Sorry about the delay in posting! I'm a little ambivalent about ending the story and I lingered quite a lot with this last chapter (and procrastinated by writing long chunks of the epilogue…)This chapter takes place just hours after the last one, in which midwinter was celebrated with varying degrees of gusto and Rissa and Byrn came to terms with one another. It contains characters and real estate belonging to Tamora Pierce. And, without further ado:
It was nearly dawn before the midwinter festivities across the palace grounds drew to a close and light was actually beginning to break as various figures wandered back to their beds.
Strictly speaking, neither Vina nor Karyna managed to walk in a straight line down the knights' corridor. Karyna was quite sober—aside, she thought, from having inhaled the potent fumes of the celebrating Own and Riders (who had miraculously managed to enjoy each other's company while sustaining only relatively minimal brawling injuries)—but limping as exhaustion aggravated her recent injury. And Vina broke into a run when she spotted Rissa making a similarly late (or early) arrival at her own door.
"Happy midwinter!" She hugged her twin, glad to see that some of the unhappiness had left her eyes overnight. "Where have you been?"
"With Byrn." They'd spent the entire night talking in the garden, but Rissa managed to smile mischievously all the same. There had been a rather prolonged kiss goodnight (or possibly good morning).
"Oh." Vina smiled and quirked an eyebrow. "I thought he just wanted to apologize."
"He did and so did I. And then we realized we hadn't seen each other in months and we…I missed him," she admitted. "It was good to see him again and realize we both still—"
"I'm glad for you," Vina murmured. "But is that wise?"
Rissa quirked her head, wondering what wisdom had to do with it.
"I mean—"Vina hesitated and then continued, speaking slowly, "if he's going to get engaged to someone else, then he should be…it won't be fair to her, or to him, or to you for the two of you to keep spending your nights together."
"It isn't as if we—"Rissa began angrily, but Vina put up a hand to stop her.
"It isn't any of my business, but I just think you should think about—"
"You're a fine one to be lecturing me about duty and marriage," Rissa shouted, glancing pointedly at Karyna as she caught up with them, "since you've been happily neglecting both of them—last night and for the last few years." Then she slammed her just-opened door shut and stormed off down the corridor.
"How can you—"Vina yelled.
Karyna grabbed Vina's elbow to keep her from running after Rissa. "That wasn't about us; she's angry with the entire world right now."
"She—"Vina began angrily, but she was interrupted when Sir Keith, the young knight who lived across from her, opened his door just enough to stick his very disheveled head out.
"I don't care what you did last night or who you did it with," he mumbled, "just be quiet about it. Some of us have hangovers."
Vina blinked, trying to decide whether this was a show of annoyance or acceptance or both.
"I highly recommend Queenscove's vile-looking formula," Karyna informed him, "just try not to smell it before you've swallowed it and go before he's had enough tea to produce a proper lecture."
Keith actually nodded at both of them and muttered a groggy 'happy midwinter' as he started down the same way Rissa had disappeared.
Vina shut her eyes. "You were right." She sighed and dropped her head onto Karyna's shoulder. "I just want to fix things for her and she won't even listen to..."
"I know." Karyna kissed Vina's hair and ushered her into her room. "But nobody can magically make this right." She sighed. "It might seem marginally less impossible once you've had some sleep." She nudged Vina towards the bed. "Or at least that will give her time to take her anger out on someone else."
PDPD
"Hey," Dalton murmured, nudging Penelope because he could tell from the slight movement her cheek that she was not asleep. "Happy midwinter."
Penelope smiled and kissed him without opening her eyes. "I'd forgotten."
"You tend to do that." Dalton traced his thumb along her collarbone.
She blinked sleepily at him and lifted a hand to tangle her fingers through his. "I had other things on my mind." She pulled their hands down to rest above her navel.
"Such as?" He pressed his nose to her cheek, chuckling when the cold made her wince.
