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I pulled out of his hold, prepared to tell him there was no need to thank me. It was why I’d come and why I’d be journeying across Lumeria and then through Northgall to heal everyone of this terrible sickness. But he wasn’t looking at me. He wasn’t thanking me. He was staring at my husband.
Goll dipped his head in reply and then said, “I’ll give you time alone and wait outside.” He brushed his hand on my back, then left quietly.
“Baelynn?”
My brother turned back to me, having watched Goll leave with that frown on his face.
“How was father in the end?” I asked.
His expression softened with sadness. “The night he died, he did say your name.”
“Oh, Baelynn.” My heart plummeted that I hadn’t been there to say my own goodbye.
“I lied to him,” he said with a quirk of his lips. “I told him you were well married to a fine house and living happily away from Issos.”
I smiled. “That wasn’t a lie.”
He blinked quickly, worry wrinkling his brow. “It wasn’t?”
I shook my head. “I am very happy.”
“Thank the gods.” He embraced me again. “I’m sorry you weren’t here in the end. But he went peacefully.”
For a moment, I wondered if I could’ve helped him since he’d been so far gone from the disease. It had robbed him almost entirely of his speech and his ability to even walk long ago. I suppose I’d find out how well my healing magick worked as I sought out other victims.
But then I had the sad feeling that the gods didn’t want my father to live, didn’t want me to heal him. My father had loved me, but he had also sent Vaylamorganalyn away when she’d only told him the truth in her vision. She’d been sent to her death in the dungeons when another king had rejected her vision as well.
Vayla had been touched by the gods to deliver her message. For that, she’d been outcast and killed. And now both of those kings were dead. I couldn’t help but know—and sadly agree—that there was justice in that.
My husband and king would not ignore the gods. Just as I would not. We would embrace their guidance as we stepped onto this new path together.
I gripped my brother on his upper arms so I could look at him and wrinkled my nose. “You need a bath.”
“Pardon me for being so unkempt, sister, but I thought I was on my deathbed up until a few moments ago.” He smiled, some color returning to his face.
I gave his shoulders a squeeze and then walked toward the door. “I’ll call up a bath for you.”
“Then I’ll take you to see Father.”
I stopped at the door and turned to look at him, his expression having returned to the austere one I was so accustomed to.
“I’m sorry, Una. If you suffered anything because of me, because of my failures.”
He still didn’t understand or fully believe that I was right where I was supposed to be.
“I suffered nothing at the hands of King Goll. You can put your mind to rest.”
He finally smiled, and I let him dress so I could say my final goodbye to Father.
I’d placeda cluster of primrose on my father’s tomb and had been standing outside the family crypt behind the palace for quite some time. Goll stood behind me, silently waiting. Silently supporting.
I’d cried all my tears for my Papa and wiped them all with the handkerchief that was once Goll’s mother’s. My father was the one who started a war he shouldn’t have but he’d done it out of love for his daughter. And perhaps some selfishness and prejudice of his own. He wasn’t perfect. But he was my father, and I loved him.
Dusk had settled. The moon was full and bright, glistening off the high towers of the palace. It always seemed brighter here at Valla Lokkyr. Perhaps because this was where Lumera’s most devoted worshipers lived.
The familiar sounds of evening in Issos surrounded me. A night lark called to its mate with a whirling cry. The chirp and buzz of the seekie flies echoed in the garden, their glowing blue lights blinking prettily. And in the near distance, the sounds of Issos itself—laughter outside a tavern, the neighing of a horse, the rattle of a cart on the cobblestone street.
“I’m sorry we didn’t make it in time for your father,” Goll said softly, stepping up beside me and taking my hand.
