Epilogue
Castle Questing
One month later
“You look very beautiful,” Blayth said. “I have the most beautiful wife in all the world.”
Asmara cast him a look that could only be described as hateful.
It was late on a mild autumn day as they rode with William, Scott, Troy, Patrick, and eight hundred de Wolfe soldiers on their return to Castle Questing.
The comment had come from Blayth because his wife was dressed in a lovely frock, courtesy of Penelope, on the occasion of visiting Castle Questing and, consequently, meeting family and relatives for the first time.
But it had been a hard fight.
Penelope and Asmara were roughly the same size, with coloring that was also similar, so before departing Lioncross Abbey, Penelope had given Asmara three lovely gowns she’d brought with her so that Asmara would have something nice to wear.
It had been a very sweet gesture, as Penelope and Asmara had become very close over the past month, but Asmara had never worn feminine clothing in her life and was very embarrassed to do so.
She felt like a fool.
But the appreciative expressions of her husband, and his brothers, had changed that attitude somewhat.
Not much, but a little. Asmara was receiving attention she normally didn’t receive and it was flattering, although she didn’t want to admit it.
Penelope had even shown Asmara how to fashion her hair so that it was both pretty and practical.
No more long, silky strands of dark hair blowing in the wind.
Now, it was braided and pinned to the nape of her neck.
She kept scratching at her neck, at the iron pins that poked, while Blayth watched her with amusement.
One too many amused looks and she punched him.
But he’d laughed at her, taking it in stride.
The de Wolfe brothers knew better than to comment to Asmara; they’d grown up with a sister who was also a warrior, and fine compliments would only bring them pain.
Therefore, they let Blayth take the brunt of Asmara’s frustration with her new ladylike appearance.
But the truth was that she looked quite lovely.
Beneath a crisp blue sky, the returning de Wolfe party mounted the hill that led to Castle Questing, and Blayth and Asmara were once again faced with an enormous English castle that took up nearly the entire top of a hill.
William had explained that Scotland wasn’t far off, and it was his job to police this portion of the border, but Asmara found it all quite fascinating.
The landscape this far north was different from that of Wales, but just as beautiful, she thought.
She had thoroughly enjoyed the trip and the opportunity to see parts of England.
Although she missed her home, and her family, she could not have been happier, or more content, with Blayth.
She knew her father would have approved.
In truth, the past month for them had been life-changing for them both. Blayth had spent the time with his brothers and father at Lioncross, listening to night after night of tales from his past, as they all tried to stir memories long buried.
William refused to believe that they were gone completely, so he’d spent his days with Blayth, speaking of events from his childhood and from the days when he’d fostered.
Asmara listened as well, learning of her husband’s past. Sometimes, Blayth thought he might actually remember what he was being told, but other times, there was no recognition at all.
But the fact remained that William, Scott, Troy, and Patrick never gave up.
They were so thrilled to have their son and brother returned to them that it was a genuine joy speaking on things he no longer remembered.
Even though he’d changed somewhat, and his memory was mostly gone, they all saw characteristics in the man that had never left him.
He was still quiet, with a ready humor, and he still became quite emotional about certain things.
That was the brother they remembered. And the love he felt for his family, even though he didn’t really remember much about them, was ready and prevalent.
Love was something that couldn’t be forgotten.
But those conversations about the past also brought up conversations about the future, and it was quickly determined that Blayth really couldn’t return to Wales, nor did he want to.
What he’d left there was an episode of his life and he genuinely wanted to return to the House of de Wolfe and resume his former life as best he was able, with Asmara by his side.
It was then that William was forced to tell him that he had been married before, and he had two children as a result.
Ronan had been six years of age and his daughter, Isabella, had been born when he’d been in Wales.
The little girl was five years of age now and the only father she’d ever known was the man her mother had married two years after her father’s “passing”.
Owen le Mon was from a fine family, a knight who had served at a neighboring castle, and he’d accepted Ronan and Isabella as if they were his own.