"Godsparents." She pressed her own icy nose to his shoulder in retaliation. "Cradles. Safe and tiny practice weapons for in a few years. And the fact that I don't know any lullabies."
Dalton kissed her temple. " We can ask Vina—I don't think Rissa is ready to—and Jeck."
"Jeck?" Penelope repeated. The idea hadn't occurred to her, but she found she rather liked it. He wasn't noble, but he was the kind of man she wanted in her daughter's life. And it might have the added advantage of raising a few eyebrows. "I suppose that way we get Selena and Karyna while we're at it."
Dalton nodded, grinning. "Also Jeck has a carpenter friend who can make a cradle for us. And where else are we going to get said small practice weapons?" He propped himself up on one elbow. "And as long as you use a soothing voice, drinking or marching songs will have the same effect as lullabies."
"Really?" Penelope raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"Actually, given the lyrics about babies falling out of trees—"Dalton shrugged—"drinking songs might really be more reassuring than lullabies."
"You seem to have all the answers," Penelope said. "So, I'm just going to dump her in your lap on the days when her favorite word is 'why'."
"I suppose I'd better come up with a reason for the sky to be blue," he muttered, kissing her once more before reluctantly sitting up. "And then there are names—"he began rummaging for clean clothes—"to choose and toys and—"he glanced from Penelope's face to Bandit's bemusedly wriggling tail—"I'm grinning like an idiot, aren't I?"
"Well," she said reasonably, "it is midwinter." And she was grinning much the same way.
PDPD
Rissa's legs carried her to the practice courts without consulting her exhausted mind. She was nearly there when she realized that she was wearing a dress (and still hadn't retrieved her cloak). She stamped her foot in irritation (which made her even more irritated because she was still wearing slippers) and then decided that she might as well grab a spare bow from the archery shed. Shooting at targets would be almost as satisfying as slicing up imaginary opponents.
She rounded the corner and found that Wyldon was already there, shooting with a breathtaking but unhurried efficiency that Rissa envied and knew she could never hope to match.
He nodded once at her, his eyebrow lifting almost imperceptibly at her costume, without altering his own shooting rhythm.
"Do you ever sleep?" she blurted.
"I plan to spend a great deal of time doing so after my death," he informed her. "And, meanwhile, at my age, I don't need or get much sleep."
"Oh," Rissa said.
"And at this point," Wyldon continued, "it's more a matter of self-preservation than self-discipline. My old bones need to move first thing in the morning if they're going to move at all." He fired his last arrow and then set his bow tidily on a nearby bench in order to appraise her.
"You, on the other hand, have come wanting to wear yourself out. It won't work. I mean, you will, in fact exhaust yourself (and probably develop sloppy habits in the process) without altering whatever worrying circumstances drove you here. And whoever you're avoiding will likely still be waiting." He sighed grudgingly before adding. "I would recommend a walk instead—you're too tired and unsettled to shoot straight."
"How would you know?" Rissa muttered, proving his point by demonstrating her inability to self-censure.
"One doesn't get to be my age without doing all sorts of stupid things."
"I understand that the impossible does happen on occasion" she said, her tone more polite now as she fell into step beside him. Disobeying him would be almost as impossible as imagining him doing something stupid.
"But only rarely—as I'm sure Selena would attest—in the marriages and romances of dutiful nobleborn sons and daughters." His voice was kind and matter-of-fact, but it left her in no doubt that he was referring to her own particular circumstances.
"I know." She swallowed. "And I'm not even dutiful. I don't deserve Byr—"
"You don't deserve your dilemma," Wyldon said. "You're living an instance of my original argument that women should not be trained for combat."
Rissa tensed. "I don't see how. It seems to be the only thing I'm good at—fighting with people."
"I mean that you seem to have no choice but to choose between being Byrn's wife—and fulfilling all the duties that would entail—and being a knight of the realm. It's a difficult decision and it appears to be having a demoralizing, not to say distracting, effect on you."
