4Author's Note: And so ends my longest contribution to the Settlers fan fiction database – and my last for the foreseeable future, as the focus of my writing is going to be shifting to college work for now. :) Long Live has been enormous fun to write (though sometimes frustrating!), and I'm thrilled that the story I've had in my head for the past year and a half is finally complete. Thanks for being along for the ride – I look forward to seeing what the rest of you have up your sleeves!
Special thanks to: BlairBrown, for putting up with me ranting on about this fic for months on end; heatherek, for inspiring some very cute scenes; and Rockerduck, for being a fabulous editor, and for teaching me more about writing a decent story than my English teachers ever did. :D
"Well, Temel," Kestral said conversationally, shifting her grip on her new nephew. "What's your opinion on all this, then? Want me as an aunty?"
The small boy responded by snuggling against her neck. "Kehtoll."
"I'll take that as a yes. Can you say 'Aunty Kestral'?"
"Kehtoll."
"That'll do for now." She rubbed his back, grinning as she looked around Vestholm's marketplace. The sun was nearing the horizon, spraying gold and purple beams on the white clouds above; the rest of the setting was no less colourful. The people of Vestholm had been decorating enthusiastically for the past couple of weeks, and the result was absolutely splendid. She did notice that a few of Hidun's banners had been discreetly removed in the last two hours, though.
She heard Hakim speak, and turned around instinctively – then chuckled. Her husband (she loved using that word) was bent on one knee about ten yards away, engaged in a very serious conversation with Temel's elder sister. They were too far away for her to catch the words; not that she would have understood them anyway. Hmm, that was a thought – she'd have to learn Janubian, and fast. Oh well. Small price to pay.
As she watched, Aminah stepped forward and kissed her uncle on the cheek. He returned the compliment, and she gave him an impish smile and made a beeline for Crimmy on the other side of the marketplace.
"She's a little aggrieved, I think." Farihah stepped up to Kestral's side, nodding towards Wisey and Aminah.
"Why?" Kestral asked, amused. "Doesn't she like me?"
"Oh, she doesn't dislike you." Farihah giggled. "But she likes Maria better."
Kestral gaped. The very idea of Crimmy and Wise Boy – nah, she couldn't even bring herself to think about it. "Eww. Just no."
"My husband would second your sentiment, I think."
"He doesn't like Crims?"
"He is a little frightened of her, I think." Farihah smiled ruefully, then reached out and patted her son's back. "And while I consider her a friend, I do not think she and Ammar would be suitable for one another."
"No way. Ever." Kestral grinned, shifting a yawning Temel to her other shoulder. "Do I pass muster?"
Farihah assumed a solemn expression, stepped back, and looked Kestral up and down with a critical eye. "I think you'll do." She laughed suddenly, her face lighting up, and Kestral was struck with how similar her smile was to Hakim's. "I must admit that I did not predict this, though – I knew Ammar cherished no romantic feelings for Princess Saraya, but I didn't realise that it was you whom he loved!"
"Really? I thought he hid it appallingly."
"Perhaps I do not know my brother as well as I once did." Farihah gently took Temel from Kestral and settled him against her own shoulder. "I hope to remedy that – and to learn to know my new sister, also."
Kestral grinned broadly. "You can count on it."
…
Aminah reached up and tugged on Lady Sabatt's skirt. The lady promptly obliged by looking down at her and smiling. "Good evening, Aminah. Isn't it past your bedtime?"
"Not yet." Aminah glanced sideways at her mother, who was talking to that woman Uncle Ammar had gone and married. "Soon. Then we leave in the morning."
"So soon? That's hardly fair."
Aminah pouted. "I know. I want to stay more."
"Well," Lady Sabatt said matter-of-factly, placing both hands on the knob of her cane. "It can't be helped. I shall have to say my goodbyes tomorrow."
"Will you wave from the harbour?"
"I promise."
Aminah smiled, then looked down at the cobbles, eyes suddenly stinging. Lady Sabatt was her first proper grown-up friend, and she was going to lose her – and Uncle Ammar, too, because he had someone else to pay attention to now. "I – I'm going to miss you," she whispered, trying very extremely hard not to cry.
