To Whatever End (Echoes of Imara Book 1) (7 page)

“All right, then, bring it in,” she said and waved to one of the footmen standing silently just outside the door.

It took two men to bring in Daro’s chest. The wood was polished to a shine and the distinctly Imaran design was the height of Halthian fashion. The scripted
D
was featured on the lower right side, and Cecily was pleased to see the footmen carry it in so her husband’s mark was clearly visible. She stole a glance at her mother, hoping to read something in her expression, but Martessa’s face was a stoic mask. She narrowed her eyes as if scrutinizing the chest as the footmen set it down in front of her. Liliana’s empty teacup hung in her limp hand and she gaped, her eyes wide.

Cecily suppressed a feeling of satisfaction. Her mother was trying desperately to hold her emotions in, but Cecily could read her expression. She had not expected this.

“As you can see, the design is completely unique. There isn’t another piece that can match its beauty.” She paused and saw an inkling of emotion cross her mother’s face. “I thought it would look perfect just over there,” she said, gesturing to a space below a window. “It will make a remarkable conversation piece.”

Her mother looked at the space Cecily indicated and nodded to herself ever so slightly. Cecily could see her calculating the social value of such an item. Would her friends find it enviable, or would they remember the artist in question was the rogue her daughter had run off with?

The social boost of owning the piece seemed to win out over her mother’s disdain for Daro. She motioned to the footmen. “You heard her, put it over there. I suppose that will have to do. It is a bit dark, but one can’t argue with what is fashionable.”

Cecily smiled. “Daro will be so pleased that you like it.”

Her mother’s face snapped back to her. “Where is he? Surely you have not been abandoned in the city?”

“He sends his regrets, but business keeps him occupied.”
You treat him like refuse every time he comes here so it’s not likely he will ever visit again.

Martessa pressed her lips together and turned to address Liliana. “Improper, if you ask me, that a husband should leave his wife to go roaming around the city. At least he has the decency to dress you well these days.”

Cecily couldn’t suppress a smirk as she recalled her husband undressing her earlier. She decided it would be best to cut the visit short. Despite her mother’s attempts at unpleasantness, the visit had been rather painless. She didn’t want to stay too long and risk it turning sour.

“With that, I’m afraid I must depart,” she said. “Lily, it was lovely to see you, as always. Mother, thank you for your hospitality on such short notice. I hope you enjoy the gift, and please give my best to both Father and Royce.”

Liliana sprung up from her seat and embraced her sister. “It was just wonderful to see you,” she said as she pulled away. Cecily smiled and turned to the door.

“Cecily.” Her mother’s voice made her stop. “I’m glad to see you are in good health. Although your choice of clothing tells me you have no news of a growing family to share with us.”

And there it was. Cecily should have run for the door the moment she got complacent about the visit. She’d thought her mother had run out of things to hurt her with, but of course, Martessa always seemed to know what to say to cut her deep. “No, I’m afraid I bring no such tidings,” Cecily said without turning around.

“Hmm. I suppose it will be for the best, given what that man is. Liliana, I trust you won’t be married for quite so many years before starting a family of your own, dear.”

Cecily didn’t answer, nor did she wait for her sister’s reaction. She simply walked away, down the hall and out the door. A footman scrambled out after her, offering to send for the carriage, but she ignored him and kept walking. A carriage would suffocate her.

She walked to the street and turned, fumbling for the strings of her corset to loosen it. Of course her mother would ask
that
question. Better she had asked for details about the war, something Cecily rarely discussed even with those closest to her. Her heart beat too quickly and she felt panic rising to constrict her throat. She shouldn’t let her mother do this to her, but starting a family was the last thing she wanted to discuss with her. She wished she could have turned around and told her mother they were choosing not to have children, choosing to wait until a later time. But as tears sprung to her eyes, she knew she wouldn’t have been able to get the words out, because they certainly weren’t true.

She set off, knowing her shoes were unsuited to the walk. She needed to escape this world and push all thoughts of her mother aside. She needed to feel Daro’s arms around her, but most of all, she needed a large goblet of very strong wine.

6. OF WARS PAST

Daro sat at a large round table in the back room of the Rising Sun Inn. He leaned against the chair and stretched his legs in front of him. After spending the better part of the day delivering items to his more prestigious clients, his legs were tired.

He thought about his wife and fidgeted in his seat. He hated letting her face the wolves by herself, but he knew that his presence at her family home only made things worse. Funny, there had been a time when he’d thought the Graymeres might be coming around to him; the father, anyway, and her mother had seemed a little less acidic for a while. That certainly hadn’t lasted. It was a relief to know he could avoid them, although he felt selfish for having the thought. He didn’t care whether they thought him a backwoods savage or not, but it bothered him that it was hard on Cecily.

“Should we go looking for her?” Edson asked. He’d spent the day with Daro, helping with his deliveries and gawking at the city.

“No, she’ll be here before long.” He took another swig of ale.

“What if something happened to her?”

Daro smiled. “Trust me, she can handle herself.”

Edson laughed. “Yes, but this is a big city and I’ve heard all sorts of dark things happen in the streets. I was just wondering if we should be worried about her is all.”

“If someone tries to hurt my wife, they picked the wrong target.” So maybe he was bragging a little. He couldn’t help but be proud of her. And it was certainly true; concern for her physical well-being hadn’t occurred to him. “Maybe her visit went better than she expected. I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

The door swung open, and Daro looked up, hoping to see his Cecily. Instead he saw a man dressed immaculately in a deep green doublet that bore the king’s sigil embroidered on the chest. Daro rose from his chair as the man approached the table and reached out his hand to greet his old friend.

“Alastair,” Daro said, and both men put a hand to their chests and bowed formally before sharing a friendly embrace. “It is good to see you, old friend.”

