She would see to the rest, to the best of her ability. See the clans prepared and ready for what was to come.
But his burden was all the more dear, and he nodded his head, his eyes soft as he placed a kiss to her temple. “I always have,” he reminded her, and she nodded.
Forearms were clasped with Grimult, beseechings that he keep Penryn safe and that they learn more of him upon their return, and he smiled and gave his own reassurances.
And then it was time.
Worley and Terik looking on with envy.
And she finally glanced into the sky.
To see a host of men awaiting them.
She gaped at the number.
“I told you we would provide your escort,” Harlow answered her unasked query.
“So you did,” she got out, unable to imagine how the sages might react at such a gathering before their gates.
No scenario ended well, and her worry for a clan that was so newly hers grew all the more.
Even as her affection for it did as well.
“I told them we would meet at the beach and you could give me that warning you’re about to pass on to the sages.” Something in his manner suggested that he was repressing the urge to spit upon the ground, and Penryn wondered at such a visceral reaction.
“Can you manage her?” Harlow asked, his voice dropping low as if not to give any great offence at the enquiry. Penryn prickled slightly for Grimult’s capability to be questioned, but her husband bore it with more grace, merely nodding his head and offering her a slight bow. It was an odd gesture, one that might have been given in their earliest days together, and it felt awkward and unnatural to receive it now.
She swallowed, stepping nearer, allowing him to pick her up as chastely as could be managed given their pretence.
Rezen held his wife close, and she could already see her mother’s eyes wet with tears. “I choose to go this time,” she reminded her, hopefully a comfort. “Just like I will choose to come back.”
A fierce nod, her gaze insisting that if that promise was not kept, Amarys would personally hunt her down.
And rather than indulge in the lump in her throat with another bout of tears, Penryn turned her head into Grimult’s shoulder and suddenly they were airborne.
She had not expected the ache in her heart, the absolute certainty that she had left a piece of herself behind in a home nestled in a sheer cliff of rock.
But there was a sweetness in it as well, to know that her actions were for a purpose far more personal than she had ever dared imagine before.
“How much shall you tell them?” Grimult asked, his lips at her ear. They were nearing the beach already, some descending to stand about. There was a rugged quality to this clan, as if the sea air had become a part of them, their hair often in thick waves rather than the shiny, carefully kempt styles of those she had managed to see before.
They were an imposing welcome, and she almost asked Grimult to slow his descent so she might think more carefully of what she would say, but she did not wish to appear hesitant. “As much as is needed.” But to do what, she could not say.
This clan was perhaps the most protected of them all, their homes inaccessible by those without wings, unless long ropes were used and descended from above.
But their safety should not make them complacent, and the thought of danger coming here was intolerable.
For all that Worley and Terik seemed fascinated by the prospect of weaponry and learning to fight, that surely would dim when faced with the reality of a horde intent on true destruction.
Grimult’s touch did not linger when they landed on the beach, and he took a full step backward from her, positioned slightly behind. It was the distance they were meant to have kept throughout the Journey, a sign of respect and formality that she was grateful he had been willing to forsake. There was little reason for it now, not when the clan already knew who she was. That she was born to Rezen and Amarys, that she was as mortal as anyone else.
Grimult could have spoken to them. Could have explained.
Except...
Perhaps it was not the Lightkeep he was encouraging forward.
It was one of their own, a member of their clan with words of warning.
And that settled her somewhat, even as foreign as the concept still was to her.
Harlow landed close by, giving her an encouraging nod. Was she to address all of them, or merely him? She was not prepared for speech-making, although she supposed she should have considered the prospect more carefully.
Her heart pounded, her palms itched, and she wished...
And suddenly, Rezen was there at the beach as well, and something in her relaxed even as she fought down the urge for tears. They had not discussed him acting as an escort, was certain that he would need to remain with Amarys and see to her comfort, but he...
He chose her.
She bit her lip, and he came toward her, squeezing her shoulder. “My daughter,” he introduced. “Penryn.”
The whole company gave a whoop that startled her terribly, long calls coming from their throats that were strangely melodic as they went out to the open seas, other voices echoing back the exultation even if they did not know the cause.
She staggered backward, overwhelmed, and she bumped into Grimult who caught her arms to ensure she stayed upright. “A clan knows its own,” he murmured into her ear. “And you are a Mihr, despite all else.”
Penryn could not suppress a shiver that went through her, and she found herself wondering at what his own homecoming would be like, when a missing element was returned to them. His time away might have been shorter, but she could well imagine that he was dearly loved by all, and his absence was acute. She wiped at her eyes, uncertain if
