We’ve parked the motorcycle when a female voice shouts out, “Oh my God, Burgundy!”
It’s Lilah. I recognize her as she hurries across the courtyard as fast as her heavily pregnant condition allows.
Burgundy is all smiles as she closes the distance between them and hugs the other woman.
They’re good friends.
Better than any friend I’ve ever had.
For just a moment, I’m almost jealous, and I don’t even know why.
When they pull apart, Lilah turns to me. Before I can say a word, she hugs me too. “Thank goodness you’re all right. Micah has been beside himself.”
“He’s okay?” I ask as we separate.
“Yes. He got here a few hours ago, ready to storm a castle to rescue you. But he didn’t know where the castle was, so that made it difficult.”
“I know. I messed up.”
“Well, since you showed up with Burgundy alive and well, I don’t think you could have messed up too badly.” Lilah gives Burgundy another one-arm hug and gestures toward the front doors of the main building. “Come on. We’ve got to put poor Micah out of his misery.”
Lilah leads us into the main entrance, but our progress is slowed because nearly everyone we run into stops to greet Burgundy with relief and joy.
She’s obviously known and loved by everyone, and no one expected her reappearance like this, completely without warning.
She answers the repeated questions by saying she’ll tell the full story later. She needs to see Micah first.
We walk a long hallway until we reach a huge room that must have formerly been a large open office suite. Now it’s some kind of council room. There are people scattered throughout the space, but my eyes focus unerringly on the large table in the middle.
At the head of the table is Logan. I’ve only seen him a few times before from a distance, but he’s unmistakable. Not huge or physically impressive but with an innate power that seems to exude from his pores. His age is hard to determine. Somewhere between forty and fifty-five, I’m guessing. His long hair is graying and pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He has pleasant features and coldly clever blue eyes.
I look at him first, but my gaze doesn’t linger. I search the other faces at the table until I find Micah. He’s sitting near Logan and has clearly been talking to him. His expression is tense and openly anxious.
When Logan’s eyes move to the door, Micah’s follow them. Because I’m watching, I see the tension on his face break—break—when he sees me.
He says something I can’t hear as he stands up so urgently that his chair wobbles unsteadily.
He says something else as he approaches. This time I can read his lips.
Kat.
A sound behind me alerts me to the fact that I’m not the most important person here. I step out the way so Micah can see Burgundy.
It’s then that the broken tension on his face shatters.
With a little sob, Burgundy runs over and throws herself into her brother’s arms.
My throat is aching again as I watch them, as I see the desperate urgency in Micah’s arms as he holds her, as I see that he’s shaking.
Maybe I’m not a warm or a soft person. Maybe I’ve done a lot of things wrong. Maybe I turned into a grumpy, antisocial recluse who doesn’t like anyone except her dog.
Maybe I messed things up with Micah. I know I did.
But at least in my life I’ve managed to do one thing right.
I’ve donethis.
They hug for a long time. Burgundy is crying and Micah is close to it when they finally pull apart.