Alastair smiled, the edges of his eyes showing just the faintest sign of age and his short dark hair made him look tidy and well-kept. “The pleasure is all mine. I’m glad to see you made it all the way back to our fair city.” He looked down at the mostly empty table and added, “But you seem to have forgotten something rather important. Where is that beautiful wife of yours? You know I’m happy to see you, but she is a good deal more pleasant to look at.”

“That she is,” he said with a smile. Daro took his seat. Alastair followed and motioned to the serving girl. “She will be here shortly, I’m sure,” Daro answered. “She had other business to attend to today.”

“You shouldn’t let that woman out of your sight in this city,” Alastair said with a grin. “She might not want to leave.”

“You’d have me play her escort? Come Alastair, you know her better than that. Cecily has a mind all her own.”

“That she does, that she does,” Alastair answered.

Daro introduced Edson, who seemed appropriately awed by the finery Alastair wore. “Alastair and I have known each other a long time. We trained together and traveled as merchant guards before he earned his current post at the palace.”

“Did you fight in the war?” Edson asked, his voice low as if asking for a secret.

Daro frowned, but Alastair nodded. “That I did, young man. Fought alongside your master here, and his wife as well. It was a hard road, helping Rogan become king.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a loud whisper. “Although, if you haven’t noticed, the war isn’t exactly Daro’s favorite topic of conversation.” Daro shot him a glare. “But still, we heroes have to stick together.”

An uncomfortable silence fell which Daro did not attempt to break. Alastair shifted in his seat and looked pointedly at Daro, as if daring him to speak. He remained silent.

Finally, Edson rose and ran a hand through his hair. “I need to, uh…” He trailed off and walked away without finishing.

Alastair took a pull from his mug and nonchalantly set it down. “What?” he said finally.

“Don’t go filling that boy’s head with all that heroes nonsense,” he said. “Yes, there was a war. I know this. But we didn’t make Rogan the king and I don’t like the insinuation that we did.”

“Come now, I’m not trying to dredge up uncomfortable memories,” Alastair answered. “I’m sorry for trying to have a bit of fun at your expense. But knowing you as I do, I’m sure that boy doesn’t know half of what happened.”

“And why should he? It happened. It’s over. I just want peace.”

Alastair rolled his eyes. “Peace. Is that it? Is that why you disappeared to the edge of the world?”

“I’d hardly call Norgrost Keep the ‘edge of the world.’”

Alastair paused for a moment. “Daro, what are you doing?”

Daro looked around, feigning confusion. “Drinking ale, last I checked.”

Alastair frowned. “You know full well what I mean. You ran off to the middle of nowhere to spend your days doing what—tinkering, making trinkets? You should be shaping men. Instead you’re hiding out, and keeping her hidden away too. It’s such a waste.”

Daro stared at his mug for a long moment before answering. “There are two things I am good at. One is loving my wife. The other is killing men. Loving my wife doesn’t cause nightmares. Leading men always led to death. When I was younger, I thought I could use my skills to protect people. But I did things in those days I’m not proud of, and I don’t intend to repeat those mistakes.”

“You’re far too hard on yourself,” Alastair replied. “What man hasn’t done things he regrets?”

Daro met Alastair’s eyes. “We all have our own ways of dealing with what we did. And I’m not talking about our days protecting merchant caravans. Your way was to stay here, be involved, serve the king. I’m sure the benefits of your newfound station don’t hurt either,” he said and gestured to Alastair’s fine clothes. “I have my own way. I didn’t want to be involved in the first place, but we did what needed to be done and that is the end of it.”

Alastair sighed and lowered his voice. “You act as if we did something shameful—as if you want to sweep it under the rug. We did what needed doing, Daro. Plain and simple. King Hadran was insane, we all knew it. What he did out at Madrona Keep…” He trailed off and turned away. “You were there. You saw it. You saw how many people died, innocent people. And King Rogan is a good man. You know that too. We did what was right and the kingdom is better for it. You should be here, Daro. You could make a difference here, serving a good king.”

Daro clenched his teeth and felt his anger rise. He took a deep breath. He didn’t want to argue with his friend. He was about to reply when he realized another man was standing next to the table.

“Good timing, Callum,” Alastair said with a hearty laugh. “I suspect Daro was about to throttle me. Please, sit down.” He shoved a chair backwards.

Callum brushed his dark hair from his eyes. He was dressed in his usual long black coat with a wide collar turned up around his neck, a loose-fitting black shirt and trousers, and shiny black boots with the tops folded down. He sank down in a chair next to Alastair and flipped a gold coin along his knuckles.

Daro forced himself to relax and nodded to Callum. As always, he was struck by Callum’s youthful appearance as the man peeked out from behind his slightly disheveled hair with a rather boyish grin. “Good to see you,” Daro said. “We weren’t sure if you’d be here this year.”

“I live nearby, so it’s convenient enough,” Callum said with a shrug. His gaze swung back and forth between Daro and Alastair, one corner of his mouth turned up slightly. “So, what are we talking about? Clearly not the price of wine.”

“I was simply trying to figure out why our friend here has run off to the farthest reaches of the kingdom and seems content to waste his life making trinkets for the gentry,” Alastair said. He leaned back in his chair and set his mug down hard.

“I would hardly say I ran away. Besides, what do you know about my life? I trained for years learning how to hurt people under the guise of defending them. And what did that get me? A lot of blood on my hands. Now I need to create. I need to keep busy, and the things I make are hardly trinkets. I have something now that I can take pride in. I do good work and I’ve made a good home for my wife.”

“You can’t keep hiding her away, you know,” Alastair replied. “She thrives here, you have to see that. She was born here, this is her home. She shouldn’t be living out in the wild. She needs more to keep her happy.”