Epilogue
Robin walked around the small pond between the forest and the castle walls.
Several geese swam serenely in the cold water.
The worn dirt path which skirted the pond was mostly a flooded wash of mud, but she did not mind getting her leather boots dirty.
After spending the last sevennight at the castle, she was happy to have a moment away from the bustling repair that seemed to be happening in every room.
Stoneworkers and architects filled the courtyard, their loud carving and shouts slowly rebuilding the damage that the recent fights had caused.
An endless supply of carts, local town leaders, and sympathetic nobles created an endless parade of traffic up and down the hill to the city.
The council room was packed with advisors as Ian, Onric, and a slowly healing Frederich discussed the future of Iseldis, Chendas, and the Five Kingdoms.
And Robin's beloved kitchens were perhaps the busiest of all as the castle staff attempted to feed and host all of these necessary newcomers.
Robin longed to return the familiar bustle of Lockwood—at least the busy-ness there felt less trapped inside of towering stone walls. But Ian needed her here.
He had included her, Sol, Aizel, and Lyra in every conversation about housing the Majis who had arrived on the ships. The castle had sent a large supply of food, clothing, and other resources to Lockwood, where Ilida and Bernard were quickly placing them in temporary lodgings.
Members of River's Talon from across the five kingdoms were opening their homes--from castles to cottages--to safely host and house the Majis.
As terrifying and new as it was to have the help of the crown, Robin was infinitely grateful that Ian had provided the Talon with every available support.
She did not want to think about the sickness and hunger that the Majis would have faced in Lockwood alone.
Nor could she have ever faced Ilida again if she had asked the poor steward to manage all that.
Robin smiled over the rippling water of as she imagined Ilida's joy at efficiently allocating actual resources to the people who needed them. She missed Lockwood. But she would be home soon.
As she rounded the pond, turning to face the back side of the castle wall, she saw a lone figure sitting by the gate.
King Frederich raised his hand in greeting. He was too far away to make out the expression on his face, but he appeared to be waiting for her.
Robin squelched her way through the mud and walked back toward the castle.
Frederich's leg was slowly healing. The castle architects had constructed wheeled chair so he could be easily moved around the castle to participate in the council meetings. Someone had brought him outside the castle wall to wait for her.
As she drew closer, she could see that he held a small wooden box atop his legs, partially covered by thick robe that was wrapped around his shoulders.
She blinked against the wind, her eyes watering.
“The castle has been loud of late,” the king said.
Robin nodded, coming to a stop in front of his chair. “Not that the geese are much quieter.” She smiled as loud honk from behind her punctuated her words at exactly the right moment.
Frederich returned her smile for a moment before his gaze grew serious.
“I owe you far more than an apology, Robin of Lockwood.” He looked down at the box for a moment before returning his eyes to hers.
“I am sorry for the pain I have caused you. I thought I was protecting my son . . .” He shook his head.
“That does not matter. I cannot give you back the time I stole from you, but I can give you this.” He held out the box.
Robin felt her heartbeat pound as she accepted the smooth wooden container. She did not have to open the lid to know what she would find inside. She clutched the box to her chest as a wave of anger washed over her.
But the feeling dissipated before it had even fully taken shape.
She looked back at the older man in front of her, his shoulders hunched from the weight of constant responsibility, his eyes sunken from days of illness.
She understood better now, what it felt like to be a single person who was trying to protect everyone they love.
She did not want to hold onto the anger anymore. “Thank you,” she said.
“You can leave me here,” Frederich said. “I need a moment of quiet myself.”
Robin nodded and walked passed him through the gate into the back courtyard of the castle. Still clutching the box to her chest, she slipped into the nearby stable and let herself into Rowena's stall.
Sitting down in the hay where no human eyes could perceive her, she ran her fingers over the soft sanded wood and rounded corners of the box. Then she slowly opened the lid, smiling through watery eyes as she saw a pile of unopened letters.
The morning of the wedding was crisp and cold, but the sky was beautifully clear.
