Chapter Forty-Four
Owen’s father was true to his word and didn’t waste a minute before gaining support from both the Canadian and UK governments and galvanizing both militaries.
Within a few days, a press conference had been scheduled for the Canadian and British Prime Ministers to address the public.
Marcus and I made an appearance as well, calling on Druids from around the world to meet us in Scotland and assist us in the coming battle.
Only a few days later, the small town of Fortingall was a hive of activity with more Druids, soldiers, and equipment arriving every day.
A city of tents sprang up near the town with people milling about constantly, seeing to provisions and supplies, assisting with evacuations, training for combat, and amassing tanks, missiles, and other gear. We finally had the support we needed.
Apparently when General Marcus Grant spoke, important people listened.
My afternoons were devoted to practising battle spells with the new Druids, whose powers awakened with the Yew’s help.
Led by Freya, they prevented Loch Tay from rising farther and pushed the waters away from the battlefield and the town of Fortingall.
We also trained with the soldiers who had been hand-selected for the battle, using Charles’s illusions to show them how to cut down the wraiths once they were made corporeal.
Shae’s power continued to grow until she could amplify the Yew’s magic while healing those around her at the same time.
Owen’s sword became all but an extension of his arm.
The Druids and military formed a formidable team, with the Druids turning the wraiths into flesh, the soldiers killing them, and Owen cutting down any Shadowbane not turned.
Their record was one hundred and two wraiths.
Charles, however, looked older with each passing day, and the Yew tree continued to deteriorate. He insisted that he would have enough power for the battle, but I was increasingly worried for him.
Each day seemed to pass quicker than the last, bringing us closer to the final battle.
We all felt the strain. Our faces became drawn with worry, our voices sharp with tension, our words edged.
I tried not to sleep for fear that I would miss time with Owen, and I knew he felt the same way.
We eventually fell into fitful slumbers each night, holding tight to one another.
Our time together felt finite, and that terrified me more than anything.
The night before the battle, we shared a last supper with our friends and family and bid each other tearful farewells.
We had considered not saying goodbye, but that would have meant avoiding the truth of how much danger we were about to face.
As Charles would say, voicing what was in our hearts was important, especially since we had no idea what the future held.
I couldn’t thank Charles, Freya, and Shamus enough.
I cried in Shae’s arms and felt her tears on my cheek as she embraced me fiercely.
Owen and Jace clapped each other on the back and hugged for a long time, neither speaking yet both saying everything they needed.
I gave Jace a long hug and thanked him for his friendship and loyalty.
Marcus pulled Owen in, resting his forehead against his son’s and whispering a few words to which Owen nodded.
And then we parted, each person preferring to spend the last evening with their partner. Owen and I found ourselves sitting on the porch of our cottage, a place in Neamh that was more of a home for both of us than any place we’d lived before.
“You’ve always been honest with me, Owen. Right from day one. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you. So, tell me now. Do you think we have a chance tomorrow?”
Owen was silent for a long time while he collected himself, his arm tight around my shoulders.
“I think—I think the stakes are higher than they’ve ever been.
I think a lot of people are going to die tomorrow.
But if we have a chance, any at all, it’s you, love.
I believe in you. Not in your power. You.
Your kindness and empathy for others. Your ingenuity and cleverness.
Your courage to do what’s right even when it’s hard or seems impossible.
You. And no matter what happens tomorrow, the one thing I know is that I’ll always love you. ”
I cried softly into his shoulder, and he stroked my hair, kissing me and murmuring words of love. When he pulled back and tilted my face toward him, his eyes shone bright in the moonlight.
“I have something for you. When we started dating, I promised no fancy dinners or gifts. I wanted to set myself apart, win you over in more meaningful ways.”
We both smiled as we recalled our first two weeks together. Compared to now, everything seemed so much simpler then.
“I want to give you something so that you’ll think of me when you see it. And, of course, I want it to be useful—” I laughed softly at that. “—and I want it to protect you. Since we’re going into battle tomorrow, I thought this might be a good choice.”
He pulled a knife from his pocket and handed it to me.
The blade was about seven inches long, double-edged, and razor-sharp on both sides.
A spear-point tip ensured it would easily pierce both light armour and flesh.
But it was the wooden handle that caught my attention.
A black raven, etched with meticulous detail, spread its wings midflight as if caught in a frozen moment of motion.
Each feather was finely rendered with sharp, delicate lines, capturing the glossy darkness of its plumage.
“Oh, Owen,” I whispered. “It’s perfect.”
“I’ve never seen you as dark, Kira. Ravens are intelligent and insightful. They transform and adapt as needed. You are all those things and more.”
I was too overcome to speak, so I kissed him long and deep.
“Walk with me,” he said when we finally broke apart. “I’d like to ask you something.”
I nodded, love filling my heart, and we wandered hand in hand along a path that curved through flowerbeds and under arbours lit by a silvery moon. The evening air was warm and full of promise while fireflies twinkled from rose bushes and the scent of jasmine drifted in the air.
As we crossed over a stone bridge, Owen turned to me, taking my hands in his.
He kissed my knuckles, his lips lingering.
My white summer dress spilled around my legs as a warm breeze teased the flowing fabric, sending it drifting around my ankles in soft, ghostlike waves.
I drank in the sight of Owen before me, his eyes full of love, knowing I would remember this moment forever.
“Kira,” he began, then took a deep breath, his eyes misty, “I never—you— One minute.”
I smiled tenderly at this man, my best friend, trying to pour his heart out to me in this enchanted garden.
My answer was already yes, and I suspected he knew that, but there was joy in the asking.
In making it formal. In having a moment in time that we could look back on and remember with fondness.
“Kira,” he began again, “whatever happens tomorrow, I want to spend forever with you. However long that may be, in whatever form you would like. Husband and wife or partners on the road of life. I want a big old house in the country where we can grow flowers and veggies, sit on the porch talking while the sun sets, and laugh late into the night. I want to wake up beside you every day and spend rainy afternoons curled up together in our cozy library with all those animals you want.”
I laughed as tears of happiness rolled down my cheeks.
“I want to explore the world with you by my side. Whatever life may bring, I want to grow old with you. I promise to protect you and love you all the days of my life. Will you spend forever with me?”
All I could do was nod yes. Yes, a thousand times over because what does one even say to such perfection? I was crying and laughing at the same time and kissing him like I’d never let him go. He was everything to me and more, and, when I could speak again, I pledged myself to him as well.
Among the blossoms and under towering trees, we then dared to dream of growing old together.
We planned grand adventures around the world and spoke of all the places we wanted to explore.
We made quieter plans for our home as well.
We talked of children and of adopting Lenny or Jake or Chief.
Probably all three. There was talk of Owen selling his company and the money that would come with that.
Talk of me finishing my PhD and us living near a university but still in the country.
We did not talk about war. When tears came unbidden and panic rose in our chests, we quickly spoke instead of what colour we should paint our kitchen (sunflower yellow). What veggies we should plant (carrots, zucchini, and corn). How many cats we would like (three).
We talked all night, sitting side by side under the great Yew. It heard our stories and kept our memories. We made love in our cozy cottage, memorizing every detail about each other, savouring every breath, every gasp, every whispered word of love.
And on the morning of the last day of October, when the sun poured golden over the horizon, we stood ready to fight. For our world. For our future. For each other.
And then we went to war.