To Whatever End (Echoes of Imara Book 1) (46 page)

The men each embraced Cecily in turn, and her eyes misted over with tears. Daro shook their hands, careful to keep his grasp gentle, lest he hurt them with his newfound strength. “Take care,” he said as they walked away.

Callum hovered nearby. He sauntered over and brushed his hair from his eyes. “I suppose this is goodbye.”

Cecily’s mouth turned up in a warm smile. She opened her arms and Callum stepped in to embrace her. “Thank you again,” she said, “for everything.”

Callum lifted a crooked smile and shrugged. “What can I say? Even someone of my dubious heritage and questionable profession can do the right thing now and again.”

“He doesn’t give himself enough credit,” Cecily said as she looked up at Daro. “We never would have found you without him.”

“Well, I need to be off,” Callum said and turned to head back to the riverbank. “My displays of valor must sadly come to an end. The Underground is in a bit of disarray at the moment, and I have to track down the rest of those Sahaaran smugglers.”

“Will you be okay?” Cecily asked, her voice thick with concern.

Callum smiled as he flipped a coin into the air and caught it with deft fingers. “That I will. I’ve been through worse. Recently, in fact.” He paused in front of Daro and leaned in, his voice low. “Be careful with her.”

Daro met his eyes. He tried to sound confident. “I will.”

Callum’s gaze lingered for a brief moment, his eyes narrowed. He gave a quick nod and strolled off the dock. Daro knew the others must be wondering if he could be trusted. He wondered that himself.

“It’s in your pocket,” Callum called out over his shoulder.

Daro smiled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out Callum’s coin. At least some things hadn’t changed. Cecily put a hand on his arm and they turned to board the ship.

The sound of horses approached and they both turned back to the riverbank. Two Palace Guard reined in their horses. Rogan and Alastair pulled up behind them, followed by two more uniformed guardsmen on horseback. Alastair wore his doublet with the embroidered royal crest, looking tidy and official as ever. Rogan’s circlet sat on his head, a heavy crimson cloak over his intricately embroidered beige doublet. He dismounted, pulled off his leather gloves, and reached out to grasp Daro’s hand.

“You didn’t think we would let you leave that easily?” Rogan said. He reached out to take Cecily’s hand, lifted her fingers and placed his other hand on top. “I’m sad to see you go, Lady Cecily. I hope that all can be well between us.”

Cecily covered his hand with hers. “Of course. Perhaps we’ll see you next year when we visit.”

Rogan smiled. “Yes, I think you will, barring any sweeping crises. It will be good to spend time with our companions.” He turned back to Daro. “Are you certain you won’t change your mind about staying? Those Wielders Nihil left behind are dangerous. We still don’t know all they are capable of. I could use your help finding them.” Daro opened his mouth to answer but Rogan put up a hand. “I know, you have been through a lot and I have no right to ask anything of you. You should go home. But do consider returning. I will always have a place for you and I know the Paragon would be beside himself if Cecily returned. Times have changed. This isn’t Hadran’s kingdom anymore.”

“Thank you,” Daro said. His head swam and he wished they could get on with their journey.

Alastair clasped his hand in turn. “It’s good to have you back, my friend. I hope you won’t stay away too long.”

Daro nodded. His eyes began to twitch and he rubbed them, hoping no one noticed.

Cecily placed a hand on Daro’s arm. Her touch was like a cool balm on his fevered skin. “Thank you for coming all the way down here to say goodbye,” she said. “I’ll send word once we’re home.”

The gangplank creaked under their feet as they boarded the
Lady Violet
. Cecily went aft to see to their cabin. Daro stayed on deck, enjoying the open air despite the cold. He hardly felt the chill in the air; the deep pool of energy within kept him warm. He hadn’t even donned a cloak. The wound his implant had left behind itched and he reached up to scratch at his bandage.

Cecily came back to stand next to him and leaned her head on his arm. He placed his hands on the side of the boat, his breath coming out in a cloud, and savored the feeling of his wife at his side. A torrent of energy still ran through him, the voices called out, and his mind felt disorganized. But he took comfort in her, and the knowledge that she was taking him home.

45. CHOICES

Cecily tucked her silver necklace under her tunic as Daro wrapped her burgundy cloak around her shoulders and fastened the clasp at her throat. She brushed her hair back from her face and slipped her fingers into her supple leather gloves. They were in their room at the Float in East Haven, a cozy suite on the top floor with a four-poster bed topped with a soft handmade quilt.

“Where are you going?” Daro asked and touched his fingers to her cheek. His hands were warm.

“Probably to the bakery,” she said. “I just need to get some fresh air.”

He kissed the top of her head and smiled, then reached up to scratch the back of his neck. His eye twitched, and he blinked hard before rubbing it with his knuckle. He lay back on the bed and let his head drop onto the pillows. Cecily was growing accustomed to looking at his strange eyes, and they had spent long days at the Float, doing nothing but lying in each other’s arms. She relished the feel of him, breathing in his familiar scent, and basked each night in the knowledge that he would be there, lying next to her when she awoke.

Their trip up the Bresne River had gone without incident. Daro had been quiet and kept away from the other passengers, but she could hardly blame him. They spent most of the trip locked away in their cabin and both looked forward to a brief stay at the Float before making the trip home. Their brief stay had lengthened, however. They’d been in East Haven for weeks.

Daro sucked in a quick breath and Cecily glanced over at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked and picked up her small wicker basket.

He rubbed his hands down his face, but smiled. “Yes, I’m fine. I’ll see you in a little while.”