Ian ran down the stairs to the back courtyard, taking the steps two at time.
He had been walking this route to his father's meeting room every morning just as he used to, but lately the walk felt lighter.
He found himself fondly cherishing every step as he knew the rest of his life was not tied to this same morning path.
Onric stood in the courtyard, pacing across the open space. His brother wore a blue velvet jacket, the same bright azure as the sky overhead.
“Are you nervous?” Ian asked.
“About today?” Onric replied, coming to a stop and placing his hands on his hips. “I have never been more sure about anything in my life.”
Ian grinned. He had expected that answer. Onric had been stunned when Ian offered him the crown, but Frederich's subsequent offer to pass on the kingship immediately had left them both reeling.
They had spent more than a sevennight discussing the political and personal ramifications of both decisions.
A carriage rolled through the open gate and Ian stepped back. Onric stepped forward to open the door of the carriage before the contraption had fully stopped moving.
Ashlin appeared moments later, stepping out of the carriage, her face all smiles as Onric caught her hands.
The wool cloak she wore for warmth slipped back over her shoulders, revealing the stunning blue dress that matched Onric's jacket.
Silver threads stitched into the blue fabric sparkled in the morning sun.
Ian reached passed Ashlin to offer his hand to Mistress Cedrice who was stepping out of the carriage behind her.
“A happy day,” the older woman said, by way of greeting.
“Indeed,” Ian replied, smiling at the two blue-clad lovebirds who had momentarily forgotten that anyone else existed in the world.
A loud squeal broke the need for further conversation as Meena dashed into the courtyard. She threw her arms around Ashlin, not seeming to care that she was interrupting the moment between her and Onric.
Ashlin responded with her own laugh, hugging Meena and welcoming her into the moment.
As if sensing her presence before he saw her, Ian looked over his shoulder to see Robin approaching from around the corner of the castle. She caught his eye with a small smile and his heart settled into his chest. He needed nothing more.
“Come inside,” Meena said to Ashlin, tugging her hand toward the family wing. “We have so much to do to get you ready.”
Onric pulled Ashlin back into his embrace. “One hour,” he said to Meena. “Then she is mine forever.”
Robin stopped next to Ian, her fingers quietly searching out his hand.
“You will survive for the next hour,” Meena said rolling her eyes at her Onric. She tugged at Ashlin's hand which she had never released.
“That is questionable,” Onric replied, releasing his bride.
Ashlin laughed, smiling over her shoulder at Onric as Meena pulled her away.
Onric's eyes followed her until she and Meena had disappeared through the castle doorway, then his smile turned into a pretend grimace.
“It's a good thing Meena is leaving for Chendas with Sol, or I would never get a moment alone with my wife.” He turned to Ian and Robin, unable to hide his smile after calling Ashlin his wife.
“She will have plenty to keep her hands busy in Chendas,” Ian affirmed.
Robin nodded at his side. “It will not be an easy task.”
With Gareth's death, Chendas had been left without a king or an heir to the throne. Frederich had used his influence within the Council of Five Kingdoms to install Sol as a sort of restorative regent—but someone still had to root out the last of Gareth's treachery from the heart of his own palace.
Frederich had volunteered to bear the brunt of that task, in part to atone for the blindness he had shown as king.
It was why he had been so eager to pass his crown to Onric at once.
Freed of his own throne yet still carrying the respect of a former king, he could travel to Chendas and absorb the resistance that would inevitably come from the local nobles.
But the long-term plan reached even further.
They would position Sol—a Majis—as the kingdom's next ruler, whether through a crown of his own or some new, council-led form of government.
“Meena could charm the warmth out of a stone, she will have no trouble winning the hearts of every noble in Chendas,” Onric said. He straightened the front of his elaborate jacket and rolled his shoulders back. “I must see to our arriving guests.” He looked toward the castle.
“You will make a good king,” Robin said. Her voice was not emotional, but Ian could hear the sincerity in it. She did not offer empty compliments.