Chapter 6
Six
Nineteen days after Loric had rushed home to make battle with the sea dogs, my own travels were set to begin.
A carriage had been packed with my few belongings—order members were not to indulge in too many possessions because collecting and caring for possessions could be a distraction from duty.
I had tools for my work, a cloak, two day dresses, and a new nightdress.
It was made of a particularly smooth fabric, pale blue, and much shorter than I was used to.
It would do nothing to keep me warm in the night, which was intended.
I would be more apt to press against my new husband for warmth.
More apt to have a womb full of future goldkeepers or grainkeepers.
My family and all those who lived and worked in the kepen gathered in the misty courtyard to see me off as my personal chest—the gold Loric had gifted me—was lifted into the carriage. The other gold—the gold I was meant to guard and return to him—was nestled in the hundreds of pockets in my gown.
I kissed baby Dinah on the top of her head before she began fussing, and my mother took her back.
My mother’s face was stern. “If they used the old locks with a second pick hole—”
I nearly rolled my eyes. “I’ll know what to do.”
Her lips pressed into a straight line as she took her free hand and set it on the back of my head, pulling me closer to kiss my crown. The gesture was cold and lacking entirely of feeling.
My father was next, and it was his face that turned the morning into a challenge. There was water in his eyes, not falling, just resting there. He hugged me almost too tightly, digging the gold in my gown into my skin.
Elfrith, Hamon, and Emery likewise hugged me tight, tight enough to hurt and tug at my heart.
“You will be the most beautiful bride in all the Isle,” Elfrith said.
My stomach dropped a little. She would be our mother’s sole focus now that I was leaving. As annoying as she was, I wouldn’t wish that on her.
Dayne was last in line. His look stopped my heart.
I was leaving him alone in a quiet world of duty and obligation. He was the only one I spoke to outside of prescription. His loneliness loomed all around him, almost like a halo, and just when I thought I could bear the look in his eyes no longer, he rushed forward, wrapping his arms around me.
“Do not forget,” he whispered into my hair. “You are dispensable to the order. But you are not dispensable to me.”
A lump formed in my throat. Was he saying I should not die to keep the vault at the Hard-Won Kepen protected? If he were, that was nonsense. I would guard it at all costs. That was my purpose.
I relaxed my hold on him, thinking our hug was finished and we were parting, but he didn’t let go. The hug went on, and I began to feel that he couldn’t let go.
“We will write,” I said, trying to soothe him before the intensity of the goodbye became too much and I cried. “You will be a great grainkeeper, and I will be a goldkeeper, and we will do our work well and write often.” And then I added softly, “Dayne, you must let me go now.”
He obeyed, his jaw ticking as he wiped his cheek quickly to disguise the tears.
I think this moment sums up our lives perfectly. Dayne and I were bred and raised for work that took no account of our feelings. And always, I was the first to let go.
Rowan was there as well. And miraculously, powerfully, beautifully—as I walked to my carriage—his eyes flicked up to mine.
Green and full of sentiment. How many years had we lived and worked in the same space?
We’d spoken as children, played in the courtyard together before I was given my first iron gown and play stopped for me.
I’d thought so much about him as I grew.
But his look as I was leaving… Had he been thinking about me all this time, too?
So with an ache in my heart, and a little curiosity about the smith’s apprentice in my mind, I climbed into my carriage.
I left my family and home, choosing to look forward.
The journey would take at least a month along the ancient, stone road that ran cross-wise through the Isle, curving a little north when it passed the fjord at Kell’s Crossing.