There was the sound of rustling skirts – then arms wrapped warmly around her. "I'll miss you too."
…
Hakim waited until Jabir had retrieved his daughter before approaching Maria. As fond as he was of his niece, this was one conversation that he preferred she not hear.
As he stepped up behind her, she turned and smirked. "Well. My congratulations."
"Thank you."
Maria chuckled. "You're welcome. What other inane pleasantries can we use? The weather is very fine tonight."
He rolled his eyes, and she laughed again and nodded towards the other side of the marketplace. "I no longer have to punish you, I see."
Hakim looked over his shoulder, and felt his lips shift into an excessively sentimental smile. Kestral was chatting to a group of nobles he barely knew, eyes sparkling, giggling happily. It was almost impossible for him to tear his eyes from the sight. "She seems content with the situation."
"I'm sure she is!" Maria tilted her head sideways, smiling archly. "There was once a day when I would have done anything to be in her shoes."
"What do you mean?"
Her eyes glinted mischievously. "Not so long ago, Southerner, I was madly infatuated with you."
Surprise prevailed over any other emotion. He blinked, attempting to digest the information, then raised an eyebrow. "That is a slightly alarming revelation."
She laughed aloud – something he had not seen in a long while. Perhaps ever. "No need for concern. The attraction has long since faded."
"Flattering." He raised his other eyebrow.
"Your own fault, I'm afraid." Her mirth continued unabated. "I lost all interest in you around the time you hit me in the jaw."
The funny side presented itself forcefully, and he couldn't help but join her laughter, grinning ruefully. "Well. I did not expect that."
"Why not?" She giggled a little. "I remember finding you rather fascinating. You were certainly a match for me, which was something I wasn't very used to at the time. But, of course, you never noticed me." She nodded towards his wife. "You had eyes only for Kestral."
"Sorry to disappoint."
"Oh, I'm not disappointed, Ammar." Her expression softened as she glanced over her shoulder towards Thordal. "I've got my very own Viking to make up for it. Besides." The amusement in her eyes faded slightly; her mouth tightened. "It was not you I was in love with. It was the ideal – a memory of a boy who had been kind to me when no one else would. A dream of a Prince Charming that might one day rescue me from the nightmare that was my life." She smiled humourlessly. "One I held onto for years, even as I stopped believing in fairy tales."
He swallowed, unsure of the appropriate response. "And then?"
Sabatt half-smiled, genuinely this time. "And then I met you in Narlind."
"Ah."
"Exactly." She exhaled a little. "A Prince of Sahir al-Awan wandering around in the middle of a war zone was convenient for no one, and dangerous for you, especially considering – well, let's not rehash a painful topic."
"So you locked me up. Touching."
Her smirk returned. "Today is your day for sarcasm, isn't it? I could not anticipate, of course, that the rogue would come along and free you. It changed everything."
The Janubian glanced fondly across at his wife. "She certainly did."
"Yes." There was no resentment in Maria's tone. "When I saw you again in al-Awan, I must admit that you caught me by surprise. Not because you were there, for that was expected, but that you had thrown in your lot with the Darion Empire – and that you stayed with them even after Janub was safe."
"I surprised myself," he responded dryly.
"I know." She looked up at him, a strange expression on her face. "It was there, at Tijah, as we fought, that I realised the hero of my girlhood's imagination did not exist. Ammar al-Basir was no Prince Charming – he was a human being who remembered not a moment of what I had clung to and, moreover, saw me as a hated enemy." She hesitated. "It was a rather uncomfortable thought."
His gaze shifted downwards guiltily. "I'm sorry."
"You could not have known." She shrugged elegantly, the amusement flickering back to life. "Even if you had, would you have cared?"
"Honesty compels me to say no."
"Oh, now you make a point of telling the truth," she teased.
He mock-glared at her. "That hurts, Maria."
