But they would. All six of them and more would return someday and see the castle as it should have been, a lovely home to her son and his mate. The one, she herself, had hand-picked for her beloved child. Oh, to be able to see them grow into love. But it was not to be.
Getting up before she made a fool of herself by crying over something she had no control over, Dante did indeed head to her bed. For tomorrow and the next day would be the hardest of anything she’d ever done.
~*~
Dante didn’t sleep. She’d not closed her eyes to rest in more years than she could count on both her hands
and then her toes. It was all right, she supposed. Dante was able to get more done this way. But she did pace herself. She’d never survive these last days if she were to fall apart now.
“Mistress, there are two men here to see you. They wish to know who has carved your turrets. I did not tell him the birds atop the castle are as real as he.” Mary shook her head at the folly of some men. “I should have called them down to talk to him about how they were made. I think he might well have soiled his britches.”
“Mary, please tell them the lady of the castle is busy and does not have time to tell him of the art he is looking at. What manner of person would ask such a thing? As if I didn’t have the sense of that turtle caught in the drain last week. Nay, tell them to move on before I toss them into the sea.”
Mary went to tell them just what she had said. Dante was smiling when she heard Mary laughing. She’d no doubt make the way she’d told her to move them on to extremes. It would serve the men right if she really would call down one of her birds to take care they didn’t bother her again.
Dante made her way to the drying room at the back of the kitchen. She had been brewing a brew for several days now.
“You’re not going to be going with us, are you, my lady?” She turned to look at her great phoenix. “If you do not explain to me what your plan is, I think to tell your falcon what I have figured out. She will not allow you to die. Nor will I be all right with your death.”
“I must die, my beautiful friend. For if the king were to find that this castle and all that was here when he set sail were gone, what do you think he’d say to his men? That it was a good thing she left? That now he didn’t have to kill her? Nay, he would send them to find me and my people. I do not wish anyone else to be harmed for what he wants from me.” The phoenix, Piper, would be her name someday, asked her if she expected her birds to do the killing of Dante. “In a way. I have this brew here. It is nearly set for me to drink down. The castle and its walls, they must come down, or it will be all for naught. I might have misjudged something in my dream, so I wish to make sure that all is taken care of, including my people. This, what I have made—it will have me dead before you drop the first stone upon the only home I have ever had. You as well, my dear bird, must be gone should he arrive.”
“Mercy will not be willing to help.” Dante told her she would because she’d know what Dante said now was the truth. “Aye, you say that, but I think her to be most upset with the turn of events, my lady. It will break all our hearts to know you have left us behind.”
“I shall never leave any of you behind. I will be forever in your hearts, and you in mine as I take my last breath.” The phoenix nodded but didn’t say anything more for some time. “He will die before he gets to the land. This king who thinks to murder me in my own bed. And those that he brought with him, they too will perish. ‘Tis a folly on his part to think I’d just do as he wants as if I have no mind of my own. I know Mercy will kill him and all that have been forced to come here with him. It’s not such a bad thing, these deaths, Phoenix. It will be merciful to all that have ridden the seas to make their way here.”
After the bird left her, she pulled the large cauldron off the hot flames and covered it with a lid. Even though there were no children about nor anyone working in the kitchens, she would feel terrible if any harm would come to anything right now. Making her way back to the throne room, or what was left of it, she laid on the floor to look up at the sky.
Dante hated heights. While she forever knew she’d never see the time when there would be airplanes in her sky, she knew they were set to come. She was content, for now, to bask in the beautiful view she’d miss more than she thought she might.
Getting up, Dante made her way to the side of the castle that faced the sea.
“Oh, to see the waterways filled with my own ships again. To see them sailing off to find new things to bring back to us.” There were ships out there—she could just make out their flags. None of these were her tormentor, she knew. He would be visible in two days. Still a long way out to sea. He would be nothing more than a small speck in the open waters, but she’d still be able to see him. “Why now? Why have you made your plans to include me at this time? I wish more and more I’d been born a male. Then no one would dare to come here. I might well have been the king of all the lands had it been so.”
Her ships had been taken to the coves not far from here. By the time they were remembered, they would be nothing more than rotted wood and material. Dante wouldn’t want them to be seaworthy again. It might well be the thing that got her people killed. Even in the future, the bits and pieces she could see, the ships would only cause people to look harder for her remains and perhaps run into New Town, where her people lived. That, she knew, would be a danger to all.
“Mother? Are you here?” She turned to look at her son. Duncan had been coming to her of late to get more lessons and her thoughts on things, as well as how to manage a vast kingdom such as the one she was leaving him. “I thought for sure you’d be here. I have a favor to ask of you. ‘Tis a small one, but one I think you can give me. I should like to spend the night here, within these walls, once with you. I have spoken to Mary about it, and she thinks you will grant me this one wish. It will be the first and last time the two of us will be able to be under the same roof since I was born.”
“I should like that. Very much.” He nodded and smiled at her. “There is so much to tell you, and so much more, I think I have forgotten to pass on to you. But for this night, I shall not speak of the king coming here. Nor of my life ending. You are aware of it, my child. This, I know. But to have you here with me this last night? It is more than I could have asked for.”
They made their plans to sleep on the same ticking she’d been resting on since her bed had been taken away. As they curled up under a thick blanket, the two of them talked more than they rested. Tears were shed, of course. There was no way to avoid such a thing. But there was laughter too, much more of it than tears.
“I shan’t be here tomorrow when you are set. I cannot be of sound mind when I know what is to happen to you. I will tell you, Mother, that there couldn’t have been a better person to raise me. Nor one that has loved me as well as you have.” She kissed him on the forehead as he spoke again. “For so long as I live, Mother dear, I will keep you in my heart, along with the birds that will be mine as well. I love you—much more than I think any child could their parent. You are the best there is. I shall kill anyone that says differently.”
She had no words to give him after that. Her heart, already tender, was breaking more. It might well have done her better not to have spent the night with her son. But it would have been harder on her, she thought, to not have this time with him with no others around.
Finally, when she could speak without tearing up, even more, Dante told her son that she loved him. That he’d be a better king than she had been a queen. After saying that, they both settled into their thoughts until the sun came rising up from the seas that surrounded them.
Today, she knew, would be her last day to breathe in the air and take in food for her belly, and the very last time she’d order her birds to do something she knew they’d hate her for.
Chapter 1
Glad that the holidays were over, Piper resigned herself to the fact that she would still have to travel a great deal, as well as work. It wasn’t that she was getting bored with what she was doing—she loved making art from pieces of metal and other things more than she did most of the things she’d done in her life. What she was having issues with was twofold. She didn’t want to work, and she didn’t want to travel.
“You don’t have to do either. I know you’re well aware of that.” Piper glared at her sister Remi. “Well, you don’t. Just take some time off and do nothing for a while. You’d be surprised at how invigorating it can be.”
“Oh yeah? When was the last time you took time off to lay about?
I can tell you. Never. You’re a bigger workaholic than I am.” She looked at the piece she was working on. It was going to be beautiful if she did say so herself. However, that wasn’t the issue, either. “I’m not bored, but I hate doing things that people want. Why can’t they just purchase the things I like and leave me alone? I want to make a phoenix again, this one larger than life. I want to work on this project instead of putting things together that people want to show off. Damn it, I want my stuff to be just that. Mine.”