"That doesn't—" Rissa burst out.
"I have not made such an argument in years and I am not inclined to make it now. I am merely attempting to assess the situation." He frowned. "I fear you may not find the same happy compromise that Mindelan and Penelope have. Nor will you get the same rewards Selena has for shunning the role of a noble wife."
Rissa shrugged.
Wyldon shook his head to indicate that this was not an adequate response. "Well," he said, "report."
Then it was almost easy. "I love him," she said. "I love him so much that I'm not willing to risk resenting him later—for keeping me at Briarwood. And he—" she bit her lip—"I think he loves me enough to let me ride away."
"So long as you are not running away from what you feel for him," Wyldon said, a frighteningly perceptive expression on his face.
Rissa swallowed. "He understands that I'm avoiding Briarwood, not his company."
"I see," said Wyldon, in a tone that suggested he did see the difference between their two statements but wasn't planning to make further enquiries.
"Can I ask you—"Rissa began.
"I doubt I am the best person to be answering your questions," he said. "Penelope—"
"had it easy," Rissa said. "Dalton didn't make her chose. And Alanna already knows that nothing she says can change the situation." Rissa sighed. "Sorry. I'd like a favor, actually."
Wyldon raised an eyebrow.
"Will you see me off tomorrow morning?" she asked.
He frowned.
"I mean," Rissa said, "I know you'll be up anyway."
"Wouldn't you rather have Penelope or Vina—"
"It wouldn't work as well. I'll say the rest of my goodbyes tonight." She swallowed. "You're scary, sir. It will hold me accountable—I won't roll over and bury myself under the covers if I know you're waiting for me at the stables. And I won't turn around and back out if I know you've watched me leave for the desert."
"Very well, you have my word," he said slowly. "And my approval."
"I don't know what to say, sir." Rissa turned impulsively and pulled him into a tight hug.
"In my day," he informed her somewhat breathlessly, "a quiet thank you was generally sufficient."
PDPD
"Happy midwinter," Penelope said, shoving a box of biscuits at Neal.
"It isn't. It's early. The two are mutually exclusive and half the palace is hung over." Neal nibbled on a biscuit and found that it restored his faith in the universe. "So why aren't you sleeping in?"
Penelope shrugged cheerfully. "I guess I got tired of dreaming about giving birth to Spidren."
"Pen," Dalton muttered, thinking that at least this explained all her nocturnal rolling and kicking, "that's impossible—they hatch from eggs."
"That's not reassuring," she informed him.
"It is normal though," Neal said. "The dreaming, I mean, not the Spidren spawning, although for them it probably…" he trailed off under Penlope's glare. "Well, you probably have a very particular sense of what would be reassuring," he said. "So you should tell yourself that and then I'll add that you are going to bring a beautiful and completely human baby into the world."
Penelope shrugged, conceding the point, and took one of the biscuits she'd just given him.
"She might be cursed with rabid intelligence or an incurable sense of duty," Neal continued, "but I don't think anyone will blame her parents for—"
Dalton cleared his throat.
"… passing along such minor defects," Neal finished.
"But Neal," Penelope said, "we still need a name for her."
"And you're here because you think you can prise some suggestions out of me as a kind of midwinter gift?"
Penelope nodded. "Ignore the fact that I've eaten one of your bribes."
"You're quite forgiven," he said, gesturing magnanimously. "I'd advise against 'Horse Dung'. Also ' Ugly Lying Coward' and 'Treacherous Back Stabber'—those might lead to suicidal tendencies or a crippled sense of humor. But otherwise, I give you free imaginative rein. I'm sure you'll come up with something that sounds right."
"But," Dalton began, "there are so many possible wrong names."
"The already-stated obvious aside," Neal informed them, "you can't really name someone incorrectly because they'll grow into whatever you give them or fiddle with it until they find a nickname that fits. By the time she's four or so, you want be able to imagine calling her anything else."
