“You know, I would justhatethat.”
Will’s mouth drops open. A beat passes where he simply gapes at me, at my words, before he tugs up that sarcastic smirk and leans closer.
“Hmm. I’m sure we can agree onsomekind of compromise.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Lark says with a dash of reluctance. He stands a few steps away and greets us with his fist over his heart in a traditional guard salute.
Storms instantly summon to Will’s eyes.
“I thought you both should know,” Lark says. “Morgana is awake, and it seems she’s lost her ability to use magic. The physicians agree it’s a side effect of the spell being misused. She won’t be able to cause any more harm. That’s…That’s all.”
“Huh. Interesting,” Will says. He angles his head, and I adore watching the fall of a stray wavy lock over his forehead. “Guess that dark magic book had more secrets than it told.”
“Just like it didn’t mention sharing the price of a life,” I add.
Lark’s green eyes rest on me. We’ve said everything we need to say to each other. The bridge of us fell into a fast-flowing river and washed the pain away.
“Then…I’ll see you around, Fliss.”
I nod, and Lark takes his leave. He refuses a drink from a passing servant and heads toward Pigeon, who has a face full of food at one of the tables. I don’t see the weight of arrogance in him anymore. He’s a sober stoic shield of a guard, with the ghost of Howell by his side. The thought reminds me of an idea I’d had.
“There’s something I want to do,” I say, and tug Will over towhere Godfrey is sitting with Nettle and Ava, a wine-flushed glow on their faces.
“Back to knock us out again?” Nettle asks, an arm slung over the back of Ava’s chair.
“If that’s what you’re into,” Will says.
Ava downs her drink and shakes her head. “I think I’ve aged ten years tonight. I’ll be retiring from captaincy if you two decide to get up to any more mischief.”
“We’ve got no current plans.”
“Good. Because Prince Bastion tells me he’s ordered a full pardon for you. I’d better not see you scrapping in the streets from now on.”
“Depends how annoying he is.”
Nettle’s hackles rise.
“Gods, do you ever shut up?” she snaps, then throws a hand at me. “First Lark, now this idiot. You have absolutely terrible taste, Felicity.”
“Yeah, he’s the worst,” I casually let slip, and shine a smile at Will. There’s a sparkle of a moment between us again where he notices what I’m doing, what I’msaying,and before his flush can redden too deeply, he clears his throat and turns to Godfrey.
“How’s your leg, old man?”
“Old man?” Godfrey chuckles, laugh lines deep. “I’m doing just fine, boy, don’t you worry.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, Willoh. I heard the truth of it.”
“Still…”
“If possible,” I say, “I’d like to be in charge of Howell’s memorial flowers. It would mean a lot to take on that responsibility. I owe him my life.”
Godfrey and Ava smile, two captains of two ages, two people Howell entrusted Alrick to.
“That’s a lovely idea, Felicity,” Godfrey says, and creativity stirs in the back of my mind. Flowers as grand as the man himself, colors and scents and expertly arranged bunches to represent Howell’s lifetimeof service. Just like with Simon, the lower square will be a flurry of petals once more. I’ll see to it. We say our goodbyes and wander next to Mum and Ruth, who are sharing a plate of cake in the corner of the hall.
“Have you tried this yet?” Mum asks, tipping her head in greeting. “It’s delicious.”
