We spoke more of the days leading up to Draven’s coup. I assured him my next visit was to the families of those who had been killed, and our conversation turned to Hawthorne’s future.
“Edric, have you heard of a Lady Evelyne?”
I could tell, from the look in his eyes, he had.
“A cautionary tale, an old myth, of a Hawthorne who fell in love with, and was murdered by, a Gyorian. It’s a name I’ve not heard for many, many years.”
“Not a myth at all,” I said. “She was real. And was not murdered but fled Hawthorne, in fear, living out her days in Gyoria.”
He was confused, as I’d expected. So I told him Adren’s story, one he clearly did not believe.
“Come with me,” I said, grabbing the old man’s hand. He followed me as we searched for Adren, finally finding him in the healer’s cottage.
“You’ve been hurt?” I went to him. Adren frowned and pointed to Hawthorne’s healer. “She is relentless,” he accused. “It is a scratch, nothing more than?—”
“Not a scratch,” Mistress Delia shot back, looking at Adren in a way I’d never seen her look at any man. “I found him limping along, refusing treatment, despite a broken ankle.”
“I’ve suffered many broken bones,” he said. “It will heal.”
Elydorians healed more quickly than humans, it was true, but in the meantime, a broken ankle would be as painful for Adren as it would for anyone. Not surprisingly, it was now wrapped. No one, simply no one, refused Delia. My mother had always said the healer was the only person at Hawthorne who terrified her. A comely widow who had served Hawthorne well, Delia was as revered as my father had been. Perhaps more so.
“Is he finished?” I asked the healer.
Delia’s grimace confirmed he was, though not of her liking. “His shoulder?—”
“Is fine.” Adren stood. “Thank you, mistress.” His fist to chest in parting was not overlooked by the healer, who understood its significance.
“We would speak to you,” I said, Adren standing and attempting to mask the fact that he was indeed injured.
We left Delia’s cottage, Adren glancing back to the healer one last time before she closed the door, and we walked a short distance when I stopped them both.
“Thank you,” I began. “Call it duty, or say what you will, but I owe you my life.”
“Marek was there,” Adren said, predictably. “He’d never have let Draven pull you away. More importantly, it was you who delivered the first blow.”
We would likely debate the details of Draven’s death for many years to come, but that was not what I wished to discuss.
“Adren,” I said. “Will you show Edric the pendant?”
He hesitated.
“He has been Hawthorne’s steward for many years. And has heard of Lady Evelyne, but believed her story to be a myth.”
“She was no myth,” Adren said, producing the evidence. “Lady Evelyne was my grandmother. She gave this to my mother.”
Edric took the pendant, inspecting it. After a long while, he looked up.
“This is why you offered Hawthorne aid against your own?” he asked, handing it back.
“I offered aid because Kael is my friend. Issa is my friend. And aye, for this too.” He put the pendant away. “They are not mine,” Adren finished. “Those mercenaries are like Draven. Ambitious, dishonorable?—”
“It is well known,” Edric interrupted, “Gyorians do not like humans.”
“Our king does not like humans. And aye, there are some who agree with him. But not all. Just as not all humans would betray their lord, or lady, to seize power for themselves.”
“Adren,” I said, not knowing how else to broach the topic. “You have been excommunicated from your clan by Prince Terran for remaining loyal to Kael, and offering us aid.”
He grunted his agreement.