"Which ought to be reassuring," Penelope said, "but really is all the more reason to come up with a good one."
Neal nodded, smirking. "Start at one end of the alphabet and work your way to the other," he advised, waving them away as his next patient entered.
PDPD
"Rissa, happy midwinter," Alanna called as Rissa was making her way off the practice courts.
Rissa turned, mustering up a smile. "Happy midwinter."
The older knight stepped closer and gripped Rissa's arm. "How are you?"
"Alright, I guess." Rissa glanced down at the previous evening's attire and shrugged. "I've decided to go to the desert."
"I think you'll learn a great deal there," Alanna told her. "I certainly did."
"I hope so. I'm leaving tomorrow." Rissa swallowed. The more people she told, the more real it was.
"Are you ready?" Alanna frowned slightly, as though giving Rissa permission to do the same.
"No," she admitted, "I won't ever be." She inhaled sharply, trying to will back the tears that were flooding her eyes and thickening her throat. "But I'm afraid that if I don't go now, I won't ever be able to." She scrubbed angrily at her eyes. "And I really can't stay and watch while—"She burst into tears and buried her head against the shoulder Alanna offered.
"Quite understandable," Alanna murmured, wrapping one hand over the back of Rissa's head as she searched unsuccessfully for a handkerchief with the other.
George seemed to melt out of the morning fog just long enough to offer them a handkerchief and a wry smile before darting back to the wall where he'd been leaning as he waited for Alanna.
"I'm sorry," Rissa muttered once she'd wiped her face dry. "I didn't mean to fall apart on you like that. I should be stro—"
"Rissa," Alanna said with the same gentle sternness Wyldon had used half an hour earlier. "Almost everyone falls apart on occasion. The people who don't are too weak to take any risks at all."
Rissa sighed. She'd never claimed not to be reckless.
"And strength is simply a matter of knowing how to pick up your pieces and being brave enough to put yourself back together."
"Right," Rissa muttered, surprising herself with a grim smile, "I'm going to need a broom and some serious adhesive."
"After much trial and error, I've determined that humor and determination work reasonably well." She clapped Rissa's shoulder, sending her on her way. "Midwinter luck," she added, "you'll need it."
PDPD
After years of attending midwinter gatherings in other peoples' rooms, Penelope felt almost as though she were breaking some unwritten rule in hosting her own. The afternoon, however, was not quite as peaceful as she'd hoped. Even Grania's quiet bustle over baby clothes could not mask the fact that Vina (who was letting out seams in some of Penelope's clothes) and Rissa (who was playing chess with Dalton) were unable to meet one another's eyes.
Still, things were comfortable enough until Arielle returned from the archery courts.
"Um," she announced hurriedly to the floor, "Byrn just proposed." She swallowed and sank gratefully into the chair Dalton offered. "I said I needed time to think," she stammered.
"What about?" Grania asked mildly.
Arielle blinked. "I'm not as good as you are at coming up with clever things to say, so I need time to come up with a tactful way of refusing."
Rissa, who'd been studying Bandit's cinnamon-colored fur as though it contained a thousand intricate patterns, slowly lifted her head. "If you're doing that for my sake—"
"It's for my own, actually," Arielle said quickly. "I realize I may not be able to marry a man I love or one who loves me. But at the very least, I'm determined not to marry one who is so obviously already in love with someone else."
Rissa swallowed, nodded, and lowered her head once more.
"Very sensible of you," Grania murmured. "So go regretfully inform him that the proposed match will be impossible under the present circumstances."
"Right." Arielle brightened and stood up. "Thanks." She turned and left.
"What was he thinking?" Dalton muttered.
Penelope cleared her throat amusedly and Grania scowled at him. "Aside from the fact that Arielle is beautiful and smart and kindhearted."
"Obviously." Dalton looked so endearingly sheepish that Penelope reached out to ruffle his hair.
