Could Roald have cut off his hand and thrown it in Demon's Hill?

Hmm…I suppose he could have…*frowns*. A gruesome process however.

So you've already written the epilogue? Which means you've been waiting to post to build up suspense? That's so cruel!

Err….yes. I am cruel. *evil laugh*

What's going to happen now?

You'll just have to read this chapter to find out.

A.N.: Okay, I'm going to refresh people's memories. RYKER: Kaprice's past lover from her time in the desert; ATHAIR: Ryker's over-controlling and abusive father; MINDY: young woman who wants Ryker and threatens Kaprice; LONNA: another young woman, used to be a friend of Mindy's; COWELL: dead young man, Mindy's older brother who died by Kaprice's hand; GHRIS: also dead, Lonna's older brother who died by Cowell's hand.

I think that's it.

28. Kaprice's Tears

Kaprice

Kaprice was in the foggy mist again. And although she couldn't see any of the gods, she knew they were there.

She waited for them to speak first.

"Well, daughter?"

"Well, what?" she said back.

"What happens now?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

Silence followed Kaprice's retort.

And Kaprice realized how petty she sounded. Like a grudge-holding, ignorant child.

And she wasn't. Not after all that she had gone through.

This is it, Kaprice, she told herself. It's all over. The job the gods had given you is finished.

It had not been without a cost, but she had struggled with the Devastation and won.

But couldn't there have been another way?

"No, daughter. There wasn't."

Kaprice narrowed her eyes and stared at the Goddess who now chose to step out of the shadows.

"Think, Kaprice. Once you had reversed the Devastation, where could he have gone?"

"He could have come back into the future with me."

"But with the destruction of the Demon's Hill and the ring's power, he was no longer immortal. He would have lived out his life in Tortall and then died. He would not have lived long enough to meet you. There is no future for him to return."

"But couldn't have done something? Couldn't you bend the rules just a bit?"

The Goddess shook her head.

No. No, of course not.

"Roald knew all of this. He understood what would happen once the Devastation was reversed. And that's why he acted as he did."

"No, Roald didn't--"

Kaprice stopped mid-sentence.

"Kaprice…you know I love you. Right?"

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

"Just wanted to make sure…"

Kaprice's eyes widened and she recounted part of their last conversation.

Oh gods…he did know. He knew what would happen to him once the Devastation came to an end.

He knew that they could never be together. And so he had jumped.

And somehow, realizing this only made the pain in her heart increase.

Well, then. What happens now?

"Tortall will be as it was, the future that you know will be gone. Everyone will be reborn as new people, in new places."

"Will I remember anything that has just happened?" she asked haltingly.

The Goddess shook her head. "No. But you will have the opportunity to start over. Begin anew."

Begin anew. Not remember anything.

For a moment, she wanted to scream. She wanted to curse and shout.

I could leave here like a foolish child throwing a tantrum. Or I could acquiesce understandingly and accept my fate.

Which way will I choose to walk away?

She then remembered Roald. His blue eyes, dark with pain and sadness. But his form, straight and tall. And filled with resolute determination before leaning into the pit of Demon's Hill.

She gazed piercingly at the mirror image of herself, at the Goddess.

And then she lowered into a curtsy.

"I'm ready. Reclaim your power from me and return me to my time."

~*~*~*~

Lonna

The shaman's words were interrupted when there was a sudden burst blindingly silver light.

Several tribesmen let out a startled cry while others were too shocked to utter even a sound.

It took awhile for Lonna's vision to become clear again, but when it was, she wasn't sure if what she was seeing was real.

A hooded figure suddenly stood several feet away from her, next to the platform she stood on. And the figure held a small blue flower in her hand.

Ryker, who stood beside Lonna, let out a strangled gasp. "Kaprice?"

The figure raised her head, and Lonna was able to see that it was indeed Kaprice.

Kaprice seemed a bit disoriented and unsettled at first, but then she took a steady glance around herself, and the confusion left her face.

Kaprice amusedly surveyed the tribes people's shocked faces. "I hope I haven't interrupted anything important," she said mockingly.

"How did you do that?" someone asked with a tone of obvious awe.

"That?" Kaprice said derisively. "That was nothing."

Chieftain Athair stood up from his seat and put a hand on the hilt of his sword, which hung at his side. "Witch, stay away from my son."

Kaprice lowered her hood as she stared at the Black Hawks chief. "I have not come here for your son, Chief Athair."