"And admitting feelings, too – what progress!" She sobered. "But I was wrong to give up on you. Ironic to think that, months and months after I abandoned all thought of you as my childhood hero, my prince did save me after all." Her hand reached up, a finger tracing the line of the shrapnel scars criss-crossing her face. "Not quite in the way I expected, but nevertheless. Thank you."
"You are most welcome." He smiled wryly. "And thank you."
"What for, specifically?"
He shrugged, a grin tugging at his mouth. "Everything."
"How all-encompassing."
"I like to be thorough." He glanced over her shoulder. Savas stood by the cathedral, leaning against one of the statues adorning the doorway, watching them. Hakim grimaced involuntarily. He still felt ill at ease around the representative of the Desert Raiders, but he owed him a definite debt. It was surprisingly easy to force a flippant tone. "Will you excuse me? I'm afraid I have a long list of people to thank tonight."
She smiled and dropped an ironic curtsy, and, chuckling, he moved away and approached the Raider. As he came near, Savas raised a glass in silent toast. The prince knew the Raiders well enough to know it would not be alcohol.
"Well done, Your Highness."
"Really?" he asked wryly, a little relieved. "I was under the impression your people would be rather unimpressed."
The Raider shrugged a single shoulder. "It is much more convenient for us."
"Convenient?"
"A divided authority is useful for no one." Hakim gave him a look of blank puzzlement, but was rewarded with nought but a low chortle. "You are not terribly well educated on our traditions, are you, Your Highness?"
"I was under the impression that I understood the basics," he replied, one eyebrow raised.
"But merely the basics." Savas took a slow sip, watching his monarch over the top of the glass. "Were you to actually examine our articles, you would discover that our allegiance belongs to the one who retrieved the regalia. Not merely the possessor."
Hakim's mind shot back without his bidding to the fateful three days in the desert of al-Awan. With Kestral. But how did the Raiders even –
Savas' smirk deepened. "And divided authorities are so tedious, don't you agree?"
Hakim could not think of a sensible response. Fortunately, he did not need to do so. An arm slipped into his, and a captivating smile looked up at him. "What's this all about?"
"It is a long story, which Prince Ammar would tell better than I." Savas bowed politely. "If you'll excuse me, Your Highness? I have my duties to attend to."
"Of course," Hakim responded, trying to sound commanding and failing utterly. It was hard to behave like an authoritative royal when the entire basis for that authority and power had just been called into question. "Thank you for your assistance."
"My pleasure." Savas bowed again, then turned and melted into the shadows.
Hakim immediately turned his attention to his bride, searching her face. How had he not considered that receiving assistance in retrieving the regalia would dilute his claim? He was a fool.
"What?" Kestral laughed, and suddenly he did too. Today seemed to be the day for shaking his assumptions. Had he ever truly been in control of a single situation in his adult life? And did it really matter?
No. Not really. He bent and kissed her lips, then her cheek. "Never mind."
"Oh no." She eyed him sternly, face inches from his. "Don't ya dare."
"Dare what?"
"Hide stuff from me. I'm not gonna stand for it." She cleared her throat solemnly. "From now on, we communicate clearly, m'kay? No more stupid misunderstandings."
"Very well. I shall do my poor best."
"Then 'fess up."
He hesitated. Objectively speaking, it was absolutely fine – even wonderful – that Kestral had as much right to al-Awan in the eyes of the Desert Raiders as he did. Still, it was a slight blow to his pride. "May I explain when I have had time to recover from my embarrassment?"
"Ooookay. I guess. But don't think I'll forget." The sternness vanished, and was replaced with concern. She rubbed his arm. "Princey. Are you okay? I mean, Doruk –"
Hakim winced, then sighed. The betrayal was still raw, and he was not keen on discussing the situation in depth. "I'll recover soon enough." He folded her into his arms. "Jabir is the one who deserves pity. He's taken it much harder than I have."
"Understandably." She rested her head against his chest. "What will happen to him? To Doruk, I mean."
"He will be executed," he answered, quiet and bitter, holding her tighter as she flinched. "What other choice do I have?"
"None, I guess. Trial in Jumajir?"
"Yes."
"So he'll be travelling back on the same ship as us." She made a face. "And so will Fari and the kids. Not really much of a honeymoon."