"He knew I wouldn't want to be petty and vengeful towards your sister," Rissa said. "Maybe he even knew she'd say no." She sighed and glanced across the room, looking at her twin for the first time that afternoon. "Vina," she said slowly, "I'm sorry."
Vina drew her eyes from the tunic she was letting out for Penelope and smiled sadly. "I know. It was true, but you didn't mean it."
"You didn't deserve to hear it. Especially not in front of…"
"Karyna isn't avoiding you," Vina informed her. "She's visiting with her cousins this afternoon."
"Oh," Rissa said. "Can you help me pack later then? I'm leaving tomorrow."
Vina sighed. "Only if you come out to the practice courts with me and behave cheerfully."
Rissa nodded slowly, cracking a smile.
"Good," said Penelope, standing up and stretching. "Let's all go."
"Are you sure you're up for—"Vina began, but then she saw Dalton gesturing for her to continue at her own peril if she so desired and simply smiled gratefully at Penelope.
"I could certainly use a little fresh air," Grania added. "And Penelope ought to be able to manage anything I can."
PDPD
Arielle found Byrn exactly where she'd left him on the archery courts.
"An answer already?" he said by way of greeting.
"I thought fast," she admitted. "And I'm afraid I must extend my regrets—"
"Thanks." He grinned and waved away her polite excuse.
She blinked. "You're welcome."
He sighed. "I'm afraid my future fiancée won't be nearly so understanding."
She grimaced sympathetically. "My future suitors won't be nearly so honest."
"Well," he said gravely, "I wish you luck."
"You too," she murmured, lifting her bow as he turned to leave.
Then he turned back again. "Oh, by the way, I think you're shooting will improve if you lower your elbow just a touch." He reached over to adjust her stance. "There. Try that."
She did and found her aim far more accurate. But Byrn slipped away before she could thank him.
Sir Keith stopped Byrn on his way out. "Who was that?" he asked.
"Lady Arielle." Byrn smiled. "Dalton's sister. I can introduce you if you like."
"Didn't she just reject—"
"Honestly, there weren't any hard feelings." Byrn shrugged. "I should warn you, though, that girl knows exactly what she's aiming for."
Keith smiled. "All the more reason to offer her a good target."
PDPD
"Am I allowed to ask how you're feeling now?" Dalton murmured, slinging an arm around Penelope's shoulders as they started off the courts. Rissa and Vina had disappeared an hour earlier, but they'd lingered with Selena (who'd shown up with an invitation to dinner and stayed for some exercise) until dusk and Penelope was looking exhausted.
"You always are," she informed him. "I'll even answer honestly. I feel like I'm a page again."
"You do?"
"I'm frequently hungry, tired, cranky and sore, but generally enjoying life and looking forward to the future."
He kissed her cheek. "And you're still visiting Neal frequently and reporting to Mindelan. Change really is more of the same."
Penelope brushed her nose against his chin. "Someone ought to share that with the conservatives."
"Sorry," Selena said, catching up and overhearing the last bit, "none of them speak to me anymore."
"That must save time during the holiday season," Penelope muttered, "what did you do to—"
"Apparently I married Jeck in order to sleep with Jason."
Dalton blinked. "I would have done so much better in our philosophy classes if we'd been allowed to use logic that convoluted on our essays."
"What about Sara?" Penelope asked.
Selena shrugged. "The lower classes like their gossip a little more realistic. And it didn't stop her from kissing Jason after dinner."
"So they're still…"
Selena smiled. "It certainly took them a long time to clean up the kitchen last night and they wouldn't let us help."
Penelope raised an eyebrow. "And Jeck's still alright with them?"
"I don't think he has any other options at this point, but I think right now he's happy enough that he can't help being happy for them."
Dalton nodded, squeezing Penelope's elbow to remind her that what was happening to Rissa wasn't her responsibility.
PDPD
Rissa was busy rummaging in a chest, so Vina answered the knock at her door and found Byrn outside, carrying a saddlepack and studying his feet.
