He drew his scepter, pointed it at the bark, and chanted, and by the time she’d joined him, he had finished. “What do you think?”
“A sweet gesture, Lae.” She smiled. “Is it a tradition of some kind?”
Brushing his hand over the inscription, he made certain that he’d formed the heart shape and their initials, “L T” and “V P,” so that they were legible. “Somewhat, yes. Your people don’t do sentimental things like this?”
“You would have a hard time finding a tree so big in the city, and even if you did, the law prohibits marring them.”
“A shame.” He grinned. “It doesn’t surprise me, though. The theocrats seem to prefer their perfect shrubs, pristine lawns, and impeccable buildings.”
“Your people just let things go without care or regard?”
“Not exactly. We maintain things within reason, but we tend to avoid absolute perfection. It’s unachievable, and in Sorbia, we’ve learned that beauty can be found in letting things be as they are.”
“I thought I knew most everything there was to know about you. It would seem that I have a lot more figuring to do.”
He took her hand, then continued toward his home. “We have a lifetime ahead of us.”
* * *
Rounding the last bend of the road, he saw his house on the rise. Ma stood on the porch, her broom in hand, toiling away at the dirt. That woman will never learn. What am I saying? She’s a Telpist. Stubborn and willful as the day is long. A sudden wind came, and when it reached his mother, she clenched her fists. “Blasted breeze fouling up my hard work!”
“I’ll never understand why you don’t use a spell and be done with it.” He stepped onto the porch.
Ma dropped the broom. “Lae?” She rushed over to him and gave him a big hug, then picked at his hair. “I’ll have to cut this-”
“Ma…”
“What? You’ve gone this whole time without grooming? Your hair looks much better when it’s short-”
“Ma…”
“Let me grab the scissors-”
“Ma!”
She stopped, then turned to Valyrie. “Oh, I apologize. I didn’t see you had a guest.”
“Ma, this is Valyrie Pembry.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Filadrena said, offering her hand. “I can’t say that Laedron has ever mentioned you. Are you from Reven’s Landing? No, I would’ve heard the name of your family, at least. Westmarch, perhaps?”
Valyrie gently shook his mother’s hand, and Laedron could tell she was nervous. “No, madam.”
“I see. Well?”
“She’s from Azura, Ma, and I’ve asked her to come home with me.”
“Azura?”
“And I love her.”
“Love…?” Filadrena paused, her eyebrows high. “The capital of the theocracy? You’ve brought a Heraldan girl home, Lae?”
Overbearing and to the point, as always. Sometimes, Laedron wished he wasn’t related to his ma because she seemed to treat only her children in such a haughty way. Although he knew that she meant well, was sometimes uncomfortably blunt. “I did.”
“Let me get a look at her, then.” Filadrena squinted and circled Valyrie as if examining a farm animal prior to purchasing. “Tall, slender build, and beautiful-”
“Ma, enough.” He slapped his hands against his hips.
“I’m kidding, Lae.” Filadrena took Valyrie in an embrace. “If you don’t recall, I married a Heraldan, your father, so I can’t hold too much prejudice. She seems like a fine, upstanding young woman.”
“She is, Ma.” He put his arm around Valyrie’s waist. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
“That’s good. If you can stay together through the tough bits, you stand a better chance of lasting.” She gestured for them to enter. “Come, I need to check on my tea. Would you care for some?”
He nodded, then led Valyrie inside. The same, yet so different. The living room hadn’t changed, but he felt awkward at seeing it. The place didn’t feel quite like his home anymore, probably because he had been on the road for so long. Almost a solid month of camping, renting rooms, and-for a brief while-staying with Ismerelda had lessened the draw of hearth and home that he was certain he would have felt upon returning.
Filadrena poured three cups of tea and dropped pinches of sugar and cuts of lemon into each. Laedron and Valyrie sat opposite her at the counter.
Handing out the cups, Ma smiled. “I’ll wager that you’ve never had a cup of tea so fine west of the Great Winding.”
“I’ve never had one at all,” Valyrie said, then sipped it. “It’s amazing, ma’am.”
“You can call me ‘Ma,’ Valyrie. Everybody else around here seems comfortable with it.”
“In that case, call me ‘Val.’”
“All right, Val.” Ma set her tea on the counter. “Did you two have a good journey home?”
They bobbed their heads at the same time.
“Good. Show her around the house, Lae. Make her feel at home.”
His eye twitched because he had expected Ma to say something else entirely. “You don’t want to hear about our mission?”
“What’s to know? I know the beginning and the end, the two most important parts for me. The middle-the journey-is for you to know.” Taking the empty cups to the basin, she glanced at them. “You’re surprised?”
“I only thought you might be interested in hearing about it.” He sighed. “Ismerelda is dead, Ma.”
She nodded, turning back to the sink. “I know.”
“You do? How?”
“We heard about the attack on the academy, and a few days later, Laren and I set out to Westmarch to find you. When we got to Ismerelda’s house, you weren’t there. Fearing the worst, we went to Morcaine to learn the details-the names of those killed, where the survivors had gone. They took us to the rows of unidentified dead, and there, we found Ismerelda. Since we knew her-I told them I was her aunt-they allowed us to take her body, and we laid her to rest here in Reven’s Landing.”
“But you didn’t find me there.” He smiled.
She lowered her chin and grinned. “But not you, my son. It gave me hope, and that hope grew stronger as time went along. ‘If we’ve had no news,’ I would tell myself, ‘that’s good news indeed.’”
“Where’d you go after that? Marac said you vanished without a trace.”
“We went to Cael’Bril, one of the few neutral countries left when the war started. Throughout the conflict, we heard rumors of a sorcerer and a handful of knights deep in Heraldan territory, and when I found out it was you, I prayed for your safe return. And now, my prayers have been answered.”
“Where is Laren, anyway?”
“She’s been spending more time by the creek of late, for she’s had mixed emotions over the last week on account of Bordric Reven’s passing.”
He blinked. “Passed? Marac’s father?”
“Indeed. An accident in the mill-a fall, if memory serves-claimed him. Did… his son survive?”
“Yes, he’s probably been home for an hour or more by now.” He glanced at the window. “I need to see him.”
“He needs his family right now, Lae. Give him some time to adjust, to grieve with his loved ones.”
“Perhaps you’re right, Ma. I’ll go this evening when he’s had some time to take it in.”
“Good.” She wiped her hands on a linen hanging from the stove. “If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve planned a feast. I’ll fetch something at the market; there’s still time yet.”
“We’ll go, Ma. It’s no trouble.”
“No, no, you rest and show Val the house. The walk and the fresh air will do me some good.” She took her traveling shawl from the rack, wrapped it about her shoulders, then walked out the front door.
“A shawl? In this heat?” Valyrie asked.
“A woman must always be proper and dress according to her status,” he said, laughing at the end. “Sorry. We posed the same question to her a number of times, and that’s what she always told us.”
“Is she nobility?”
“Gentry, I would say, but not by royal decree. The people of this village respected my father, and when he passed, they held the rest of us up in the same light, and it wasn’t just because his title had been inherited by my mother.”