"Oh? Then why have you come here, murderer? You would dare to disrupt my son's wedding--"

"I am no murderer--" Kaprice suddenly stopped. She blinked and shook her head; Lonna saw her silently mouthing the word "murderer" to herself.

"Be assured, Athair, I have not come here to steal your son from you," Kaprice said abruptly. "I apologize for interrupting his wedding."

Kaprice turned then, and stared piercingly at Lonna. Lonna felt herself flush under Kaprice's scrutiny. She had felt so proud of herself moments earlier, with her delicate silk robe with golden embroidery, her hair pinned up and brushed to a shine. Even Mindy's acidic glare had failed to daunt her. But with Kaprice here, staring at her like that…

Kaprice's stare then moved on to Lonna's arm, which rested in the crook of Ryker's elbow. And then the stare lifted to Ryker, who cut a fine figure in his own wedding attire.

For a moment, Lonna thought that Ryker would pull away from her and rush to Kaprice's side, leaving her alone on the platform with the shaman.

But Ryker stood straight and proud and easily returned Kaprice's stare.

And then Kaprice turned to stare at Lonna again, and to Lonna's utter surprise, Kaprice smiled.

"My best wishes to the newly joined couple," Kaprice said gently, bending into an elegant bow.

"Stay away from my son--" Athair started to snarl.

"Get her!" A wail pierced the atmosphere. "She killed my brother! She murdered him and then ran away!" Mindy started to sob.

But nobody moved toward Kaprice. No one except Athair, who had his sword drawn by now.

Kaprice crossed her arms over her chest and lifted an eyebrow.

"What will you do now, Athair? Will you kill me for defending myself against the young man that you set upon me?"

Athair faltered before stepping toward her again. "You have used your evil powers to bewitch my son. And then you seduced and killed Cowell and Ghris, two young men from your own tribe. You do not deserve to live."

Kaprice didn't move from her spot; she just continued to stare at Athair scornfully.

Lonna felt Ryker tense beside her. But he did not move in any other way.

Athair halted a few feet from Kaprice. His sword hesitated in front of him.

"Oh, come on, Athair. Now that you have the chance to kill me, you won't?"

She's doing it on purpose. She's deliberately taunting the chieftain.

Ryker suddenly turned his head to glance at Lonna, and she knew that he had reached the same conclusion. And in his soft hazel eyes, she saw the question that he would never voice aloud.

They had become surprisingly close over the last week or so. She had found him stumbling blindly in the desert and nursed him back to health. He had not talked about what he had seen out in the desert, and she had not bothered to ask. They had come to a quiet understanding: nobody mentioned Kaprice, nobody mentioned the past.

She had been pleasantly surprised when he had asked her to marry him. Too surprised to object.

But she knew that he did not love her. Not like he had loved Kaprice. He loved Lonna as he would a sister or a good friend. And although she wouldn't have minded if the relationship had grown to be more, it remained as it was. And she wasn't going to push for more.

Poor Ghris, she thought wistfully. Ghris had always been kind and decent to her. He had been silent and withdrawn only when he had been around Cowell. But although she still missed her older brother, she did not blame Kaprice for his death. If only Ghris had been friends with Ryker instead of Cowell. Then he wouldn't have ended up as he did…

"Go to her," she suddenly said to Ryker. "Go to her," she said, giving him her permission and answer to his unspoken question.

Ryker gave her hand a gentle squeeze before stepping away and leaping off the platform.

"Father, don't--"
"Stay away from her, Ryker!"

What happened next, Lonna would never know. But what happened as a result of it was too clear.

Ryker fell to the sand, blood spreading over his delicate clothing.

Athair, eyes wide with shock, stepped back and dropped his bloody sword.

"Ryker!" Lonna hurried off the platform to kneel by Kaprice, who was examining Ryker and his wound.

"You foolish, foolish man! Look at what your blind hate has done! Are you happy now? Are you happy that you've nearly killed your son!"

Athair was too stunned to be angry and insulted by Lonna's brash words.

"Why are you always so horrible to Kaprice? She has done nothing to you! Nothing!" Lonna's last sentence was not just for Athair, but for the rest of the tribes.

"What can't you just--"

Kaprice gently placed a restraining hand on Lonna's shoulder.

"It'll be all right."

"All right?" Lonna repeated, aghast. "Ryker is--"

"It doesn't matter," Kaprice said. "Come nightfall, none of this will matter."

