fateful day at the amphitheater. No one had seen Tobias since he’d revealed himself as a griffin and exacted vengeance on Lilith. He’d truly been Maura’s guardian in ways she still struggled to understand.

And now Maura was at the chateau she’d loved. She pushed open the heavy door and walked outside. She searched the dark sky, where she knew she’d find the constellation Orion, the Hunter. The one whose name meant He Who Comes Forth as Light. Its brightest star, Betelgeuse, meant Branch Extended.

The Creator of the heavens had extended a branch to her that carried her through the impossible and brought her safely home. His message was a reminder to see. A certainty that light always overcame darkness. Lilith had died, but not until she came to know that love had never given up its hope for her.

It wasn’t only the heavens that declared the glory of God. His glory danced in the hearts of people too. That was easy to see in Aiden. As it had been in Benjamin and her parents. It was harder to recognize in herself. She finally understood that unseen hands had placed their light in her eyes—an encoded message, just like the stars.

She and Aiden had adopted Alessandra Gunter, Lilith and Anton’s daughter. A strong-willed, active child, she reminded Maura of another little girl who’d always tested the boundaries Papa had set. Although Aless wasn’t their own, her light curls were more like her Aunt Judith than her own mother, Lilith.

That was where the similarity ended. Aless crowed like a rooster with every race she won and climbed trees with the most agile. She tested Maura’s patience every day. Of course, Aiden wasn’t moved by a child who was so much like the woman he loved.

Shaking her head to clear away the rush of thoughts, Maura picked up her skirt and ran to the meadow. She closed her eyes and twirled in the gray dawn, singing the choruses of her childhood. Ones she’d teach other little ones.

Finally, the sun rose, and she heard a little one’s voice calling from the chateau.

“Wait for me!” Alessandra rushed into the meadow, arms flapping and legs skipping over dewy grass and wildflowers. Pulling her into a hug, Maura whirled her around as together they greeted a new day.

Movement stirred near the aspen. She instinctively held the child closer as a brown hat bobbed through the tall grass. It was attached to familiar head with hair spewing out in wild shoots. A smile crinkled his eyes, and his crooked gait became an awkward gallop.

Benjamin. Could it be?

Maura placed Aless down on a thatch of grass and ran to him. They hugged until they fell to the ground in a jumbled pile of happiness.

“But I thought…” she said. “I saw her…”

“It was only an image, dear heart.” He brushed hair from her face and studied her appearance. “I was on my way after Lilith died—when I knew she was free of Gad El Glas. But I was delayed the village.”

Maura had too many questions to choose just one. Benjamin seemed to understand. “That’s a story for another time,” he said, smoothing her hair with his weathered hand.

Maura peered over him from head to toe. “Did they hurt you? Why did it take so long to get here?” Her questions longed to escape like water from a floodgate.

Benjamin held up his hand to quiet her. “Lilith thought that if you believed she’d murdered me, you’d surrender to her without a fight. Then she’d swiftly dispatch you in sight of everyone at the amphitheater.” His shoulders were thin and stooped. Stubble on his cheeks had become gray.

The last time she’d seen him was the day she’d watched Lilith murder him. Tears rushed to her eyes, and she bowed her head. “I’m sorry. I tried to…”

Benjamin chuckled. “The will of the scroll was stronger than Lilith. It kept me safe. And has a mind of its own. One even stronger than yours.” His brown eyes shone with joy. “I’m proud of you, Star. You did rise up. As will the little one you carry in your womb.”

Maura gasped and pretended to be appalled. Then giggled as she touched her belly.

Aless joined them, stretching up on tiptoes to come closer. Benjamin held his hands out, and the girl tumbled into them.

“Who told you?” Maura asked. “You don’t even know… Aiden and I married here, in this very meadow. And Aiden is…”

“Paddy. I know. I have my sources.” He pointed in the direction of the aspens.

Aiden burst into the meadow, his curls a burnished copper in the sunlight. He picked up Alessandra in one arm and embraced Maura in the other. Those long arms were coming in handy with the tribe of children they’d inherited.

Suddenly, a shadow appeared over the trees. Aiden instinctively pushed Maura and Aless into a cover of nearby bushes. Maura struggled out of the tangle of branches and pointed toward the sky.

“It’s Tobias!”

Maura and her family stood together, hands extended into the air to greet the griffin, who soared once more over the aspen grove. His majestic form dipped low, then spiraled upward, as if to approve of their gathering. Or perhaps as a reminder that he was still guardian of treasure.