They shared a long look, and Klyde nodded. The mercenary leaned forward on his knees, and Von glimpsed the Skelling sigil on his shoulder pauldron. Dyna mentioned to him the mercenary had a Skelling talon. A last resort if Tarn succeeded in becoming immortal. Von prayed it didn’t come to that.
“Tarn can’t enter Greenwood,” Keena said as she fluttered above them. “Tavin is safe for the time being if you want to stay a little longer.”
The king had given Rawn permission to remain in Sellav until the end of the season, and the rest decided they would stay as well. To heal and to give him time with his family.
A pensive expression crossed Klyde’s face as he glanced at the estate again. It was the sorceress he thought of. Von had noticed their lingering looks braided between each moment they were together.
“I think you should go,” Von said, because he felt Tavin’s safety should come first. “Though it would be a lie to say I won’t miss the lad. He’s quite the pest.”
They chuckled. Over the days, he had grown fond of the boy who always seemed to follow him around with his endless questions and curiosity. At first it was too hard to be around Tavin. He had his father’s eyes and features, but that was where the likeness ended.
“He’s exactly like her,” Von murmured. The moon reflected off the surface of ale in his mug, and he looked up at the night sky. “To know that a piece of Aisling lives on is a gift. Thank you …” His voice wavered, and he met Klyde’s gaze. “For doing what I couldn’t.”
“I … never did thank you for saving his life.”
“Don’t.” Von fixed wet eyes on the fire, hearing distant screams. “Saving him doesn't repay all the lives lost because of me.”
He knew many last words, but he would never know Yavi’s. She haunted him in the ocean wind and in the flare of flame. Dalton and Geon, they haunted him in Tavin’s laughter, in the shine of his youth.
I stole many lives, it gave no value to mine,” Von told them. “When I try to imagine my future, I see none. Somehow, I think you understand me, or I am merely a rambling drunk fool.”
Keena flew down to land on Zev’s shoulder. Klyde fell still as they looked at him. They didn’t answer, but their expressions said they understood.
Von rubbed the tightness in his chest, feeling weightless without his bandoliers. He had spent many years carrying the weight of his knives and the blood they spilled. “At the end of this journey, I don’t know what comes next. I don’t think anything does. But if the lass finds her medallion, and I end Tarn like I plan, I will have fulfilled my part in this prophecy. What comes after? What else is there?” He smiled sardonically, and Keena gave his cheek a little pat of comfort. To Zev, he said, “You asked me why I am here. I came because I plan to die, be it with Tarn on that island if it comes to it.” He finished his drink and set it down as hestood. “If I survive, that will be the end of my purpose, and likely my life. I have no use for it.”
“Don’t say that,” Keena said sadly when he made for the path. Her yellow wings drooped. “You may think you don’t have anything left, Von. But we are still here.”
He paused for a moment, taking in the Guardians who fought to be there for each other. They were a strong circle of friends.
And maybe … his friends too.
Von continued walking down the gravel path lit by lanterns. His chest clenched at the sight of them because it reminded him too much of his last night on that ship. He thought of that night many times and what he could have done differently to save Yavi and Geon. But he had made too many mistakes. Starting with going into Tarn’s quarters.
His mind flashed with a memory of the golden Xián Jing chest and teapot that had rested within.
Von rushed inside the estate to find Dyna. His search ended in the library where he spotted her sitting at a table buried by a pile of books. Her belongings were scattered around her, along with the bronze key and the pearlescent water mirror. The candles flickering on the stands shone over her short red hair.
Glowing lanterns hung from the ceiling, illuminating the walls full of books and greenery in the alcoves. The open glass doors allowed for fresh air and the sweet scents of the garden.
Von walked past the tree that grew in the center of the library and approached Dyna’s table. “Up for late reading, lass?”
“Oh, good evening, Commander.” She sighed tiredly and shook her head at the tome open in front of her. “Nothing here can help me wake Cassiel. I have tried mugwort, clematis, and bach flowers. Nothing works. I am a Herb Master. I studied everything there is to know but this. So why can’t I…”
Von sat in the empty leather chair across from her. “You’re worried he will never wake?”
“I have to hold faith he will.” Dyna sighed again and rubbed her eyes. “Sorry, you came here to tell me something, not to hear me ramble. What’s on your mind?”
“Tarn.”
Closing the book, Dyna straightened in her seat.
“When I was planning our escape, I had discovered something among his belongings. A Xián Jing teapot containing ashes. I had forgotten about it until now.”
Her brow furrowed. “Ashes?”
Von’s knee bounced as he wrung his hands. “I knew Tarn was the bastard son of the Azure King. That made him the only heir to the throne. I assumed that was the reason the crown wanted him dead. Tarn seeks immortality to keep himself alive, but it never occurred to me the reason King Lenneus hunted Tarn was because he had inherited Jökull’s power. Now I believe those are the ashes of the Ice Phoenix. Tarn wants to bring Aisling back to life.”
Dyna’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
