CHAPTER FIFTEEN

DO I GET A KISS FROM THE BRIDE?” BLAINE MCFADDEN teased.

“For my big brother, sure.” Mari stretched up on tiptoe to give Blaine a peck on the cheek. Blaine threw his arms around her and lifted her off her feet, and she laughed in a way he had not heard since they were children. He set her down gently and bent to kiss the top of her head, then clapped Dawe Killick on the shoulder.

“Welcome to the family—as if you weren’t already part of it,” Blaine said with a grin.

“Not something we really would have imagined a while back, huh?” Dawe said in a tone that reflected his happy surprise at the way events had unfolded.

“On the whole, I’d say we’ve done well for ourselves.” Kestel Falke McFadden strode up to them. She embraced Mari and gave Dawe a joking punch in the shoulder. “Just to warn you—Dawe snores like a cow with a bad cold. I mean, at the Homestead, you could hear him all the way out in the barn,” she added with a teasing grin.

Red-haired with green eyes, lithe and pretty, Kestel looked radiant in her sapphire gown, a dress she had borrowed from Judith.

“Come and eat. There’s plenty for everyone.” Blaine’s aunt, Judith McFadden Ainsworth, walked toward them, gesturing to the group to come to the table. She was in her fifth decade, and the hardships of the last seven years showed in her face, but sometimes when she smiled, it was possible to imagine what a beauty she had been in her youth. “Two weddings in one year! I never thought Glenreith would see such happy times again, siege and war be damned!”

Glenreith, the McFadden family manor house, showed the hard times of recent years. But tonight, the great hall was lit with candles and a bounty of food and summer flowers graced the large, worn table. Roasted lamb and braised suckling pig filled large platters, surrounded by bowls of freshly picked berries, chutney from last autumn’s apples, breads, tarts, and pastries, fresh vegetables from the garden, and tankards of ale.

Robbe, Mari’s son by her late first husband, sat in the wide window seat with a heaping plate of goodies.

“He’s worked up a good appetite,” Mari said, elbowing Dawe to look over toward where Robbe sat.

“He’s a good worker,” Dawe replied, taking some of the lamb and pig for his plate and adding some small potatoes and onions, as well as some of the pickled vegetables from the crocks. “I don’t mind having him down at the forge with me at all. He’s strong for his age, and he loves to pump the bellows.”

“Robbe adores you,” Mari said, giving Dawe’s arm a squeeze. “And so do I.”

Kestel slipped an arm around Blaine’s waist. They hung back for a moment to let the others get seated. “I wish Verran and Zaryae and the twins could have been here,” she said. “Connor, too.” Hired musicians from the village played flute, lyre, and hand drum in one corner of the great room, but at Blaine and Kestel’s wedding, Verran, Dawe, and the twins had offered their music as a wedding gift, much as they had played through many cold, dangerous nights to pass the time.

“I suspect that Verran, for one, would much rather be here than where he’s headed,” Blaine replied in a low voice that would not carry to the others, mindful of the need for secrecy.

“It’s just the beginning of the Long Dark, so the weather’s not too bad yet,” Blaine went on. “And the trip gives us an opportunity to open up trade again with Edgeland. Plus, we can warn the colonists to be prepared for unwanted guests, in case anyone from the Cross-Sea Kingdoms shows up.”

“I can’t imagine that Connor is thrilled with the trip,” Kestel said.

Blaine chuckled. “Poor fellow. No, I don’t imagine he likes the idea at all. Who would, even in the best of circumstances? And don’t forget, he barely made it to Edgeland alive, what with the Great Fire and then his ship breaking apart.”

“On the other hand, he didn’t make the trip in manacles,” Kestel observed, raising an eyebrow.

“True,” Blaine agreed, and they fell silent as they moved to join the others.

“Got three of you married off now!” Piran swaggered up, a full tankard of ale in his hand. “Not for me, thank you very much. I like being a free man. Too many whores, too little time.”

“More likely, too little money,” Kestel replied with a sniff. “Honestly, Piran, you need to find a woman who’ll have you before you get old and wrinkly. Or you’ll be pestering to stay in one of our extra guest rooms like a dotty uncle.”

Piran laughed. “Nah. I just need a wench with bad eyesight. Besides, we all managed to live together at the Homestead, which was tiny compared with Glenreith. I could move into one of the rooms no one uses here and you’d never know I was even there.”

“We’d know,” Blaine observed wryly. “We’d see the servants hauling the kegs of ale up the back stairs.”

Piran snapped his fingers, as if ruing the failure of his plan. “Damn. I’ll have to work that out.” He took a swig of his ale and wiped his mouth with his hand. He was wearing his best outfit, a brocade waistcoat over black trews and a white shirt, all of which had been looted from somewhere. Even so, Piran was never going to pass for ‘respectable’ company. And Blaine was fine with that.

“Are you still bending coins to amaze the trollops?” Kestel asked sweetly. Piran, another of Blaine’s Velant allies and new Lords of the Blood, had gained extra strength from the ritual that had bound the magic.

