As we drove away, the sentries shouted, “Huntress,” like I wasn’t tired of hearing it.
Rex cast a look over his shoulder. “Doesn’t that get wearisome?”
“You have no idea,” I muttered.
We took the journey in easy stages, and it was nice to journey with my family. Now and then we passed other travelers—and not just traders making supply runs as it had been in the days before the victory at the river. Some were human, some Uroch, and occasionally we spotted small groups of Gulgur, though they seemed shy and didn’t speak.
The days were chilly but not freezing, but the nights dropped down cold, and we huddled together under the wagon for warmth and comfort. Gavin acted a bit nervous at first, like he suspected this was all a trick, and when he got comfortable with the idea of being part of a family, we’d take it all away. But by the time we arrived at the big river, he was cuddling up to Momma Oaks. I knew exactly how he felt because I had walked in his shoes, wary and distrustful, unable to believe anybody could care about me without asking for something in return.
By then, the trees flamed with color on the Evergreen Isle. The name was deceptive, as only a portion of them had perpetually green needles while the rest turned crimson and gold, framing the village barely visible from this side. Rex paused on a rise, the mules shifting nervously in their traces. Edmund’s hand rested on his shoulder and Momma Oaks pushed to her feet to get a better look. She focused on row after row of grave markers in the field nearby. It hadn’t been long enough for grass to grow and it was too late in the year besides, so the graves contrasted sharply with the brown grass.
“So many dead,” she whispered. “It could’ve been any of you, all of you.”
Edmund shifted in his seat and dug for a smile. This was why I loved him; his steadiness kept her from sorrow. “But it wasn’t.”
As they spoke, Gavin nudged me, offering the tattered banner. “This is yours.”
But I had noticed how much he loved it. So I got out my knife and cut away the fabric Momma Oaks had used to sew my token in place. I reclaimed the card. “No, this is mine. The pennant’s yours. You guarded it well.”
Gavin ducked his head and curled up beside Momma Oaks. I could tell I’d pleased him.
“Let’s go,” Edmund said. “I’d like to see the place I’ll be calling home.”
The wagon trundled on, all the way to the water, where sailors worked the river. Rex whistled and I shouted until one of them saw us. He turned his craft, willing to help us cross. I cursed when he recognized me because his manner went from friendly to reverent.
“I can’t take everyone,” he apologized, looking stricken. “But I’ll send more boats to carry the rest, plus all your belongings.”
“You and Edmund go with him.” I hugged Momma Oaks, and she looked so excited as my father helped her into the boat.
She held on tight as the man adjusted the sail so the wind would send him back to the isle. Relatively speaking, it didn’t take long for more boatmen to arrive. It was lucky we had relatively little—and none of it heavy—but Edmund and Momma Oaks were skilled crafters, so we’d be comfortable soon enough.
Rosemere hasn’t changed, I thought, as Rex helped me ashore. My parents stood nearby, marveling at the beauty of the place. As soon as he got word, the governor came down to welcome us, shaking my hand firmly and expressing pleasure that I’d brought my parents. They seemed awed by the attention, and though I was past the point of savoring it, their enjoyment was reason enough for me not to run off with Fade or go looking for Stone and Thimble.
“How’s Morrow?” I asked when he paused in his polite remarks.
“He’s well, though it was a near thing. I have Doctor Tegan to thank for his life.”
“She’s amazing,” I agreed. “I’m sorry he got hurt. You probably blame me for getting him into trouble, and I’m sorry about that too.”
To my surprise, the elder Morrow laughed. “Not at all. Nobody has ever been able to prevent James from doing exactly as he pleases, not even me. The only thing I can do is be here when he comes home.”
Momma Oaks aimed a pointed look in my direction. “It seems we have something in common, sir.”
The governor smiled. “So I notice. You’ve an impressive number of bags and boxes for a visit. Have you come to stay?”
“If you’ll have us,” Edmund said.
Before I could respond, he was telling Mr. Morrow about his skill as a cobbler and how fine a seamstress Momma Oaks was. I could’ve hugged the governor when he said, “We can definitely use people of such skill.”
If there was one way to make my parents feel at home, it was by implying they were needed. I listened to them idly, leaning against Fade for warmth, until the governor decided nothing would do but for us to stay as his guests. I declined, preferring to occupy Stone and Thimble’s loft, but Momma Oaks, Edmund, Rex, and Gavin accompanied Mr. Morrow. His family lived in the largest house on the island, so there would be plenty of space.
Fade and I went along to our friends’ cottage. I rapped on the door, hoping they’d be glad to see me. Thimble’s face lit with pleasure when she answered and she swept me into a tight hug; I wasn’t the only one who had put aside lessons learned down below in favor of better and brighter ones.
“Dare I hope you’ve come to stay?” she asked.
“We have. Not with you,” I added. “At least not forever. But I’d appreciate it if we could board here while we figure out something more permanent.”
Thimble smiled as she stepped back to let us in. “Of course you’re welcome.”
Stone echoed her warm acceptance, and he seemed genuinely glad to see us. We’d all changed so much, but not to the point that we were strangers to one another. That night over dinner, we talked until our throats were hoarse, filling in all the gaps and smoothing the rough spots. Robin was adorable, and while Thimble cleaned up from supper, I held him, and Fade caught me smelling the brat’s hair. I ducked my head, conscious of how absurd I likely looked, but his eyes were hot when they lingered.
Later, in the loft, Fade whispered, “I’ve been dying for some time alone with you.”
He’d spoken those words before, more than once, but this time, I knew what he meant. I rolled over and kissed him, then we practiced some more, quietly, and this time, we got it exactly right. Afterward, I traced the scar on his side. Fade shivered at my touch, pressing closer.
“I came so close to losing you,” I murmured.
“You never will.”
I kissed him once and again, counting back all the times he’d kissed me, until I lost track of the numbers. That got him worked up again, so it was a while before we settled. But a quiet doubt trickled into my mind.
“What was that?” Fade had always been good at reading me.
“Is it all right? When I touch you.”
“It’s the best thing in the world.” But that wasn’t what I was asking—and he knew it. So he added, “I don’t know if I’ll ever be completely fine. And sometimes I have bad dreams. But when you’re near, everything feels better.”