Blayth had heard that his children and his first wife had resumed their happy life after his disappearance and he had no intention of disturbing that.
But the fact remained that he had been married before, putting his marriage to Asmara in jeopardy.
William and Blayth consulted with a priest local to Lioncross to discuss the issue, but after much discussion with the priest and a good deal of deliberation, the priest decided that James, for the most part, no longer existed and the man Blayth had taken his place.
In the church’s view, that meant there was no marriage between Blayth and Rose.
It wasn’t only Blayth who had been relieved to hear that, but Asmara.
Suspecting she was pregnant, she didn’t particularly want her child to be born a bastard. And as they finally arrived in Questing’s enormous bailey, Asmara had the confidence in her marriage and in her husband enough to be secure in their love and in their future.
And that was why they had come to Castle Questing.
“Come down, cariad,” Blayth said as he dismounted his steed and quickly came around her horse to help her dismount. “Get down and stretch your legs. You must be exhausted.”
Asmara slid into his arms, feeling his strength around her. She kissed his fuzzy face. “I am fine,” she said, looking around. “I am much more interested in this place. It is enormous.”
Blayth held on to her as she stretched out her back. He, too, was looking around, feeling a twinge of recognition. It was another place he’d seen in his dreams, with big towers and sand-colored walls.
“It is,” he agreed quietly. “I was born here, so I am told.”
Asmara heard the tone in his voice and she turned to look at him. “Do you recognize it?”
He nodded, faintly. “I think so,” he said. “I feel as if I do. It is a very strange feeling, as if I have been here before.”
As they stood there, Patrick and Troy came to stand with them. On the trip north, they had left Scott at his home in the south of Cumbria, but Troy and Patrick’s homes were here in the north, with their father. They had continued onward, all the way to Questing.
“Well?” Patrick said. “Do you recognize the place?”
Blayth nodded. “I was telling Asmara that I feel as if I have been here before.”
“You should,” Troy said. “You have spent a large portion of your life here. Of our siblings, no one lives here year-round any longer, but they are all nearby with the exception of Penelope and Scott. And Katheryn, your twin, lives at Berwick. I am sure you will see her shortly.”
Blayth smiled faintly. “I should like to,” he said. But his attention moved back to the vast castle around them. “I am looking forward to getting reacquainted with everyone.”
Patrick started to speak, but something over Blayth’s head caught his attention. He cleared his throat softly.
“Mother is coming,” he said quietly.
Everyone turned to see William walking towards them, his arm around the shoulders of a petite woman clad in a cloak against the cool autumn breeze.
Her honey-blonde hair was pulled back into a bun at the back of her head, and she wore a loose wimple about her head and neck.
She was older, but the expression on her face was intense and ageless.
Her green eyes were riveted on Blayth as she came closer, and closer still.
Troy and Patrick backed away, affording their mother some private space as she came face to face with the son she thought she’d lost. When Jordan came to within a foot or so of Blayth, William spoke.
“Blayth,” he said softly, “this is your mother, Jordan.”
Blayth stared at the woman. Unlike his father or brothers, where there had been only a small amount of recognition, the moment he looked into his mother’s eyes, he knew her.
It was a very strong feeling he had, a connection he didn’t have with any of the other members of his family.
The bond between mother and child was like nothing else and, in this case, it broke the boundaries of amnesia.
His eyes grew moist when she reached out, offering him her hand. He took it quickly.
“I have seen ye in my dreams for five long years,” she said in her heavy Scots accent. “I’ve talked tae ye in my dreams and told ye how much I loved ye. Have ye heard me?”
Tears pooled in his eyes. “I think I have.”
Jordan smiled. “When ye were a wee lad, I called ye Jamie,” she said. “Do ye remember?”
He sniffled. “I do not. I am sorry.”
Jordan gazed at him a moment, studying the new man her son had become, before lifting her hand to touch the damaged side of his head. Her fingers were gentle as she acquainted herself with the new side of him, tender yet probing, as only a mother could be.