Juliandra’s face crumpled and she nodded, indicating that she understood, as she struggled not to openly sob. Kevin watched her weep, wishing with all his heart that he could take her in his arms and comfort her.
To see her like that was tearing him apart.
“I never meant to cause you pain,” he said. “Please believe me, Juliandra. I never set forth to deliberately hurt you.”
She nodded. “I know.”
He sighed heavily. “What do you want me to do with your father?” he asked. “Given that he hates the church, I did not want to take him to the local parish, so I brought him home.”
Juliandra wiped at her eyes. “There is a cellar near the kitchen,” she whispered tightly. “I can have the servants take him there.”
“That is not necessary,” Kevin said. “I will carry him.”
“But you… you are injured.”
He smiled, but it was without humor. “It does not matter,” he said. “As your husband, it is my duty to tend to your father. Where is the kitchen?”
Juliandra pointed to the doorway behind her. “On the north side,” she said. “Are… are you sure that you do not need any help?”
Kevin shook his head as he turned for the door. “Nay,” he said. Then, he paused to look at her. “In the days and weeks and years to come, I pray you do not think too unkindly of a man who found more happiness with you in two days than most men find in a lifetime. If our lives do not join again, then know that I wish you the utmost health and happiness, Juliandra ferch Gethin de Lara. Even if we are not together, you will always be my entire world.”
With that, he headed out, limping and bleeding, leaving Juliandra standing in her destroyed hall. Making her way to the only chair in the room that wasn’t damaged, she collapsed on it and wept.
EPILOGUE
Brighton, Sussex
The brown pebblebeach didn’t bother his feet like it used to. He’d learned to walk on it since he’d spent the past several months here, letting a little cottage in the sleepy fishing village of Brighton and coming out to the beach every single day to fish for mackerel or anything else he could catch. At first, it had been difficult for him to focus on the art of relaxation, but he learned to settle down soon enough.
No battles, wars, intrigue, or spying.
It was the first time since childhood that he had known peace.
Perhaps not complete peace, but at least he wasn’t making himself ill any longer. That had gone on for months, unable to eat and drinking excessively. He’d literally made himself ill every single night and then every day, it would start all over again.
It was the cycle his life had become.
Sean had finally made him go to Brighton. When he’d left Juliandra in Wales and he’d refused to stay to Wybren, he put Gareth in command of the fortress and headed back to Trelystan where he had proceeded to turn into a moody, angry, bitter man. Kevin had never been the unemotional type and when word reached his brother that he was still not himself, Sean had summoned him to Lansdown, whereupon he had forced Kevin to take a trip to get away from the Marches and learn to deal with the unexpected thing his life had become.
At first, Kevin had refused to go anywhere. But eventually, Sean and his wife, Sheridan, broke him down and sent him off to Brighton because both Kevin and Sean had fond memories of the place, and Sean had decided that was the place for him to go. Quite literally, he had escorted Kevin to the brown, rocky shores of Brighton and found him a little cottage to let.
Sean had remained with him at first and they had enjoyed peace and relaxation as they had never before enjoyed in their adult lives. It was just the two of them sitting in the sand, fishing, having absolutely nothing to do but talk and fish. Brothers bonding as they had never bonded before. But eventually, Sean had to return home, leaving Kevin alone to enjoy the sunshine.
And here he was.
It was a warm day in late summer as a brisk sea breeze blew off of water the color of a pale blue gemstone that Kevin once saw a woman wear in London. It was a bright, rich color. Overhead, gulls gathered because when he caught a fish, he usually threw it back and they would dive in to gobble it up.
But they had to fight the dog for it.
About ten feet to his right, a big, black dog lay in the sand, waiting for the next fish to be tossed. The stray dog had found Kevin and Sean on their first few days in Brighton and now was Kevin’s constant companion. He’d named it Ax because it was dark like a steel blade and had a big, wide head, so Ax followedKevin around every moment of the day and slept at his feet a night. He was a good watchdog, too.
As Ax dozed in the sun, Kevin shifted positions on the sand, wincing when the wound Aeron had given him in his left thigh pained him. It was only now starting to heal correctly after having become poisoned for quite some time. When Aeron had stabbed him, he’d driven leather and fabric and mail into the wound, and it had festered repeatedly until a physic in Brighton had managed to clean it all out and sew it up tightly. Then, and only then, had it started to heal.
But it was inevitable that the pain in his leg should remind him of the last time he saw Juliandra. Every time he moved that leg and felt the ache, he thought of her. But the pain in his leg was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. As he lay back on the sand and felt the warmth of the sun beating down on him, he thought of that final day.
He relived it quite often.
He thought of carrying Gethin’s body down into the cellar as the servants directed him because Juliandra was nowhere to be found. He thought of the ride back to Wybren with Sean and Alexander and William, silent companions who stood strong alongside their beaten friend.
