Lisandro nodded his head against her chest, his tears probably staining her gown, but she didn’t care. She guided him to his feet and got to hers, offering her hand for him to take if he so wanted. She would never force affection or help onto him and had adamantly ordered the same for all who cared for Lisandro. She’d let him keep his boundaries as his road guided him through this transition.
Lisandro sniffed loudly and scrubbed at his nose with his sleeve. He eyed her hand for a long moment before reaching for it, his small fingers curling against her palm. Caris smiled gently at him, putting as much warmth into it as she could before leading him out of the nursery.
They ate cinnamon cakes brought up by a servant with a pot of flowering tea favored by Daijalans. It seemed to soothe Lisandro, and by the time they made it to the gardens at the rear of the palace, the redness from his fit had finally left his cheeks.
Caris let him wander ahead, exploring as young children liked to do. None of the plants were blooming, and many of the trees were bare, but there was still beauty to be found amongst the garden paths. She’d spent many a day out there, walking to clear her mind, and sharing that bit of peace with Lisandro was the least she could do.
Soren found them in one of the far groves with a pond that had giant, brightly colored goldfish swimming in its waters. Lisandro didn’t notice his arrival, too busy poking at the fish that came to the surface and seeing if they would eat the lilies floating in the water.
Soren took a seat on the bench beside Caris, stretching out his legs. He still wore the uniform and carried the weapons of a warden, despite no longer being officially counted amongst their ranks. He’d never caved to Meleri’s or others’ demands in that regard. Soren had always known who and what he was, refusing to alter his road for a country he insisted was not his.
Caris knew eventually Soren would give up being a warden, if only to preserve them. When the time came for him to walk away forever, he wouldn’t be staying in Ashion, and she would never begrudge him the life he so keenly wanted in Solaria.
“How is Lisandro faring?” Soren asked.
“He misses his mother the same way I do mine,” Caris said. She picked at the skirt of her gown, keeping her attention on Lisandro, for she knew if she looked at Soren, she would cry. “Thank you, again, for doing what I couldn’t, for sending their ashes to dance amongst the stars.”
“You needn’t thank me for doing my duty.”
Her parents’ names had gone up on the official memory wall reserved for those in the royal genealogies at the main star temple in Amari, alongside Nathaniel’s. So many names were being etched into memory walls in towns and cities across the country. Many of the remembered dead had been burned in mass pyres, while still many more walked the poison fields as revenants.
Caris folded her hands together over her lap. “I’m thinking of having a private memory wall built in the garden out here for Lisandro and I.”
“You want to put Eimarille’s name on it?”
“I want Lisandro to have a private place to reflect without others judging him for loving the woman who was his mother.”
“And you?”
“I’ll put the names of my parents on it and Nathaniel’s.”
It would hurt to always be reminded of Eimarille and what she’d done, but Caris wouldn’t blame the woman who could have been her sister in front of Lisandro—not while he was young and incapable of understanding. There would be time for explanations when he grew older.
Caris lifted a hand to touch her necklace with careful fingers. The gold chain held the sigil ring Nathaniel had given her as his promise to love her always and a shard of clarion crystal that would never find its other half on a map again.
They’d held a private funeral service for Nathaniel two days after he died, just herself, Blaine, Honovi, Soren, Lore, and Meleri present in the star temple. She’d cried and cried during it, aching from the loss of no longer having him by her side to walk her road together.
“Nathaniel and I, we were a war story. It was never going to end with anything but this grief. I know that now,” Caris said thickly.
“Don’t mourn forever. Find some joy in what’s left. The war is over now, and we need to stop and look at what was left behind,” Soren said.
“I miss him. I think I always will.” She tipped her head back, staring at the sky. “I haven’t learned to give up the things he left me.”
Nathaniel had been her first and only love, and the thought of cracking open her heart again for another left her wanting to weep. Perhaps, one day, she’d learn to love again, but it wouldn’t be anytime soon. Until then, Caris would carry the pieces of Nathaniel’s memory with her and build a world for the both of them around the space he’d left behind.
“One day, you will, and he’ll always shine down on you from the stars.”
It was bitter comfort, there in a garden surrounded by the only ones left of the Rourke bloodline, the three of them barely family. But Caris had always been good at building things, and she thought, catching Lisandro’s eye when the boy looked back at her, smiling gently at him, that perhaps they could build it together.
Three
SOREN
The first month of winter and last month of the year saw the official coronation of Caris and her designation of Lisandro as her heir, permanently removing Soren from the line of succession. It meant his last border duty as a warden that Delani had given him was finished. The Warden’s Island would not take him in as a warden, his ability to cast starfire and his no longer hidden ties to the Rourke bloodline proof he could never be neutral by their laws. Delani had made that clear in the few telephone calls they’d had in the weeks following Daijal’s surrender. It was a repudiation, but it hurt less than Soren ever thought it could.
“Does Caris know you’re leaving?”
Soren craned his head around and watched Blaine approach him on the mezzanine overlooking the grand ballroom below. The dance floor was crowded beneath the massive crystal chandeliers, the nobility dressed in their finest, military officers from Ashion, Solaria, and E’ridia in pristinely pressed uniforms, diplomats from those same countries, and a scattering of wardens who all looked drably out of place.
