CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Epilogue

I told you we would be meeting Adon at the Eminence’s Library,” Tagaret said. “You didn’t believe me?”

Della shrugged, and pressed her hand against a rolling movement in her belly. “Of course I believed you. I just wasn’t sure Adon would come.” So far, they were alone in the library’s small foyer, except for Yoral and Kuarmei, and the two orange-clad guards flanking the door.

“I did say I could prove to him that it was safe.”

“And what did he say?”

Tagaret sighed. “He said, ‘I don’t know.’”

Della checked down the hall. There was Adon—walking slowly up the bright stairs from the rotunda. Twins bless him, she worried about him so much. After the time he spent on business with Nekantor, he always locked himself in his room for several hours, and wouldn’t even speak to Serjer. Sometimes he wouldn’t eat.

“Be right back,” said Tagaret, and jogged down the hall. “Adon, hey.”

“I’m sure it’s nice, all right?” Adon said, in a bored tone. “But it’s the Eminence’s Library.”

“Fine, you’ve forced my hand,” said Tagaret. “I’m going to have to prove it.”

Adon rolled his eyes.

For a second, Tagaret looked at Della; she held her breath at the look on his face. “Kuarmei,” he said. “Please invite the Eminence to come out with us.”

Kuarmei nodded and ran off toward the entrance to the Eminent Chambers.

Adon stopped moving.

She couldn’t stand it anymore. Della hurried to Adon and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Tagaret, that’s not fair. Why would you do something like that?”

Tagaret glanced at his brother and winced, but it was already too late. Nekantor had emerged and strode around the edge of the rotunda, frowning.

“What is this?” he asked. “Why are you bothering me?”

“Hey, Nek,” said Tagaret cheerfully. “Remember how you told Adon you’d give him a tour of the Residence art?”

Nekantor narrowed his eyes. “Yes.”

Della squeezed Adon tighter; the poor boy was absolutely stiff. If this experiment left him more terrified than before, she was going to have severe words with Tagaret.

“Well, how about you come and show him your library?”

“No.”

Adon twitched at that.

“Are you sure?” Tagaret persisted. “It’s your own library; and it’s your job to teach him, now. Why wouldn’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nekantor said. “There are plenty of other fine places to see.”

Now she saw Tagaret’s plan—it was so risky she could have slapped him—but it appeared to be working, so there was only one thing to do. She smiled brightly. “Come on, Adon, let’s go see.”

Thank Heile, when she nudged him, Adon actually started to move.

Della called ahead to the guards. “Arissen, open the doors for us, please.”

“Yes, Lady.” The two opened the double doors—but that wasn’t the view she wanted Adon to see.

“Look,” she whispered in his ear. “Behind you.”

Adon turned his head.

Nekantor had turned his back on the open doors, and was scowling down at his watch. “Next time you think of messing with me, Tagaret, don’t. You’re wasting my time. I have important things to do.”

“Sorry,” said Tagaret. “I just think it’s pretty. And you did offer.”

“Fah.” Nekantor stalked off, back toward his Chambers.

Adon’s lips parted, and he breathed faster. He looked from Nekantor to the open doors and back. Then he walked out of Della’s arm into the library.

Thank Heile for mercy. She followed him.

“Ohhh,” Adon sighed. “Look at it.”

It really was breathtaking. The inside of the Eminence’s Library had been designed to look like a clearing up on the surface. It had a lush, thick carpet in a color that was not Grobal, but grass-green. At the head of the room, a shinca trunk had been built into the wall, filling the space with clear silver light. The ceiling was designed to imitate it, with white marble branches that split, and split again, and orange-lit globes hanging everywhere. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

Adon, clearly in awe, wandered forward into the space.

Tagaret joined her at her shoulder, then; she squeezed his arm, and he smiled. It couldn’t have been more perfect. Tall, mostly empty bookshelves extended into the room from the sides, creating little alcoves of privacy. The ones on the right-hand wall had windows between them. Stuffed chairs sat here and there, not aligned with anything, scattered without a pattern. It truly felt like freedom within walls.

“Tagaret,” Della whispered. “This is so lovely, I think Adon might even forgive you.”

Adon didn’t stop until he reached the other side of the room. He laid one hand on the back of a chair beside the shinca, and the other directly on the tree itself, and stood there for several seconds. Then he turned around and looked at them—really looked at them both, for the first time in weeks. Hope kindled in her heart.

“I could be safe here,” Adon said.

“Yes,” said Tagaret. “This place can be just for you.”

Della sighed. “Oh, Adon, I’m so glad. I love you so much.”

Adon looked about the room again, taking everything in. “Oh,” he said, suddenly. “So that’s where those went. I had the list redone, Della, look.”

“List? What do you mean?” She walked forward until she passed the last bookshelf, and found two long scrolls of paper hanging on the library wall: one black with writing in gold, the other, black ink on paper the striking golden color of pure tillik-silk.

The black paper was entitled, Honoring the Dead. A paragraph described the terrible events surrounding Eminence Herin’s death, and there was a list of names below; she scanned them with a thick feeling in her throat.

The silk paper was entitled, Honoring the Heroes. She read down the names solemnly until she saw the last two.

Arissen Pyaras

Grobal Della of the First Family

She started to cry.