He echoed her expression. "I will admit I did not have romance in mind when I made the initial travel arrangements." He released her, looking down into her face thoughtfully. "We could go elsewhere, if you like. I can spare a couple of weeks, and I'm sure Her Majesty wouldn't mind us borrowing a ship."
"Not a bad idea." She grinned broadly. "Where shall we go?"
"Where would you like to go?"
"Narlind?"
"Kestral," he replied, tone pained, "we are a few weeks from winter. Please do not make me."
"Oh, all right. Hmm. I've never been to Geth."
"Geth it is." At that, she burst into giggles, and he cocked an eyebrow. "What have I said now?"
"Wisey," she spluttered, "here we are, talking about just popping over to Geth as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Ordinary people don't do that, Wisey."
"But Kestral," he protested. "You are anything but ordinary."
"More shameless flattery?"
"Absolutely."
…
At home, when upset, Saraya would go to the little walled garden outside her chambers in Thela's palace. There she would curl up on the floor between two potted plants and cry, safe in the knowledge that no one would disturb her. Here that was not an option; instead, she'd found herself a spot between two of the cathedral's buttresses, hidden from view of the marketplace and, by extension, the Knights of Darion. Tears filled her eyes and crept onto her cheeks, but she refused to allow herself to sob. She was not such a baby as that.
It had not taken her long to notice Ammar's distant attitude towards her. She had excused it easily – they knew one another so little, objectively speaking, and had not spoken in over a year. He would soon grow warmer, she had had no doubt.
But then she'd spotted him looking at Lady Kestral.
He hadn't seen her, luckily, so she'd been able to escape to her room – and spend the next hour dragging up every memory of their time in Hidun. How had she been so foolish? His regard for Kestral was plainly obvious, but her infatuation and selfishness had blinded her most effectively. But she'd said nothing. After all, it was not as if he was being constrained to wed her. Prince Ammar had made the choice of his own free will. It was none of her business, and, given time, she was sure she could make him happy.
So she'd reminded herself again and again in the last day before the wedding. The last hours. The last moments. Then they'd been standing at the altar, and the priest had asked if any objected to their union – and she had seen hope in his expression. Just a fleeting flicker, but enough. That wasn't what had made her release him, though. It was the look in his eyes afterward. Like a man regarding his own tombstone.
"Saraya?"
Lady Alandra's tone was one of gentle concern. The young princess wasn't sure she deserved pity. "I am quite well. Please let me be."
"At least let me take you back up to the castle."
"And face my father again? No, thank you."
Alandra's voice softened further. "He will not be angry with you for long. He's already agreed to sign the treaty with al-Awan anyway – surely he would not have done that if he were truly mad?"
"He only did that because your Queen pressed him to." Saraya's voice shook. "He does not understand."
Alandra crouched beside her. "You love Ammar."
Saraya nodded, fingers twisting in her skirts, still not looking up.
A comforting arm slipped around her shoulders, and it was all she could do not to break down. Clinging to the last vestiges of her pride, she pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dried her eyes. "That's why," she choked out. "He loves her, not me, and I couldn't bear to – to make him unhappy."
Alandra patted her arm. "Good girl," she replied quietly. "I'm proud of you."
Saraya managed a watery smile.
"Ahem."
She looked up, then immediately wished she hadn't. "Your Highness," she said unsteadily.
Prince Ammar cleared his throat a second time, pressing his lips together briefly. "Alandra, may we have a moment?"
Alandra glanced at Saraya for permission, then nodded, stood and withdrew from the sheltered pocket. Saraya got to her feet herself, not very elegantly. "You wish to speak to me?"
"I wish to apologise." He sighed. "I had hoped that I had not hurt you badly, but –"
"I'm fine." As she said it, she became a little more convinced of its truth. "Or I shall be, in not too long a time."
"I am glad." He looked away. "I have been unconscionably horrid to you, Saraya."
She couldn't think what to reply. After a few seconds, he continued. "I think – I hope – that you understand my reasons. But they do not excuse my conduct."
