“What?” asks Rhamuel.
“I will consort Kyedra … only if she will have me of her own free will.”
“It took you long enough,” says a too-familiar voice.
Lerial turns and then stands to see Emerya standing in the corner of the study, with Kyedra beside her. Kyedra is smiling, offering that radiance that warms him even when it is not directed at him.
A concealment shield … and you didn’t even sense it!
His expression must have revealed his thoughts, because Emerya says gently, “There are still some things you don’t know about order.”
Then he and Kyedra are moving toward each other, and no one else is in the study, not for them.
EPILOGUE
Lerial hands the missive to Kyedra, a missive that they have hoped to receive for more than a season. “You should read this.”
She takes it, but he stands at her shoulder and watches as she reads the words set so carefully on the thick parchment.
My Dear Lerial …
Or should I address you as Arms-Commander of Afrit?
Majer Altyrn always said that you would do great and unexpected deeds, and that I should not be surprised at where your deeds led you. I am surprised. I was also disappointed at first, and that is why this letter, I freely admit, has been so long in coming, but both your mother and Maeroja counseled me that what has happened has turned out for the best …
When he had read those words the first time, for a moment, Lerial had been surprised, but now he understands. His mother has always feared that his abilities would outshine his older brother’s and cause difficulties for Lephi and incidentally for the future of Cigoerne, but mainly for Lephi. Now those difficulties will not exist. There may be others, but not those.
… I have always hoped for better relations between Afrit and Cigoerne. That was why I dispatched you and your companies to assist Duke Atroyan, as you well know.
In time, once matters have settled slightly, I would hope that we might see you and your consort, either here in Cigoerne or in Swartheld, a possibility I had thought might never be practical in my lifetime. Nor did your mother and I ever entertain the possibility that we might have grandchildren ruling differing lands.
As for your aunt, I can only wish her the best. I have written her as well to tell her that. We will miss her, and Ryalah will miss Amaira, but they both deserve what happiness they can grasp in an uncertain and changing world.
Lerial nods as he reads those words, his hand resting lightly on Kyedra’s shoulder, making it slightly easier for him to sense already the life within Kyedra, although he cannot tell whether the child will be a boy or girl. Either way, he and Rhamuel, and Kyedra—especially Kyedra—will work it out.