No one moved; no one
T'fyrr held the man for a moment longer, then flexed the muscles of his arms_
And gently set Lord Atrovel down, right into the 'welcoming' arms of the Elite Bodyguards.
'I believe that this is the man you have been looking for,' T'fyrr said, so gently that he might have been soothing a child. 'He frequented Freehold under the name and disguise of 'Violetta,' and likely other places as well. I believe he owns a house in the Firemare quarter, where you will find two or three mages in his employ who held me captive and maimed me_one of them probably set the spell that nearly slew His Majesty. Hunt through his private papers, his suite, and question his servants, and you will probably find a trail of sabotage and evil as vile as the man himself. And you will likely find lace handkerchiefs that match those left by the mysterious gaol-raider. As well as a_' he coughed '_remarkable selection of female garments made in his size, which should explain the missing 'maid' who freed that first captive.'
The Captain took custody of Lord Atrovel himself and fired off a burst of orders as the rest of the Lord Advisors scattered like so many frightened quail. T'fyrr ignored them all, turning back to Nightingale.
The terrible rage inside him was gone.
She went weak-kneed with relief as she saw his face, and sensed the calm that now lay within him.
'I don't need revenge,' he said softly, echoing her own thoughts, taking her hands in his. 'I have you, and I have love. Vengeance is a waste of valuable time.'
She smiled up at him tremulously. 'It is, isn't it?'
He touched her cheek with one gentle talon. 'I know that you don't like cities,' he said wistfully, 'but_could you consider making your home in one?'
'A home is where the people you care for are,' she told him, impossible joy beginning to bubble up inside her. 'And if the people I care for live in a city_or the High King's Palace_then that is where my home will be. I think I will survive living in this one.'
He laughed, then, and gathered her to him for a long embrace. Together, they turned and walked back to the side of High King Theovere, who watched them with a truer smile than any he had worn in Nightingale's memory.
Theovere clasped the hand of the Captain of the Elite Bodyguards, and the stalwart soldier smiled as broadly as his King, with the glint of a tear in one eye.
'Welcome back, my King,' was all he said, and then he turned to face T'fyrr and Nightingale. He nodded, still smiling. And as he walked away to tend to his duties, Nightingale heard with some surprise that he was whistling a Gypsy melody, of how all was right with the world.