Saraya chewed her lower lip. "You could have spoken to me earlier. If you had simply told me when I arrived that you did not wish to wed me, then I would have freed your from your obligations immediately. There was no need for all of this."
He hugged his chest, regarding her shamefacedly. There was more than a twinge of guilt in the deep, level voice. "I understand that now. I thank you for what you have done for Kestral and myself."
The princess gave a quiet sigh. He would be happy, now; and she still could be. There was time enough. "You are very welcome." She held out her hand, and he took it wordlessly. "I forgive you, Ammar."
…
Thordal took a lingering sip of his mead. He was actually bothering to use a glass tonight, rather than a tankard. Kestie should feel honoured, he thought with an inward grin. Not that she'd notice, of course.
There was something odd about other people's weddings, he mused. He'd felt it at Alandra and Marcus' too, though not to this extent. He was happy for them, 'course – delighted. Thrilled. But, in a corner of his mind, there was a creeping, nagging sensation that he'd had trouble putting a finger on. Until now.
Jealousy. He was jealous. Not of Hakim, obviously: he'd never felt even a tad romantic towards Kestie. Just in general. Watching someone else settle down and prepare to raise a family was enough to fill him with envy.
The Viking had never wanted to marry before, not really. There'd been several lasses back in Narlind who would've been more than happy to catch him, but he'd eluded the lot of 'em. Always more to see, always more to do; no time for roots or family. The lifestyle of a bard had suited him just fine. Back then. Before the Knights. Before the war – wars, really. Before Maria.
The lass was standing over the other side of the Marketplace, talking to Hakim. She really did look lovely. Her deep red dress suited her down to the ground, as did the neat, tight bun she'd pulled her hair into. True, he was more used to seeing it framing her face, but he could get used to the formal look quite easily.
Speaking objectively – which was tough for him – she wasn't strictly pretty. Once, maybe, but the Bydgovians and a few kegs of black powder had put paid to that. But still he could never take his eyes off her face. The scars threaded all over her skin, far from rendering her repulsive, gave her expression a character it hadn't possessed before. Each quirk of her brow and twitch of her lips set her entire countenance alive.
She laughed, then, something the Janubian had said clearly tickling her, and he stood, captivated. Nah, she wasn't pretty. She was beautiful, the sassy little piece. But that wasn't why he loved her. She'd changed so much over the past years – gone from a crazy power-hungry lass to a genuinely sweet woman. Even if she kept the sweetness buried under a thick layer of dry wit. He liked to think he'd had something to do with that change. He hoped he had.
And she hadn't left him untouched, either. He'd come to feel responsible for her, and that had definitely changed him. He'd needed to be a stable rock for her to lean on, not a shifting traveller, and to his surprise he hadn't minded at all. And then watching her with Kessie, and Hakim, and Aminah ...
On an impulse, he drained his glass, deposited it on the nearby table and marched across towards the conversing pair. Hakim, seeing him approach, nodded to both and moved away.
"Hey, kitten," Thordal greeted Maria casually, draping an arm around her shoulders. "Enjoying yourself?"
"Naturally." She smirked, amber eyes lighting as she looked up into his face. "Are you?"
"'Course. I love a good wedding."
"Strictly speaking, this wasn't a particularly good wedding."
"At least the right people got hitched. Counts for something."
"I suppose. Ammar certainly seems to think so."
"He would!" Thordal laughed deeply. "How's Kestie?"
"Bubbling."
"Brilliant." For a moment, he was uncertain of what to say. Four years earlier, if anyone had told him he'd be standing here now with this particular lady under his arm, he'd have told them to wait until Husran froze over. And yet here he was, contemplating ...
Maria tilted her head. "Viking, is something wrong?"
"Nah." He patted her back. "Just thinking."
"About what?"
"Mighty curious tonight, aren't you, kitten?"
"I hope you're not referencing the proverbial cat."
"Not at all."
"Good." She briefly fiddled with one of the plaited strands hanging down his chest, spinning the metal ring securing the end. "Did I overhear Bubbles insulting the beard earlier?"