Piran grinned. “Works every time,” he said. “Or at least, every time I have a coin to spare. Ladies love a strong man.”

“They mean how much you can lift, not how bad you smell,” Kestel said with a grin, slapping Piran on the shoulder.

“Yes, well. They can’t all marry up with a lord like you did,” Piran bantered back. “Even if we didn’t know he was a lord for six whole years, right, Mick?”

“He’s never going to let you live that down,” Kestel replied, rolling her eyes.

Blaine gave an exaggerated sigh. “Probably not. Then again, there are a lot of stories about Piran we don’t have to stop talking about.”

“You mean like the time he won the ale-and-herring contest by outeating and outdrinking everyone else in Ifrem’s bar?” Kestel asked with a wicked grin.

Piran groaned. “I’d rather forget that time, thank you. Bloody herring.”

“I see it didn’t make you swear off ale,” Kestel observed.

Piran frowned. “Wasn’t the ale’s fault. Nasty, awful herring.” Piran and Blaine had both worked the dangerous, cold herring boats in Skalgerston Bay after they earned their Tickets of Leave. Neither one ever cared to see another herring again.

By this time, the minstrels had struck up a lively tune. Dawe and Mari were gesturing for the others to join them in a circle dance. The steps were familiar, as was the song. Even Robbe joined in. Blaine let himself dance without thinking about the steps, caught up in the happiness and energy of the moment. Just for an instant, if he shut his eyes, it could almost be as if none of the last seven years had ever happened, not the murder, the exile, or the many battles.

Kestel squeezed his hand, and Blaine opened his eyes once more. Her look gave him to know that she had guessed his thoughts. He gave her hand a squeeze in return. No sane man would have asked for what befell me in the last few years, Blaine thought, but I’ve made good things from all of that. Friends. Kestel. Fixing the magic. Fixing up Glenreith. Trying to get Donderath back on its feet. I wouldn’t have asked for the pain, but at least it hasn’t been for naught.

The tune switched, and Kestel led Blaine into another, faster dance, one that gave him no leeway to dwell on the past. He was certain she had arranged it that way. After several more spirited pieces, all of the dancers except Robbe drifted back to get more ale or just collapse into a chair.

“Do you think your aunt and Edward will ever make a handfasting?” Kestel asked quietly, her gaze going to where Judith stood beside Glenreith’s longtime seneschal, no longer pretending to be employer and servant.

Blaine shrugged. “For all I know, they already have,” he replied. “It would be like both of them to do it quietly, for their own satisfaction. After all, it’s hardly as if the world outside cares.” Once, such a pairing would have shocked Donderath’s elites, and the social pressure to avoid scandal would have pushed Judith and Edward apart. But the years of hardship and the collapse of ‘respectable’ society left the survivors of the Cataclysm to make their way in an unfamiliar, and unfriendly, world. Whether the attraction between Judith and Edward had always been present, or whether it came late in life, Blaine had no idea. But after all the pain his aunt had suffered, he was glad that she had found happiness amid the ruins.

Blaine and Kestel nodded to the guard at the front doors of the manor as they walked arm in arm out into the sunshine. Soldiers guarded the manor’s outer walls, and a protected corridor ran all the way from the front gates of Glenreith down to the permanent army camp over the hill at Arengarte, where Niklas Theilsson’s father once owned a large farm and mill.

“Mersed and Cosmin said they strengthened the wardings right before we came back from Bleak Hollow,” Blaine remarked. “I feel better knowing that at least one or two of the mages will be stationed here at Glenreith. They can move back and forth between here, Quillarth Castle, and Mirdalur as they need to, but it means the manor, the village, and the army camp have another line of defense.”

“Now if they could just uncover an artifact that would make better beer!” Kestel laughed. “In all the centuries, wouldn’t you have thought a mage somewhere would have come up with a bottomless vat of perfect ale, or the never-ending cask of wine?”

Blaine chuckled and turned his face up to the sun and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth. “You know, there were many times in Edgeland, I didn’t think I’d ever be warm again,” he said quietly.

Kestel drew in a deep breath of contentment and leaned against him. “I know. I felt the same way myself. And I certainly never expected to make it back to Donderath.”

“I wonder how Edgeland has changed,” Blaine mused. “It’s been a year and a half. So much has happened here. They might not have had all the wars and warlords we’ve dealt with here, but having the magic back, working and anchored, should have made things a little easier for them, I hope.”

Velant Prison had been an unrelenting nightmare. Convicts who survived a few years in the prison and its merciless fields, laundries, and mines were granted Tickets of Leave, papers that let them become colonists instead of convicts and move from the prison into Edgeland’s only town, Skalgerston Bay. The new colonists were granted a small amount of money and some land, enough for a garden to support themselves. Blaine, Piran, Dawe, Verran, and Kestel had pooled their money and land and built the Homestead, a small shared house and farm. Kestel had tended the livestock and farm while Blaine and Piran went out with the dangerous herring fleet. Verran played for money in the taverns, and Dawe took in smithy work. Some of the colonists ran businesses that served the sailors who brought supplies and new loads of convicts or learned a trade to get by, useful in a colony that often lacked essentials and received limited shipments from home.