"I feel like we've done this before," Vina muttered, "you finding us packing, I mean."
Byrn managed to smile grimly. "It's been a few years." He shrugged. "And it didn't really take last time."
He hopes it won't take this time either, Vina realized.
"No," Rissa said, slowly getting to her feet. "But there's nothing like practice—as I imagine you explained to Arielle on the archery courts," she added, to show that she was trying not to mind.
Byrn shrugged again. "She caught on quickly."
Vina snorted softly, uncertain whether he meant Arielle or Rissa, and stepped out of Byrn's way.
"Anyway," Byrn said quickly, "I thought, while you were packing—"he offered the saddlepack to Rissa, who accepted it with a puzzled expression.
"It's mostly and most of yours…"
"You don't have to—"Rissa began.
"Yes." His smile was more of a grimace. "I do. But I should be going."
"Well," Vina said, scanning both their faces in an effort to determine whether they wanted to kiss or kill one another. "Happy midwinter," she murmured finally. Then she stepped over and pulled Byrn into a close hug, nestling her cheek against the wool of his tunic and offering him an excuse to hold Rissa the same way.
"Thanks," he whispered, kissing her cheek and releasing her so she could melt into the corner and continue folding clothes for Rissa.
Byrn held his arms out to Rissa, who studied him sadly.
"Happy midwinter," she repeated, rushing to bury her face against Byrn's shoulder, breathe his familiar smell, and feel his arms around her one last time.
"I know," he murmured, though she hadn't said aloud I hate this, I'll miss you, at least let's make this our last goodbye, or I want to stop time. "Here." He gathered her close and held her against his chest, tracing one hand over the back of her head.
This is it, she thought, lifting a hand to the tight muscles of his jaw. But neither of them moved for a long moment.
"Enjoy your adventures," he whispered. "I'll envy them." And then he was gone.
Rissa blinked and realized that the room had darkened considerably with the sunset. They'd been standing together that long.
PDPD
Vina gave Rissa a moment to collect herself after Byrn departed. Then she went to kneel beside the pack he'd left behind.
"What did he mean by mostly and most of yours?" she asked.
Rissa shrugged and opened the pack with shaking hands. Inside was the clothing she'd left after her last visit to Briarwood. Almost all of it anyway.
"He stole my scarf," she muttered, fondly irritated. It had been red and he'd liked the way it made her easy to spot in the woods.
And then she noticed that he'd also made a few additions, tucking in a sack of dried cherries, a tin of the almond biscuits she'd enjoyed at Briarwood, and a pair of socks she'd repeatedly borrowed from him during her stay. There was also a note wrapped around a beautifully crafted dagger (which she recognized as some of Jeck's best work).
Rissa,
I hope you'll agree that this is a fair exchange. I thought about sending a necklace, but decided this would generate less gossip and get more use in the long term. (Also, I admit, I don't think I want to give you unnecessary help attracting the interest of other men.) It might also prove very useful in the short term if you want to stab me (see you no longer hold the monopoly on morbidity) though this would probably generate a great deal of gossip, including possible Queenscovian diatribes on poetic irony. So please spare the palace population and my liver, gut, and kidneys (hearts being a lost cause for both of us). Don't bother asking Jeck how much I paid for the dagger, we have a gentleman's agreement and I know he'll keep it. As for Arielle—well, I had to at least try. Take care of yourself out there—I know you're quite capable of doing so—it's just a matter of motivation and application.
Love, (no sense in lying about it)
Byrn
P.S. I hope I have written enough to oblige you to write back.
Rissa snorted softly and tucked the letter into the logbook she was packing.
"Almost ready for supper at Selena's?" Vina murmured. She knew better than to ask about the letter.
"Almost," Rissa agreed, hurriedly scrawling a return message.
Behave yourself—but not too well. Further missives to follow.
Love, thanks, etc.
