“I understand,” she said softly.
Waysa slowly took her into his arms and held her, and she held him in return, and for a moment she and her friend were of one spirit. She suddenly remembered the wild-haired feral boy fighting for her against the wolfhounds, the pang of loneliness she had felt when she realized he had disappeared into the darkness and she might not ever see him again. She remembered hiding in the cave with the boy who had left her the riddle so that she could find him, how he’d pushed her through the waterfall so that he could teach her to swim, how they’d fought together, run together, how he’d told her that she could be anything she envisioned herself to be.
“You stay bold, Serafina,” he said now, his voice shaking with emotion.
“Stay bold, Waysa,” she said in return. “Go find your people. And remember, no matter what happens, you have your family here. You have my mother, and my brother and sister, and you have me.”
He nodded silently as he slowly turned away from her. He shifted into lion form and disappeared into the forest.
Standing with her mother and the cubs at her side, the last she saw of him he was running along the ridge, and then he faded into the silver light of the glowing moon.
On a sunny afternoon a few days later, well after Braeden and Serafina had cleaned up the mess and repaired what damage they could in the house, the carriages returned from Asheville with Mr. and Mrs. Vanderbilt and the servants who had been traveling with them.
The footmen carried the luggage up to their rooms. Mrs. Vanderbilt’s maid and Mr. Vanderbilt’s valet began the process of unpacking. And soon Biltmore was filled with the normal sounds of the house, the bustling of the servants, the tinkling of teacups, Mr. Vanderbilt’s St. Bernard, Cedric, following him from room to room. The whole family was home again. The house resumed its old patterns, with tea at four and dinner at eight.
Upon hearing the good news that Serafina had returned to Biltmore, Mr. Vanderbilt asked Braeden to have her join the family for dinner.
As was his tradition, Braeden presented Serafina with a dress to wear. She had no idea where he got this one, or how he’d gotten it so quickly. Maybe he’d persuaded one of his feathered friends to deliver it from a distant city by air. She just hoped he hadn’t asked the black widow spiders to make it.
Wherever the dress came from, Serafina loved the lustrous deep-blue fabric, which reminded her of a certain mountain stream she knew. It wasn’t a full, old-fashioned ball gown like she had seen the ladies wearing at the summer ball, or a light, lacy dress for an evening garden party. Those would have to wait until next year. This dress wasn’t for any particular occasion, but a lean and formal dress for wearing to dinner with the family each night. And when she thought about that, it made her smile. That was just about perfect. This was her home now and her life.
She took a lovely warm bath, washed her hair, and then dressed for dinner in the red-and-gold Louis XVI room on the second floor like she had before, with Essie doing her hair. “Aw, Miss,” Essie said, as Serafina stood before her for inspection. “The dress goes so well with your black hair. You look right lovely tonight, with the biggest smile that I’ve ever seen on you.”
Serafina and Braeden arrived at dinner together arm in arm. Mr. and Mrs. Vanderbilt smiled and hugged Serafina, overjoyed to see her, and asked her how she’d been. As they sat down to dinner, Serafina was happy to talk with them.
Mr. and Mrs. Vanderbilt seemed to be in warm and pleasant moods, relieved that the storms were over and looking forward to the coming of their child. As there were no guests in the house, it was just the four of them this evening, with Cedric and Gidean lying nearby. Nothing felt out of the ordinary or awkward about any of it. It just felt right. She had to remember where to place her napkin and which fork to use, but her pa had trained her well, and facing a new challenge always did excite her.
Braeden seemed pleased to be sitting at the table with her and his aunt and uncle, content that everything was as it should be. He’d gone out riding in the forest earlier that morning, making sure that everyone was on the mend. She noticed a new brightness in his eyes, and a new confidence in his smile and his manner.
“I was talking to Mr. McNamee this morning about the plans for repairing the gardens,” Braeden said. “It all sounds very interesting.”
“I’m glad those awful storms have stopped,” Mrs. Vanderbilt said.
Mr. Vanderbilt nodded his agreement as he dabbed his mustache with his napkin. “Time to rebuild.”
“You’re going to rebuild?” Serafina asked, looking at him with interest as she thought about the farms and the village and the other areas that had been damaged.
“Oh, yes, we’ll rebuild,” Mr. Vanderbilt said. “No matter what happens, we always rebuild.”
“I’m going to help,” Braeden interjected. “I’ll be working on the plans and the reconstruction with Mr. McNamee, learning everything I can. I’m looking forward to it.”
“We’ll make everything even better than it was before,” Mr. Vanderbilt said, nodding. “That’s how we keep moving forward. Especially now.”
When he said these words, he smiled a little and looked at his wife, who touched her hand to her belly. “We’ve decided on a name for our little one here,” she said happily. “Shall we share it with you two?”
“Oh, yes!” Serafina said excitedly before Braeden could reply.
“Can you keep a secret?” Mrs. Vanderbilt asked, winking at Serafina.
“Believe me,” Braeden said. “She can definitely keep a secret. And so can I.”
“Well,” Mrs. Vanderbilt said happily, “we’re going to name our little darling after George’s beloved grandfather, Cornelius Vanderbilt. So if it’s a baby boy, he’ll be Cornelius. But if it’s a baby girl, she’ll be Cornelia. But no one knows about any of this, so you mustn’t tell anyone until it’s official.”
“That’s a wonderful name,” Serafina said.
“Yes, we thought so, too,” Mrs. Vanderbilt said with satisfaction.
“And what did you two get up to while we were gone?” Mr. Vanderbilt asked Braeden and Serafina.
“Oh, the same old thing,” Braeden replied, never wanting to lie to his uncle. For him and Serafina, “the same old thing” meant prowling through the night, fighting sinister demons, and living on the edge of constant death.
“I hope not,” Mr. Vanderbilt said, knowing all too well the kind of trouble they were capable of getting into.