Page 138 of The Arrow and the Alder

Probably a lifetime.

What they’d endured and what they had seen kept them awake most every night.

Sometimes she caught Alder’s gaze from across the field, and they’d exchange a smile, but there wasn’t time for more, and, oh, how Seph could not wait for that time. Because in those rare moments where she sat down to rest, the unknown future attacked her relentlessly.

The fact of the matter was that the Court of Light was no more, that much had become evident within the first day. There was no longer any power in this kingdom. Not to say there wasn’t any connection toeloit—there was, clearly. Alder’s shameless (and growing) garden was proof of that, but what power Light had been given had gone back to the heavens, where it belonged.

Which set the other three courts back in balance.

Seph should have been relieved. There was no need for a queen if the kingdom no longer existed, so by all accounts, she should be able to return safely home, to her family, without any guilt that she’d abandoned people who were depending upon her for guidance.

However.

She was kith now. She didn’t know what that looked like; she hadn’t been able to do much with hereloit,other than create her own little enchanted, floating lights. Rian informed her that her understanding would grow with time, but Seph wasn’t really concerned about using enchantments; she’d lived all her life without them.

No, her largest concern was Alder.

One day, my little lion, you will meet someone you cannot live without, and then you’ll discover that you will sacrifice everything.

Oddly, sacrificing her life had been the easy part. It was theliving withoutbit Seph did not know if she could handle. At least Alder was alive. She’d thought that would be enough, but now she wasn’t so certain.

It was with these thoughts she wrestled as she sat upon the steps. The night was full and covered in stars, and something like a toad croaked nearby. One could never be sure; the creatures in Canna were very different from those in Harran, and each day, a few more crossed their paths. It still took some getting used to, all the sounds of life in this world. Where it had been silent before, now there was always a song.

A hand touched her back, and she looked up to see Alder standing there. She couldn’t see his face; it was too dark, and he was illuminated softly by the golden glow of the lights floating in the archway behind him.

He sat down beside her, close enough that their sides touched, and he leaned back upon his hands and tipped his face to the stars. He wasn’t wearing Rys’s ring anymore; he’d lost it when he’d changed form. They’d tried looking for it, but it was impossible to find anything so small by a gate now buried in foliage.

“Fates, they’re so beautiful,” Alder said, eyes glinting in the dark. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing them again.”

“Do you think she’s up there, with them?” Seph asked after a moment.

“I’m certain of it.”

Then, “I wonder which one she is.”

“I think…” Alder pointed, his shoulder pressed in to hers. “Do you see the bright one there flickering, right above the cluster?”

Seph leaned into him, following the trajectory of his finger with her gaze. “I do.”

“I imagine she would be one like that. Bold. Brighter than all the rest, just like her great-granddaughter.”

Seph smiled at this. “Do you think she knows we’ve won?”

“I think she’s looking down on us now, very pleased with the story the Fates wove for her.” She felt him turn his face toward her, though she didn’t look. “But you don’t sound very much like someone who is enjoying their victory.” Then, “War is a sobering affair.”

“It is,” Seph replied. “Though it seems to have mended something between you and Serinbor.”

Serinbor had been a steady presence around them, and Seph had often caught him with Alder, sharing a camaraderie that Alder did not share with anyone else.

Alder’s expression turned thoughtful, and a small smile touched his lips. “It has.” Then, “What did you say to him?”

“Nothing he didn’t already know.” Seph tossed a pebble at the foliage. “Essentially, I told him that he was an unforgiving hypocrite, that he had no idea how you’d suffered for a past you couldn’t change, and that he should give you a chance.”

Alder sat quiet. “Thank you, Josephine.” His voice cracked a little.

“Maybe one day, you can tell me what happened between the two of you…?”

He glanced sideways at her. “Maybe one day I will.” Sadness touched his features, and he looked to the stars again.

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