As the last candidate disappeared into the barracks, Inara turned on the spot and looked up at Vighon and Sir Ruban. “What do you think?”
“I think you are beyond reckless,” the king replied, making his way down the steps to join her.
“You doubt my skill, husband?” Inara challenged with a coy smile.
“I would never be so bold,” Vighon assured. “But it is not just you who could be hurt,” he said softly, his hand pressing against his wife’s stomach.
“There is no safer place for them,” Inara promised, clasping her fingers with his.
“There are safer places for you,” Vighon felt he needed to point out. “Places where our unborn child isn’t at risk of Daganar’s careless swing.”
“I was never at risk,” Inara said, before planting a light kiss on the northman’s cheek. “You must let me do this without your constant fretting. What I’m doing here is important. It’s part of his legacy.”
Vighon nodded with a sombre expression. He knew well that Athis was rooted in the Guardians of the Realm. After all, it was the dragon’s own words that echoed in their creed.
“I trust you,” he uttered, returning her kiss with one of his own. “But you can’t blame a husband for worrying when his wife faces twenty of the best warriors in the whole country.”
Inara laughed and squeezed his hand as she stepped away, her gaze catching Sir Ruban on his way down the steps. “You haven’t told him yet?” she quietly enquired of the king.
“I wanted to do it together,” Vighon replied.
Inara flashed him an appreciative smile. “It should come from you though. You mean an awful lot to him.”
“I know.” The northman turned to regard his approaching captain. “Sir Ruban, since the queen is still in one piece, we will continue with our travel plans. Are we set for The Shining Coast tomorrow?”
“Of course, your Grace. I’ve already coordinated with the master of servants; we can leave at first light.”
The king nodded along, already aware of the schedule. “Excellent, though I’m afraid we will have to adjust some of our plans for the return journey.”
Sir Ruban’s face creased in confusion, bringing some of his scars together. “Your Grace?”
Vighon glanced at Inara. “After we’ve said our farewells to the queen’s parents, we’re going to stop in Velia.”
“Velia is most splendid in the spring,” the captain opined, oblivious to what was coming. “Queen Gwenyfer will love it.”
“We won’t be staying long,” the king continued. “Just long enough to inform Lord Gydon that his stewardship of Alborn is at an end.”
Sir Ruban offered an approving grin. “Most wise, your Graces. Who will be replacing him?”
It was Vighon’s turn to give an approving grin. “That would be Lord Ruban, of house Dardaris.”
The captain was already agreeing with a nodding smile before his own name caught up with him. “I… beg your pardon… your Grace?”
The king laughed. “It’s you, Ruban! You have more than earned it.”
“I’m to be the lord of… Velia?”
“Yes” Vighon cheered. “You’re going to have to appoint your successor, of course.”
“Your Grace… I don’t know how to be a—”
Vighon reached out and gripped him by the arms. “Ruban. When I met you, all those years ago, you were barely a man, yet you had already found your way from living on the streets to a captain’s squire. You followed me into peril and faced things most men would run from. As the captain of my king’s guard, you rose into the role of general and kept The Rebellion alive.”
“It would have died five times over without you,” Inara added.
“You were the backbone of the entire campaign,” Vighon continued. “Alborn is the richest region in the entire kingdom. I have no greater reward to give you. Though I warn you the title of lord comes with more burdens than that of captain. You may not thank us for it.”
“I would thank you right now!” The captain embraced the king before sharing the same moment with the queen. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes,” Inara replied, “and tomorrow you ride out to a new life.”
Sir Ruban stood up a little straighter. “It would be my honour.”
“No,” Vighon corrected. “The honour has been mine, old friend.”
64
A New World
The sea air blasted Reyna’s golden hair out and snatched at her pale cloak. The lapping waves of The Adean and the distant calls of her kin filled her ears, though it wasn’t enough to conceal the playful giggles of a small girl. Reyna leapt over the top of the grassy sand dune and pounced on Gwenyfer. The girl squealed in surprise before tickling fingers made her howl with laughter.
“Gwenyfer!” Inara yelled from the beach.
Reyna poked her head over the dune. “She’s with me!” the elven queen reassured.
“There you are,” Inara said with a knowing smile. “Gwenyfer is not the only queen to have disappeared on this beach. Father is looking for you.”
Reyna narrowed her eyes, searching down the line of boats that rested in the surf. Despite the hundreds of elves carrying the last of their supplies, Nathaniel was easily found by the one who had loved him for nearly fifty years. Her husband was clearly scanning the white cliffs that rose up beyond the beach.
Gwenyfer burst from the grasses and rolled down the sand dune, laughing all the way. Her joy only increased when Inara scooped her up at the bottom and held her high, a broad grin welcoming the girl.
“Go and find Galanör,” Inara coaxed, putting her down again.
Gwenyfer’s understanding of their language still had a long way to progress, but she certainly understood the name Galanör. She repeated it again and again as she ran off down the beach.
“She’s adorable,” Reyna observed, making her way down to join her daughter. “How are you not going to