"What will you do to her if I say yes?" he teased, chuckling despite himself. She'd gone and developed a protective streak lately; any revenge would probably be extremely creative.
"Oh, not much."
"Just truss her up and hang her from the ceiling, right?"
"Something like that." Eyes twinkled, and a little scar by her mouth crinkled. "Of course, I'd have to contend with the southerner, but I am reasonably confident that if I took him by surprise –"
"Maria," he blurted. "Have you thought about buying the cow?"
She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"Jumping the broom. Taking the plunge. Y'know what I mean."
"I'm afraid you've lost me completely."
"Tying the knot? Feeding for life from the same bucket? Singing a duet?"
Her eyes widened, and his heart decided to halt. "Oh."
"Yeah." He took a long, deep breath, hoping that the look of total shock on her face wasn't a sign she was gonna run. "I love you, honey. Enough that I'm pretty sure I'm not ever gonna stop. Can't say I've spent much time considering settling down before, but it sounds like a pretty good idea. Your thoughts?"
For a long, slightly horrible moment she stared blankly up at him – then laughed softly, her face relaxing into the prettiest smile it had ever worn. "What, you're not going to serenade me?"
"If you like, lassie, but I warn you that the only songs I can think of right now are battle anthems."
"Probably not appropriate, then." She chuckled – almost a giggle – then kissed him lightly. "Se tu vuoi, I think."
"Now I'm the confused one. Translation?"
She smirked. "If you like."
"Wonderful!" The Viking beamed broadly. "So does that mean we can get hitched?"
A half-martial, half-teasing light glinted in her eyes. "Oh, no."
He felt his smile lessen as he watched her cautiously. She was impossible to read in these moods. "Really confused now, girlie."
"My meaning is quite simple." Her mouth twitched impishly. "We aren't engaged until you do this properly."
"Lass, please don't tell me you expect me to ask your father."
She laughed aloud. "Hardly! I've been of age for quite some time, you know."
Reflecting that an answer in the affirmative would probably be rewarded with a slap, he rapidly cast his mind over daft southern marriage customs. "You want me to sling you over my shoulder and kidnap you, kitten?"
"You wouldn't dare."
"Nah, I wouldn't." Aye, he remembered now. He was supposed to kneel down and present a ring and all that lot. Trouble being he didn't have a –
Ah. Actually, he did. Plenty of 'em. Struggling to repress a rather roguish grin, he let her go and began to fumble with one of the braids in his beard. He freed the metal band fastening it with a minimum of discomfort and cleared his throat.
"You're going to propose to me with that?"
"Stopgap solution 'till I get a better one, honey."
"It better be." She lifted her brows, but her eyes were grinning merrily. "It's not even going to fit on my ring finger."
"Then it can go on your pinky," he replied cheerfully, and dropped to one knee. "Maria del Cordillera –" – and he rolled the 'R's dramatically – "– my darling girlie girl, d'you care to be my lawfully wedded wife?"
Maria chuckled pleasantly, offering her left hand ceremoniously, her entire face beautifully alive. "I do."
He slipped it onto her little finger, his smile growing wider by the second. "Now, then, lassie –"
"CRIMMY!" Kestie gave a squeal of delight and bolted towards them, practically knocking Maria over with a violent hug. "You didn't!"
"We did." Maria freed herself from Kes' grasp with an expressive look at Thordal, and he chortled.
"Aye, we did, Kessie. We're – what d'you call it?"
"Engaged," Maria said dryly, nodding to Marcus and Alandra as they approached, both grinning. "May I hug my fiancé now?"
"Oh, go on." Kestral shoved her towards Thordal, and he caught her successfully, his chuckles transforming into outright laughter. Half the marketplace was looking at them now, and he didn't care the tiniest bit.
Life was good.
…
"What is going on over there?" Saraya asked as she and Hakim rounded the corner of the cathedral, pointing towards a throng rapidly gathering at the other side of the market square.
Hakim blinked. Thordal and Maria appeared to be at the centre of the commotion. He shrugged and quickened his step towards the group.
"Excuse me," a voice said politely.