“I sent a letter with Verran, just in case Engraham or Ifrem are still alive,” Kestel said. “I tried to catch them up on the main news, although so much has happened, it would take a book to write it all down,” she added. “Still, I asked them to send a letter with Verran in return, to tell us their news. There were some people I didn’t mind leaving at the top of the world, but I’m surprised at how much I miss the ones I did like.”

Blaine nodded. Velant killed the prisoners who posed a real danger. The rest had been sent away for small crimes. “There wasn’t much choice about depending on the people around you, whether you liked them or not,” Blaine said.

Kestel chuckled. “I’ll always remember the way the Spirit Lights looked in the sky, especially during the Ice Festival. They were beautiful. So was new snow—unless you had to go out in it. We certainly did the best with what we had.”

“That’s why I didn’t jump at the idea of coming back, when we finally had the chance,” Blaine said. “We’d built a good life there. It was hard, but less complicated than dealing with King Merrill’s court and the nobles. We made it work. I had made my peace with it.”

“You could have stayed,” Kestel said quietly, taking his hand. “No one would have faulted you for not wanting to come back. We had no idea what shape Donderath would be in. After what happened to you, it’s hardly as if you owed anyone.”

Blaine shrugged. “I’ve often thought about that, wondered how things would have gone if I hadn’t come back. Whether you and I would have finally gotten together,” he said, tightening his grip on her hand. “Whether someone would have found another way to anchor the magic. Certainly, other warlords might have risen, to bring order to the mess. But then I wonder what would have become of Glenreith, and whether Carr might still be alive if I had stayed.”

Kestel turned to meet his gaze. “Maybe things would have gone well in Edgeland. Or maybe with the magic broken, we all would have died. If you think it was important to restore the magic here in Donderath, remember how often a little bit of magic meant the difference between life and death up in Edgeland. The healers. Being able to make fire and light easily. So many things we relied on magic to do, or help with, because we had to do everything else the hard way.” She shook her head. “For all you know, you might have saved the whole colony by coming back to fix the magic. And Grimur was quite sure that you were the only one who could do it.”

Blaine shrugged uncomfortably. “Maybe. Although once upon a time, there had to be a very first Lord of the Blood, so it couldn’t have always been inherited. But I’ll grant you that coming back and putting the magic right would have made a big difference to the folks back in Edgeland.” He sighed.

“We were always on the knife edge up there, but things were simple and clear,” he continued. “Now, we’re still on the knife edge, but nothing’s simple or clear. Every time we defeat an enemy, like Quintrel and Rostivan and Lysander, we get a new crop, like the Western Raiders and the Northern Marauders.”

“It’s too bad Niklas couldn’t have made it home for the wedding,” Kestel said. “I know you miss him.” Niklas and Blaine had been childhood friends, before Blaine was sent to Velant and Niklas went into the army to fight the Meroven War.

“He’s doing what he does best, leading an army,” Blaine said with a shrug. “But you’re right, I would have liked to see him when we weren’t talking strategy.”

They walked on, up a small hill to where an oak tree stood on a rise overlooking the manor’s farmlands and the valley below. Several stone squares set into the ground marked the family graves. One sat far apart from the others. Ian McFadden, rejected by his family in death. The rest were clustered together on the far side of the tree. Blaine stopped in front of the newest marker, over the grave of his brother, Carr.

“I wish Carr could have accepted Dawe and Mari together,” he said in a voice just above a whisper. “They’re so perfect for each other. He just couldn’t get past being angry at me, for everything I cost him.”

“We’ve been over this before,” Kestel said patiently. “You saved him—and Mari—from that tyrant of a father. If it cost Carr his reputation and family fortune, well, look what happened to the rest of Donderath. It was just going to be a few years before everything went up in flames.”

Blaine knelt by Carr’s grave and said nothing for several moments. I want to remember him the way he was before I left. When we were close. When he trusted me to do the right thing and take care of him. When he could stand the sight of me. And yet, at the end, he didn’t betray me. That’s something. I just wish it could have been different.

“You know he’s watching over you,” Kestel said. “I mean, really know, not just hope like most people do. Tormod made that very clear. Carr is trying to make it up to you. Sometimes, people figure things out too late.” She stood next to him with her hand on his shoulder.

“I know,” Blaine said. “I just wish things had turned out differently.” Finally, he stood. “Let’s go in. There’s a party to enjoy.”

“Take the good times while you can,” Kestel advised. “Because there’s always something else sneaking up around the corner.”

“You’re a ray of sunshine,” Blaine said with a mock glower.

Kestel shrugged. “I’m a realist.”

“At least it’s quiet for the moment,” Blaine said. “Damn, but what I’d give just to sit around for an evening and play a few hands of cards!”

“Then do it tonight,” Kestel urged. “Surely we can spare a few candlemarks. Just don’t let Piran deal.”