Persephone insisted on climbing to the top of the Spyrok once a day. She wanted to see the world, and there was no better view than from there. She also loved leaving behind the shackles of her keenig duties. If only for an hour, she could be just one of the birds that circled the tower. Recently, Nyphron had taken to joining her. At first, she’d found it irritating. This had been her alone time. She climbed the thousand steps, which she counted on five separate occasions, to find solitude. He was an invader. Yet as intruders went, the lord of Alon Rhist had proven to be…charming? Somehow, that didn’t quite fit but it was as close as she could come. How else could she describe how he matched her embarrassingly slow progress and pretended to need the occasional rest?
The two reached the top and looked east at all creation, cast in shimmering gold by a setting sun behind them. Wind blew. Wind always blew up there, and Persephone gripped the icy stone ledge and leaned into the cold gusts, which felt good after the long climb. The world appeared so beautiful; hard to believe that out of that splendor death marched toward them.
“Do you think it will be soon?” Persephone asked.
“Yes,” Nyphron replied. “The fane will have built his new army over the winter, same as us. I suspect they are already on the move.”
“How long, then?”
“We have time. Armies, even experienced ones, are notoriously slow. Supply lines need to be established, which will be the first thing we’ll target after the initial battle. Disrupt an enemy’s supplies and it’s like poisoning a village well—everybody leaves.”
“You’ve fought in many battles?”
He nodded with a smile that said he was being modest. He walked around the circle of the parapet with his arms outstretched. “These mountains, forests, rivers, and caves were my playground. I grew up exploring every crag, cleft, and shadow. And those that came with me became legends.” He looked out at the purple and gold of the most distant peaks and sighed.
She thought she saw sadness in his eyes and realized he was likely remembering fallen comrades. “Have you lost many Galantians over the years?”
He appeared surprised and shook his head. “Just two.”
“Medak and Stryker were the first?” She felt foolish for never having offered condolences for—
“Stryker wasn’t a Galantian,” he said with a little chuckle. “Stryker was a goblin. One of the many guests of the duryngon. I pulled him out of his hole thinking he might be useful.”
“And Grygor? Is he a Galantian?”
Nyphron shrugged. “Sort of. We picked him up a few centuries ago in Hentlyn during a clan dispute where—”
“He’s that old?”
“Grenmorians age like trees. Act like them, too. Some fall asleep for years, the bigger ones especially. Furgenrok, the ruler of the dominant Rok Clan, allegedly fell asleep for so long that dirt built up on him, grass grew, and sheep were grazing on his face. Legend holds that one little lamb tugged on an eyelash and what was known as Mount Furg—for reasons no one could by then remember—got up and turned out to be Furgenrok himself.”
Persephone smiled as she imagined a mountain getting up and dusting himself off.
“My father was the leader of the Instarya tribe. That made him lord of Alon Rhist, commander of the whole frontier. This granted me certain privileges, although not too many as my father wasn’t one for favoritism. But I was allowed to handpick my cohort. I chose only a few, but that was all I needed because I picked the best.” He placed his hands on the balcony ledge and looked out. “And the adventures we had.” He sighed again. “But I’m no longer five hundred, and there comes a time when you have to grow up, I suppose.”
He turned to her, looked straight into her eyes, and asked. “Have you had time to consider the proposal I mentioned when we arrived? I don’t mean to push, and I admit that I have very little knowledge of Rhune customs when it comes to marriage, so I apologize if I appear to be rushing things.”
Once again, Persephone was caught by surprise. “More than half a year between comments wouldn’t be considered a rush.”
“Good,” he said and waited.
Persephone felt flustered. “To be honest, I haven’t given the idea that much consideration. We’ve been together nearly every day, and you’ve never…I mean…I guess I thought you might not have been serious, or you might have changed your mind.”
“Not at all. I merely wanted to give you the necessary time to evaluate the proposal.”
I was right, charming really isn’t the right word.