She left their room and made her way downstairs, through the common room and out onto the pier. A light snow fell, dusting the world with a brush of white. The river meandered lazily by, too deep and wide to succumb to ice, even in the dead of winter. She drew in a deep breath and let the cold air rush through her nose. The crisp, fresh air felt good, cold as it was. She was probably spending too much time shut up in their room.

She wandered down the street and kept her cloak wrapped tight around her shoulders. Her black boots kicked up the powdery snow as the chill air bit at her skin. The streets were almost empty; a few people scurried by, unwilling to loiter in the cold. Something tickled at her attention as she approached the bakery and she glanced over her shoulder. Two Imaran men stood outside a shop up the road. They wore thick hooded cloaks, but their tall stature and thick builds marked their heritage. She had seen them several times in recent days and couldn’t get over the feeling that they were watching her. Shaking her head, she told herself it was just her imagination.

As she pulled open the door to the bakery, she savored the warm smell of freshly baked bread. She kicked the snow from her boots and smiled at the baker. His head was shiny bald and he wore an apron smudged with puffs of flour.

“Back again?” he said with a warm smile.

“My husband has grown rather fond of your apple tarts.”

He wiped his hands on a towel. “He must have indeed. You are a good wife, braving the cold to come here for him.”

Cecily shrugged. “They make him happy.”

Since they’d left Halthas, Daro’s moods had become unpredictable. He was often warm and affectionate, speaking to her in quiet tones and touching her with a gentle hand. But his mood could turn and he would drift into listlessness and distraction. He often woke in the night, covered in sweat and breathing hard. He wouldn’t speak of his nightmares. The Paragon had urged them to remain in the city so the Lyceum’s Serum Shapers could help him, but Daro had been adamant they go home. Cecily was beginning to wonder if they had made the right choice.

She paid the baker and tucked the tarts into her basket before heading back out into the cold. A few lonely snowflakes drifted from the clouds and the buildings were crusted with frost. Daro wouldn’t mind if his pastries weren’t hot, so she took her time, wandering through the shallow snow toward the river. Her cloak kept her warm enough and she thought the fresh air, and time alone, would do her some good.

There were benches by the river, surrounded by a stand of thick trees, just a short walk from the Float. She brushed off the dusting of snow and sat, tucking her cloak around her. She set her basket down, took a letter out of her pocket, and carefully unfolded it. The words were scrawled on crisp cream-colored paper, the letters smooth and precise.

Lady Cecily,

Please accept my personal thanks for your role in stemming the tide of disaster that threatened the Lyceum and our fair city. The situation was rapidly deteriorating. Had you and your respected companions, along with our gracious sovereign, not stepped in, the damage from Nihil’s attacks could have been far more extensive.

I realize your relationship with our hallowed institution has been strained in the past. Under the former regime, you were expected to use your particular talents for nefarious purposes. As previously buried truths have come to light, I have realized your decision to leave the Lyceum of Power may not have been the flight of fancy of a lovestruck youth. I regret the rift that has formed between you and the Lyceum and I wish to extend the invitation to restore that relationship.

You know better than anyone the danger Nihil’s experiments pose to Halthas. He may be gone, but the Wielders he altered are at large, and this is a situation that is of grave concern to both the Lyceum and the Crown.

I will also be forthright and tell you the Lyceum of Power was all but ruined by Nihil’s assassins. They struck repeatedly and ruthlessly and we lost many good men and women. Thus far, we have managed to maintain the dignity of our institution to the public at large. The Magisters of the Lyceums of Vision, Stone, Blood, and Seed have all expressed their deep concern over this breach and there is a hole in our power that I cannot deny.

It is my hope that you will strongly consider returning to Halthas, when you are ready, and join us in rebuilding our honored establishment. I respect your need to withdraw to care for your husband as he recovers from his ordeal, but I implore you to consider a future here, at the Lyceum of Halthas.

With Respect,

Paragon Windsor

She clutched the letter between her gloved fingers. She knew the Lyceum was in a difficult position and it was a relief to feel as if they were no longer her silent enemy. The Paragon’s words tugged at her, calling forth images of a future she had thought impossible.
I implore you to consider a future here.
It was strange to imagine a different life, living in Halthas, working for the Lyceum. There was much that was tempting about the Paragon’s offer, but it brought forth doubts as well. Would she have to live amongst high society, socialize with her family? Even if she wanted to go, would Daro agree?

Shivering, she picked up her basket and set it in her lap, letting the heat from the fresh pastries warm her. The tip of her nose burned with cold but she wasn’t ready to go back to their room. She glanced down at the letter, and her thoughts drifted to Pathius. She could still see him as he stood over Nihil’s body and looked at her as if he wished to speak. There had been such pain in his eyes.

She didn’t understand why she felt anything for Pathius. When his father was still king, she had barely known him. He was the face of a future she didn’t want, but wasn’t sure how to escape. For years, she had believed him dead. If Nihil had done this much damage to Daro after months of captivity, what must he have done to Pathius over the course of those years? She shuddered at the thought.

The idea of Nihil’s Wielders wandering through the kingdom was enormously troubling. Rogan and the Paragon were actively searching them out, but she didn’t know if they were having any success. She tried to tell herself it wasn’t their fight. She and Daro had done their part and they were going home. He had been through enough.

But the more she watched Daro, the more her sense of unease grew. She was filled with relief and gratitude to have him back, but he wasn’t the same man who had set out for Halthas last summer. Nihil had altered him, and no amount of love or warm food was going to repair the damage. She and her companions had fought so hard to get him back. She wasn’t sure what Daro needed to heal, but she knew she was going to find it.