Firebrand

“I know,” she said, “but I came back. I am too stubborn to be lost. Stubborn, like you.”

When they parted, he rubbed his eyes. Karigan stared, astonished. Had she ever seen him cry before? He took a rattling breath and collected himself. “I would like the complete story of what happened to you. The captain,” and now his voice tightened, “was vague on the subject, and your letter was, shall we say, rather lacking?”

“I, uh—”

At that moment, a hand rested on her sleeve. Startled, she looked up. The king. He had descended from his throne chair and approached from her blind side. She’d never get used to the loss of her peripheral vision in that eye.

“Your Majesty,” she said a little breathlessly. She looked down, unable to meet his gaze, for it held so much that remained unresolved between them.

“I believe your captain requires rescuing.”

She glanced at her besieged captain. All four aunts were still chivvying her about Karigan’s appearance, and didn’t she take better care of the people under her command? Thankfully, Karigan thought, they could not see her other scars, those of the flesh hidden by her uniform, as well as the invisible wounds within.

“Enough,” she told them firmly. “Captain Mapstone is not to blame for anything.” When this failed to quell their outrage, she added, “And do not forget you are in the king’s presence.”

That silenced them, and quite suddenly they each looked ashamed and started curtsying to the king and uttering chastened apologies. Captain Mapstone simply looked relieved.

“Sir Karigan,” the king said, “We are releasing you from duty so you may spend a couple days with your family. We hope you will be able to satisfy their curiosity about your most recent exploits. And to your family, We say, know that Sir Karigan has Our highest esteem. She has served this realm well and courageously time and again. She should receive no reproach from her closest kin, only praise and honor.”

Karigan stared at him in surprise. First, he had used the royal “we,” which she had rarely, if ever, heard from him. Then there was the rest of his speech. Her aunts looked astonished and her father very proud. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t known the king regarded her highly; he had knighted her, after all, but it must have made more of an impression on them coming directly from his mouth. It certainly impressed Karigan.

Her father bowed. “Thank you, sire. I have always considered my daughter exceptional, and it pleases me she has served Your Majesty well. But we have been enough of a distraction to you, as you must have important matters of state to attend to.”

As if his words had been prescient, there was a brief commotion at the throne room entrance, and a moment later, Neff, the herald, bolted down the length of the room and bowed before the king. “Your Majesty, visitors from—”

He didn’t have to complete his sentence for them to know where the visitors were from. Three of them, cloaked in shimmering gray against the winter, entered the throne room. The dim afternoon light seemed to stretch through the tall windows for the singular purpose of brightening their presence. The trio glided down the runner with long, matched strides. Not too fast, not too slow.

Aunt Tory tugged on Karigan’s sleeve. “Child, are those Elt? Real Elt?”

“Very real,” she murmured on an exhalation. A sense of familiarity washed over her. Not as if she had experienced this scene before, but more as if there were a rightness to it, like a thread of time that had been realigned.

Also, because the Eletian leading his two companions was well known to her.

“Lhean.”

He halted before her and nodded. “Galadheon.”

Aunt Brini loudly whispered, “Why does he say our name like that?”

Karigan did not answer. Unable to restrain herself, she hugged Lhean. She had never hugged an Eletian before, and he stiffened in surprise, then relaxed and hugged her back, if tentatively. He smelled of the winter wind and fresh snow. They had been through much together, the two of them, first the journey into Blackveil, then being thrust into the future. He was Karigan’s only living link to what had befallen her in the future, the only one, besides herself, who had known what it was really like there.

He studied her for a timeless moment, and what went on behind his clear blue eyes, she could not say. Eletians, their behaviors and expressions, were not always easy to interpret. Then he nodded to himself as if satisfied by his observation of her. “It is good to see you again.”

He swiftly turned from her, and he and his companions bowed to King Zachary. The others were familiar to Karigan, as well. She had briefly met Enver and Idris upon her return from the future to the present.

Karigan’s aunts watched the scene in wide-eyed enchantment. Her father, however, glowered. Karigan knew he distrusted all things magical, and Eletians embodied magic as no other beings did. She was sure he also resented them for any questionable influence they’d had over his late wife and daughter.

“We bring you greetings, Firebrand,” Lhean told the king, “from our prince, Ari-matiel Jametari.”

King Zachary stepped up to the dais and sat once more upon his throne chair. “And to what honor do I owe his greetings, brought in the midst of winter?”

Karigan knew she should be escorting her family out of the throne room so the king could conduct his business without an audience, but she couldn’t help herself. A visit by Eletians was momentous, and besides, it was Lhean! What, she wondered, would he tell King Zachary?