“I wanted to say how sorry I am, Dun,” Hadrian told his friend as he handed out another helping of food. “Was it bad, what happened after we left?”
Dunstan glanced up to see where his wife was. “It was hard on Arbor,” he said. “I think I looked worse than I was. She had to do most of the work around here for close to six weeks, but all that is over. I’m used to getting my head cracked now and again.” Dunstan grinned, then stared curiously at Hadrian and Arista, sitting arm in arm. Royce had just entered and Dunstan glanced nervously over at him. “You better watch yourself. He doesn’t look the type to be understanding about such things.”
Dunstan moved away, leaving Arista and Hadrian looking at each other, puzzled.
Royce hesitated at the door, his eyes on the girls as they sat at Modina’s feet. The empress was one of the few in the room to sit on a chair. It was not her idea, but the Bakers insisted. He walked over and sat beside Hadrian.
“Where are your shadows?” Hadrian asked.
“You look concerned.”
“Just that if you’ve started another war, I’d like a heads-up is all.”
“The level of confidence you have in my diplomatic skills is overwhelming.”
“What diplomatic skills?”
Royce frowned. “They’re outside. I talked with them about space,” Royce said.
“You did?”
“They speak Apelanese. And I do know some elvish, remember.”
Royce sat back against the table leg, his eyes on Mercy as she giggled at something Allie whispered in her ear.
“Why don’t you go talk to her?” Hadrian asked.
Royce shrugged, his brow creased with worry.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” Royce stood up. “It’s a little warm in here for me.”
They watched him gingerly step around those on the floor and slip back out. Hadrian looked at Arista.
“Go ahead,” she told him.
“You sure?”
“Of course I am. Go.”
He smiled, gave her a kiss, and then stood to chase after Royce.
Arista sat for a moment looking around her at all the friendly, rosy faces, talking, laughing, smiling. The bowls of steaming pottage were coming off the open hearth and making their rounds. Abelard, seated on an overturned bucket, was rosining his bow and plucking strings on his fiddle while he waited for Danny, who sat beside him finishing up a plate of lamb. The place was filling up and sitting room was getting scarce. Despite the crowd, a wide berth was maintained around Modina, who planted herself in the corner across from the door, smiling more brightly than Arista had ever seen her. Only the girls dared come within an arm’s length, but every eye in the room repeatedly glanced her way.
Arista stood up and found Arbor throwing a round loaf in the oven. She leaned against the counter and wiped her head with the back of her flour-covered hands. “That’s the last of it,” she said, and smiled at her. “I was worried about you,” she told Arista. “We both were.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes! The way you left that night, and then when the soldiers came—we were afraid for you. The village was in turmoil that whole week. Men came through here four times spilling the flour and searching. I didn’t know what they wanted you for—I still don’t.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Arista said. “That’s all over and everything is going to be different from now on.”
Arbor’s expression showed she did not know what to make of that.
“Say, do you still have that dress I gave you?”
“Oh yes!” She looked down at Arista’s robe. “You’ll be wanting it back, of course.” She started to leave and Arista took her hand.
“No, that’s not why I was asking.”
“But it’s okay. I took real fine care with it—never wore it once. I just looked at it a few times, you know.”
“I was just thinking you should try it on, because I think you’re going to be needing it.”
“Oh no, I’ll never need a dress that fine. Like I told you before, there’s no chance of me going to a fancy ball or anything like that.”
“That’s just it,” Arista told her. “I think you will—that is, if you accept.”
“Accept what?”
“I’d like you to be the maid of honor at my wedding.”
Arbor looked back at her, confused. “But, Erma, you’re already married to Vince.”
It was Arista’s turn to look puzzled and then she laughed aloud.
Hadrian caught up with Royce at the footbridge. It was dark, but the moon was bright and he spotted his friend’s dark figure leaning over the rail, staring into the dark waters trickling below.
“Crowd getting to you?” Hadrian asked. Royce did not reply. He did not even look up. “So what will you do now?”
“I don’t know,” Royce said softly.
“You realize that being the real descendant of Novron makes you not only the King of Erivan but Emperor of Apeladorn as well. Have you spoken with Modina?”
“She already told me she would step down.”
“Emperor Royce?” Hadrian said.
“Doesn’t really sound right, does it?”
Hadrian shrugged and leaned against the same rail. “It could in time.”
Except for the bakery, the street was dark, although there were some lights on at the manor house. They were tiny dots from where they stood, like bright yellow stars at the top of the hill.
“I hear you’re going to marry Arista.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Myron mentioned something about doing the honors.”
“Ah—right. Well, I thought he’d do a good job, and neither of us are real thrilled with the idea of a Church of Nyphron ceremony.”
“I think it’s a good idea.” Royce looked back at the water below. “And don’t wait. Marry her right away and start being happy.”
The breeze rustled the bare limbs of the nearby trees and blew a faint hiss as it passed under the bridge. Hadrian pulled his collar tight and looked over the edge. He stared down at the dark waters below.
“So are you going to look for who killed her?” Hadrian asked. “You know, don’t you? Do you want me to come?”
“No,” Royce replied. “He’s already dead.”
“Really? How do you feel about that?”
Royce shrugged.
“I knew it wasn’t Merrick,” Royce said, tearing a leaf and throwing it over the edge of the bridge. “I still remember his face, looking up at me. Telling me it wasn’t him. Explaining how it couldn’t have been him. He was confounded by it. Merrick confounded—that was my first clue. Today I got the final clue.”
“What clue?”
“Emperor Royce—he was terrified of that possibility. Royce Melborn on the throne—could there be a more frightening thing? That’s why he never told us. He brought us together hoping you would change me, but he couldn’t fix me. I’d spent too many years learning to hate. I’d lost the value of life. Then he learned about Mercedes. I’d lost my humanity, but she was clean. He could educate her, make her into the perfect ruler.”