‘You tell him Cooper Brooke is in shackles. Tell him there’s no way in or out now. Then you tell him that if he doesn’t take his men and go home,ourmen are going to come down from that wall and collect all your heads. Did you get that?’
A dazed nod had been the soldier’s only reply before Astin shoved him through the door.
Astin had then fought on the ground alongside Harlan, the other defenders, and hundreds of merchants while defenders atop the wall struck down the English soldiers left and right with their sharp aim and sharper arrows.
When the borough was secured, prisoners were taken to a holding in the nobility borough, because the tower in the royal borough was no longer an option. They were queued down the road, forced to watch their dead comrades being burned while they waited to be locked up.
The English soldiers did not get a burial. Nor would Cooper Brooke.
It was dark by the time Astin returned to the farmhouse, tentatively stepping inside. He half expected Cooper to burst in the room at any moment armed with a log. Instead, he found Presley seated in a chair by the fireplace with Rose asleep on top of her.
Presley teared up at the sight of him. ‘You’re alive.’
He nodded. ‘Sorry. There was a lot to do.’ He looked around for their mother’s corpse. He had carried her inside before they had fled earlier that day, but she was not there.
‘She came here looking for you,’ Presley said, resting a hand on her daughter’s back.
‘Lyndal?’
A nod. ‘She took care of Mother, got her ready for burial.’
Of course Lyndal had come looking for him, and of course she had helped when finding two people in need of it. ‘How did she seem?’
‘Bossy.’
Astin smiled at the ground. ‘Sounds about right.’
‘You didn’t happen to pass our bull on your way here?’
He shook his head. ‘He’ll show up. There’s no way he’d fit through that door.’
Presley exhaled, eyes shiny with tears. ‘Rose is mine now. No matter what happens, I get to keep her.’
He nodded, knowing what that meant to his sister. ‘She’s all yours.’ His eyes fell to a sleeping Rose, far too big and heavy to be lap napping yet somehow fitting perfectly. ‘Let’s get her into bed.’ Stepping forwards, he carefully picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. He was surprised to find only one bed in there.
‘She sleeps with me,’ Presley said, stepping past him and pulling back the blankets.
Of course she did. What better way to keep her safe?
After settling her, Presley heated some food up for him. Astin could tell Lyndal had prepared it. He had eaten enough of her food over the past year to recognise her cooking.
Making himself comfortable in front of the fire, he assured his sister he would be fine on the floor. He lay awake listening to her cry in the next room, but that was not the only reason he struggled to sleep. The house was filled with memories he could not sleep through. Some bad, others pure magic.
Giving up on sleep, Astin wandered outside, surprised to find stars. Change was coming. He could feel it. Exhaling long and deep, he sank down onto the chair on the veranda, knowing without a doubt that Lyndal was watching the sky with him.
Finally, he slept.
The following morning Astin hitched the wagon and placed his mother’s body in the back. When Presley hesitated to climb in, he asked her what was wrong.
‘I think we should bury her here.’
Nodding, Astin removed her from the wagon.
They found a place on high ground, a spot that would get a lot of sun when it finally returned. All three of them dug the grave, with Astin doing the bulk of the work. When they were finished, they stood in silence for a long time before Rose finally said, ‘I’m glad he’s not going to hurt her anymore.’
Presley looked away.
‘You heard from Chadwick?’ Astin asked as they wandered back towards the house. ‘I thought he would be here.’