He stopped automatically, turned – and staggered as a fist slammed briskly into his face.
"How dare you!" Now Hakim recognised the voice, even as his hand flew to his nose.
"Hello, Milo," he said thickly, glancing apologetically at Saraya, who was retreating rapidly. "I can explain."
"Can you now?" The young bandit planted his hands on his hips, fixing Hakim with an accusing glare not unlike Kestral's. "Can you explain why you've gone and broken my sister's heart? What excuse can you possibly –"
"Hawker!"
Hakim started to sigh in relief, then stopped and winced. Kestral, charging across the square to the rescue. "Milo, you – you ninny!" She clapped a hand over her mouth, laughing through her fingers.
"Ninny?" the boy repeated, looking distinctly affronted. "For crying out loud, Kessie, I'm trying to defend you here!"
"He married me, you dolt! Keep up!"
Milo stared at his sister blankly for a moment. "Wait. What?"
"He was gonna marry Saraya," she said slowly and carefully, as if spelling it out for a child. "But then stuff happened, and then he married me. Got it?"
"Stuff happened. Got it." Milo rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh. Sorry, Sandpit."
"You better be." Kestral turned to Hakim with a half-giggle. "Wisey, are you okay?"
"I think my nose is bleeding," he replied with as much dignity as he could muster.
She promptly pulled a handkerchief from a hidden pocket in her skirts. "It is. Here."
He accepted it gratefully and held it to his maltreated organ, watching with amusement as Kestral rounded on her younger brother again. "Seriously, Hawker, haven't ya learned to ask questions before punching people yet?"
"Hey, I – waitasecond." Milo's eyes narrowed. "Are you telling me that you've gone and gotten married without me?"
"Uh. Yes?"
"I wanted to give you away!"
"Tough. Thordie did."
"Can I punch him?"
Kestral snorted. "I'd like to see you try."
Hakim cleared his throat, removing the handkerchief from his nose. The uncomfortable trickle of blood had stopped, he thought, though it was hard to tell when his whole head was now throbbing. "If I can interrupt this touching reunion? I need to wash my face."
Milo jerked a finger towards the fountain. "There."
"Cut it out, Hawker," Kestral replied genially, slipping her arm into Hakim's. "C'mon, Wise Boy."
…
Maria watched in amusement from across the marketplace as Kestral towed her battered and bleeding husband off towards the castle. It was a picture she'd seen before, albeit in rather different circumstances. Perhaps she'd see it again.
Was it three years since that day in Tijah? How things had changed. She looked over her shoulder and chuckled softly as she watched Marcus fussing over Alandra. The poor boy was doing his best to convince her to wear a shawl. She was having none of it. Three years ago, they'd been dancing around one another, both far too shy to even look one another directly in the eye. And now, today, they were wearing wedding rings and Alandra was looking distinctly thick around the middle. It was rather adorable. And, of course, Ammar and Kestral were even more fun to watch. The Janubian was her oldest friend, and the gypsy her dearest; she couldn't have planned it better herself. But she'd miss them.
"Okay there, kitten?" Thordal hugged her from behind and kissed her atop her head.
Maria leaned back against him with a sigh, smiling in what was probably a dreadfully sentimental fashion, too contented to talk. Yes, she was losing her friends, but she was gaining much as well. Three years ago, the idea of marrying the Viking holding her in his arms would have been madness to her. Now it was as perfect as she could imagine an idea being.
"Thordal?" she murmured.
"Hullo, sweetheart."
"I love you."
He laughed quietly, holding her a little tighter. "I love you too."
And then, as if by magic, the sky exploded. Rocket after rocket blitzed into the sky, bursting into a dozen different sparkling colours. A smug smile crept onto her face as she surveyed her handiwork.
So much had changed, in ways she never could possibly have imagined. She'd changed too. Crimson Sabatt had yielded to the only person she ever could, and Maria had taken her place. And she was determined, clichéd though the sentiment may be, to live happily ever after.
"Lass?" Thordal sounded almost anxious. "Are you gonna tell the panicking crowds that the sky isn't falling?"
She smirked. "In a minute."