R
PDPD
Afterwards, Rissa was able to enjoy the midwinter meal in the smithy. It would have been impossible not to.
Karyna surprised Vina at the doorway, which gave Jeck time to squeeze Rissa's elbow and mutter, "it was all his idea."
"I know," she whispered, "but your execution was amazing."
Jeck nodded, shrugged, and stepped back to Selena, wrapping an arm around her shoulders in a way that made Rissa feel suddenly alone. She glanced from Jeck and Selena to Penelope and Dalton (their heads bent together, murmuring and laughing, their eyes on the barely visible swell of Penelope's belly) to Sara and Jason (elbows brushing as they slipped lightly past one another beside the stove) and swallowed hard.
Then Vina lifted her head from Karyna's shoulder and caught her eye, which was meant to make her feel better, but only succeeded in making her feel guilty.
"Um, Karyna, about what I said this morning—"
The Rider waved easily at her, one arm still around Vina. "It's dead fish under the bridge. Don't keep poking at it, just let it wash away before it starts to smell."
Rissa nodded. The others were all too sensible to ask what she'd been apologizing for and Grania and Arielle arrived a few moments later, ending her sense of being the odd one out (even if Arielle wore a rather dreamy expression when she described Sir Keith).
Jason and Sara refused all offers of assistance in the kitchen, but still managed to fill the smithy with delightful smells and produce a veritable feast.
And when they sat down to eat it, Penelope surprised Rissa by toasting her upcoming journey.
Rissa swallowed in gratitude. "And I'd like to propose a toast to your daughter."
"Right," said Dalton, "then I suppose we'd better honor her future godsparents, Vina and Jeck."
The future godsparents blinked at one another in mild alarm as Neal stepped in, waved at Penelope, sized up the situation, and sat down between Sara and Arielle after deciding that they would be most likely to cooperate with his attempts to steal food from their plates.
"Well," Jeck said calmly, "we can't possibly refuse under these circumstances."
"I'm sure that was a factor in Dalton's spontaneous gesture," Neal remarked, "but it's scarcely a valid complaint as there aren't any circumstances under which you would refuse."
Vina nodded. "I supposed we'd better just soldier on then. So, despite his deviousness, I'd like to thank Dalton for giving years of guidance without judgment to his squires."
"And his sisters," Arielle added quietly.
"Who would also like to thank him for early years of entertaining gullibility," Grania put in.
Jeck grinned. "And I would like to toast Jason for years of food, advice, and assistance, and Sara, for showing up to keep him humble."
Sara blushed and Jason bowed. "And I propose a toast to Selena, who finally out-stubborned Jeck."
"At this rate," Neal interjected, "we aren't ever going to eat. Allow me to summarize."
Selena closed her mouth, smiling, and gestured for him to do so.
"To pluck, fortitude, and family." Neal raised his glass. "To the strong and the sweet, the smart and the sensible, and even the cynical among us. To warriors, wagerers, and walking romantic disasters. To new apprentices, old mentors, loyal friends, loving sisters, and faithful hounds." He ran his fingers over Bandit's and Shadow's ears. "There. I think I've covered everyone several times over."
Several minutes passed in silence and a large quantity of food disappeared before Penelope decided she wanted the last word.
"And to occasionally eloquent and not-yet-old philosophers."
Except that it isn't quite the last word, only the end of the final chapter—we still have a massive and fluffy epilogue to come. And Neal will have plenty to add then, though he still might not get the last word…
"Speaking of rules," Neal told them, " your child has a hopelessly muddled understanding of the laws of biological and noble inheritance."
"I know you're not technically my uncle. I could start calling you 'great uncle Neal' if you'd prefer."
In the meantime, another round of thanks to the amazing people who read and review this story, especially the ones who've been regular for years—it wouldn't have happened without your encouragement. Good luck to everyone taking exams this week! And best wishes for whatever holidays you are celebrating this winter!