As he walked away, a sudden urge came upon me.
“I must do something,” I said. “Go seek your friend and when you return, I will be here.”
“If you must go, be careful. I will come back shortly.”
“Careful and quick as the wind,” I answered.
“I will watch him with my own blind eyes, no greater watch could be summoned!” Sylvain teased. His mood had lightened ever since we’d announced our leaving.
“I will worry less,” Seton answered, bowed, then walked away.
I watched him only a moment before I took my own cleansing breath of sea air and began to walk to the streets.
“What are you thinking?” Sylvain asked as he walked beside me.
“Father and Mother,” I replied and reached a hand up to Durant, who slumbered across Sylvain’s shoulders, and stroked the creature’s soft ears.
Sylvain made no reply, but walked with me in companionable and alert silence.
As we reentered the heavy air of the town, we both made short gasping sounds as though our lungs had forgotten the smells and smoke of where we’d lived for so long.
As we drew closer to the large, weathered metal gates of the cemetery, my heart grew heavy. “How can we leave so easily?”
“Is it easily?” Sylvain answered. “Though I am leaving something, one day I will return. Father and Mother beckon not from their graves, but from the sea. They would wish us to go and hope we return. Leaving something so loved is many things, though I think easy is not one of them.” He knelt and lifted Durant from his shoulders. The fox grew alert and soon scampered off into some nearby bushes to relieve itself.
Sylvain’s words haunted me as I reached into the pocket of my breeches and took from it a length of fabric. I held it up, admired it, and smiled as it shimmered. Reminded not only of when I first encountered its magnificence, but also of my father’s death, the contentment I’d found with Seton, and even the debauchery and brotherhood I’d known among Duir and the men of his Privy Council.
Were we brothers? I thought of Auberon and wished him the good fortune of a happy marriage and children. It was fortunate Auberon avoided the disease growing among the populace. I wished Briar a quick return to health and the joust.
Were we enemies? Cale, dark and brooding, a monster of indescribable and unspeakable cruelty loomed like a shadow next to a tomb, but he would fade as the sun grew brighter and distance came between us. We were never brothers! Never would I experience anything but sad, hateful shame where he was concerned.
“There will be a festival in town today celebrating Duir’s coronation. They will rejoice in his reign. I can hear the preparations already at hand, smell the bread baking and the sound of the butcher’s knife,” Sylvain called from the gates.
Were we family? I thought of Duir not as a king but as a child next to me, bright as the edge of a knife, a royal glow about him. I wished him harm many times recently, but now, as I stood and lived not only by his grace but by my own resilience in having cultivated a bond between us, I did not wish him harm. I hoped he would live and continue his reign past the sickness around him.
I held the length of fabric in my fingers a moment longer and was about to drop it to the ground when instead I thought better of it and in one motion, tied it around my neck, then joined my brother.
“Come, Sylvain, let us say goodbye to our parents, if only for a little while. I believe you when you say we shall come back.”
“For once you believe me. Is this becoming a fortunate habit?” Sylvain answered, jokingly. “I now must truly know of what I say if you will now be truly listening!”
“Father would be proud of you, my brother. Of me, he would wish me wiser and I lament all the times I didn’t heed your wisdom.” I put my arm around his shoulder as he drew close.
Our parents’ grave markers were close by the gates, and a tree with low hanging boughs with golden yellow flowers reached from the other side and nearly touched the spot where our mother lie. Seeing this, I was reminded of her love of flowers, plants, and trees. She would have been appreciative of its beauty, so close to her final place of rest.
“Mother and Father would have been proud of you and more, Virago,” Sylvain said as he knelt, and finding the edge of our father’s grave, stroked the face of it as if he could sense the dead man’s words.
“It is my hope they not think me a fool or a deviant.” I felt a lump rise in my throat. “Or worse, a coward.” I added before I had to turn away.
“Choosing to live and not know the bite of the executioner’s axe is not cowardly, but incredibly brave and wise. I think you’ve always been wise and kept Duir close enough in that we are able to walk away at all!” He lifted himself from where he knelt and walked to the gates.
I swallowed the tears burning in my eyes and felt the pull of the velvet along my throat. The sun had brightened the world, and from above, I heard the wheeling cries of the gulls, the sea, the boat, and the man who would be there to greet me at its plank.
How could I have not made him a cloak lined with velvet? How could I have not wanted to give him something worthy of his own royal glow to match the burn he’d enticed from my once caged heart?
I brushed my hand across my face, placed a hand on each of my parents’ graves, and prayed silently for the strength of my father and the love of the world my mother had until she died.
From behind, I heard
