The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [81]
“We'd better not find out,” Grace said, wincing. “I'm ready now. I just had to say good-bye to someone.”
The Spider let out a snort. “You should do what I do, my lady, and avoid getting to like other people. That way it's never hard to say good-bye.”
Somehow those were the saddest words Grace had ever heard. Maybe because they reminded her of herself not long ago.
“Oh, Aldeth,” she said and touched his cheek.
When they reached the castle's lower bailey, they found it empty save for a scattering of sheep and peasants. For an absurd moment Grace wondered if she had missed the departure of her own army. But no, there were Durge and Tarus, both walking swiftly toward her.
“Your force awaits you below the castle, my lady,” Durge said. Aldeth was right. His cheeks and neck were red as holly berries.
“I prefer to think of the army as being all of ours, Durge,” she said with a wry smile.
He glowered and grew a touch redder.
Tarus took her arm and steered her toward the castle gate. “If you don't mind my saying, my queen, I'd lay off the jests. At least until we're well on the road.”
“Understood,” Grace said with a nod.
They passed by the remains of the ruined guard tower—the rebuilding had only barely begun—and through the castle gate. As they reached the other side, Grace's heart skipped in her chest. Perhaps Aldeth was right; perhaps growing to love people was not worth the pain of saying good-bye.
Except it was, no matter how much it hurt. Lirith and Aryn rushed up to her, catching her in a fierce embrace.
Sisters, she spoke in her mind.
Hush, Grace, came Aryn's voice over the threads of the Weirding. You don't have to speak. We just came here to let you know how proud of you we are.
You are brave, sister, Lirith spoke, her voice as true and warm as sunlight. Braver than any of us. We will think of you every moment while you're away, and we will speak prayers to Sia for your safety.
And we'll speak to you, too, Aryn said. I know I'll always be able to find you now, no matter where you go. The Weirding will guide me to you.
Grace laughed despite her tears. Then I'll never be alone, will I?
At last, reluctantly, she stepped back from the two witches. Tarus was giving them a wary look.
“Did they just cast some sort of spell?” the red-haired knight said.
Sareth grinned. “Almost certainly.” The Mournish man approached and kissed Grace's cheek. He smelled of spices. “Let Fate guide you.”
She met his dark eyes and nodded. “I'll try.”
“My brother is right,” Vani said, drawing close. “Fate will lead you where you must go, if you will let it.”
Grace smiled and gripped the T'gol's hand. Then, over her shoulder, she saw a tall, rangy figure. Beltan.
Talk to him, Vani, she spun the words over the Weirding, and by the T'gol's wide gold eyes Grace knew she heard.
Vani said nothing, but she nodded before she turned away. Then Beltan was there, hugging Grace so tightly it hurt, but she didn't care, and she hugged him back as hard as she could.
“This feels wrong,” he said. “I don't care what King Boreas says. I should be coming with you now, not waiting until the rest of the Warriors of Vathris answer the call to war.”
“Boreas needs you as a commander.”
“My place is with you, Grace.”
She thought about it only a moment. “Is that really true, Beltan? Isn't your place with someone else?”
She felt him tense. Was this right? Was she working toward Fate, or against it? She didn't know; all she knew was that she had to do this.
Grace moved her lips close to his ear. “There's a way you and Vani can go to him. You have to find him and bring him back. Eldh needs him. We all need him.”
Beltan was trembling now. “Travis,” he whispered. “You mean Travis.”
“Yes. You see, I kept—”
“That's quite enough, Beltan,” said a blustering voice. “I'd say it's my turn now.”
Grace and Beltan broke apart as King Boreas strode toward them. Beltan's expression was one of wonder and confusion. Vani gave him a sharp