Most people like windows, but I think they look like eyes—soulless eyes that invite things a bolted door is meant to keep out. Yeah, it is probably just me…well, and Persephone.
—THE BOOK OF BRIN
Persephone sat in the quiet of her bedroom, rubbing the silver ring that hung from the chain around her neck—Reglan’s ring. She tried to remember who had given it back to her. Konniger had been wearing it when he died. Someone must have delivered it after burying him, but she couldn’t remember who. Tope maybe, or Wedon, or—no, it was Tressa. Persephone nodded to the stars outside the open window across from her bed.
Yes, it was Tressa.
She had dutifully delivered the chieftain’s ring.
How could I have forgotten that?
Tears had been in Tressa’s eyes, her cheeks worn riverbeds from facing the loss of a husband. Persephone knew what that felt like.
Persephone had lied, telling everyone that Konniger died while hunting the bear. No need to speak ill of the dead or embarrass the living, but word had escaped. Word always got around in a dahl. Persephone had no idea how Tressa learned the truth, or who might have told her. Maybe Tressa herself couldn’t accept that her husband was a martyr, and had asked questions.
Tressa knew the truth, and yet she still brought the ring. Tressa was a bitch, but she was no coward.
The silver ring that had lived on Persephone’s husband’s hand for more than twenty years was all she had left. Some of that silver had been tarnished. Reglan had given Maeve a daughter, then ordered her taken away to die in the forest to hide his transgression. The man she’d loved unconditionally for twenty years, the man she’d trusted, had done more than just deceive her. He’d been a monster, killed a child—or thought he had. Such an idea was difficult to reconcile. Such tarnish was impossible to remove.
She drew the ring off the chain and held it up in the flickering light of the candle that rested on the little table. It had been a year. The mourning was over.
“I know you loved me,” she told the circle of silver. “And I still love you no matter what you did. Can’t stop that. Can’t make it not be. And…” She swallowed hard. “And I miss you. I miss you so very badly. Still remember how you smelled, you know that?”
A tear slipped, rolling down her cheek. She let it fall.
“We were a great team, you and I.” She bit her lip. “And it’s stupid the things I keep thinking of: the way you bounced your foot at meetings or the silly sound of your laugh. I sometimes think I hear it in a crowd. I look, but it’s never you.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “Things have changed.”
Persephone was alone in her room, isolated high in the Kype, surrounded by several feet of Fhrey-quarried stone. There was only the one narrow window, and it faced away from the rest of the Rhist. The door to the bedroom was closed. No one could hear. Still, the words were hard to say. She needed to hear them, needed to say them out loud to make it real. And maybe Reglan was listening. She hoped so because she needed to explain. “Things are different now that you’re gone. You understand that, right? You were always so practical, and I’m the keenig now. Yeah, can you believe that? Me, keenig.” She let out a little miserable laugh. “I have responsibilities, things I have to do. You taught me that.”
She let the ring slip into her palm where she squeezed it. She closed her eyes and more tears fell. “I forgive you,” she said in a whisper, but the words were loud in her heart. “I forgive you, my love. I hope you can do the same for me.”
She reached out her arm, opened her hand and let the ring drop. She heard the small circlet hit the floor and roll away. “Goodbye, Reglan.”
She cried then, deep and hard into the palms of her hands. After what felt like a long time, she wiped her face and took a breath. She felt exhausted, all the muscles in her body sore and weak as if she’d been in a fight. And she felt empty and alone, so very alone.
She sat with her eyes closed and head back, listening to herself breathe.
Then she opened her eyes and screamed.
* * *
—
Brin was known for being a fast runner, but she hadn’t been training daily for nearly a year the way Tesh had. She had slowed down to an air-gasping walk by the time they reached the second gate. That was where he finally caught up to her.
“Keep…going…” She waved at him.
Tesh didn’t bother wasting air replying. He couldn’t run, but he could still jog.