The way Kaprice spoke made Lonna hesitate. "What do you mean?"
Kaprice turned to gaze at the setting sun. "Once the sun has set, none of this will exist. The desert will disappear. There will be no desert tribes." Kaprice turned to gaze at Lonna. "Come nightfall, the Devastation will never have occurred. All will be as it should have been."

Kaprice's gaze fell tenderly to Ryker's form. "You have been good to him during my absence. Thank you for that. Thank you for taking care of him while I was gone."

"It was nothing," Lonna said hollowly.

Kaprice knelt beside Ryker again. She gently placed her blue flower over his chest. Then she lowered her head and closed her eyes.

What is she doing?

She's waiting, Lonna realized. She's waiting for nightfall.

Lonna slowly knelt beside Kaprice and joined her in her vigil.

~*~*~*~

About two weeks after Kaprice's departure from the palace at Corus

Roald's eyes flew open and with a sudden burst of energy that one usually did not have while half-asleep, sat up in his bed.

It took him several blinks and breaths to get oriented.

That damn dream again.

Roald sighed and rested his head in his hands.

He had woken at least once every night for the two weeks past. His sleeping was disturbed; he could hardly drag himself out of bed in the morning. His concentration was utterly wrecked; he would find himself nodding off during the day.

And he couldn't even remember one aspect of the dratted dream that was causing him so much trouble.

But he did know one thing. All right, so he didn't know, not for sure. But he had his hunch.

His dream involved that girl he had seen half a month ago.

"Your highness, Prince Roald, my name is Kaprice."

She had spoken as if she had known him, which was odd since he had never seen her before.

And her eyes, so strikingly green, had held such great sadness in them that he had instinctively started to reach out towards her.

Until she had disappeared.

He had tried to talk to the others about her. None of those conversations had been very productive. And yesterday, when Kel had finally gotten tired of his asking, what had she said?

"She's …a foreign visitor."

"And I'm a scullery maid," he had scoffed. "She disappeared in a flare of silver light. No mortal has silver magic. Who is she, and why won't anyone tell me who she is?"

Kel had given him an odd look then, one that somehow mixed sadness with irritation. "The answer you look for will not be to your liking. Now forget about her; you will never be seeing her again. None of us will. Just let it be."

Just let it be.

But how could he, when these dreams woke him every night?

And why can't I remember a damn thing that occurs in these dreams?

The dreams plagued him horribly, for when he woke up from them, he always woke up with immense feelings of desperation, pain, and melancholy.

It involves that girl. But why do I always feel so upset when I wake from the dreams? I've never seen her before…how could she have such an affect on me, whether it's in the dreams or not?

Who is she?

"Roald?"

Roald jumped.

"The dreams again?" Shinko asked him softly, sitting up on their bed.

"Yes," he sighed in reply.

"Do you remember anything from them this time?"

"No," he shook his head. He gave a growl of frustration. "I just don't understand it. Why can't I ever remember any of the dreams?"

Shinko squeezed his hand supportively. "Speak with Numair. Maybe he'll know how to make the dreams go away."

"No, not until I figure it out--"

"You've already asked the others about the girl. They will not answer your questions."

"I'll just keep asking--"

"Roald, you've practically driven them mad with your questions. They've got work to do, you can't continue disrupting them like this. And you can't keep disrupting yourself either."

Roald silently mulled over his wife's words before giving in. "All right. I'll speak with Numair, and find out if he knows how to make the dreams stop."
"Good." Shinko leaned over to give him a kiss. "Try to get some sleep," she said as she laid back down.

He nodded. "I will."

But he sat still for a long moment, just brooding. He found his gaze wandering around the room to stop at the stand beside his side of the bed.

Where a vase containing blue flowers glinted in the moonlight that peeked through the window.

"Where do the flowers come from? How did they so suddenly come to our courtyard?"

"They came as a gift," Thorn had said.

"A gift? From who?"

Neither Thorn nor Evin had moved to answer his question.

"Well, what are the flowers called?"

"They are called," Thorn had said haltingly, raising her eyes to stare penetratingly at Roald, "Kaprice's Tears."

Kaprice's Tears. Kaprice. That girl again.

Shaking his head, he leaned toward the vase and breathed in the flowers' distinct perfume. There was something about the scent that pricked him as oddly familiar, but he was too tired to ponder about it.

I'll talk to Numair. He'll know how to make the dratted dreams go away…

Roald lovingly settled back into the bed beside his wife and fell asleep.

A.N.: And that, my dear readers, is why this fic is called "Kaprice's Tears". Makes more sense now that you've read this, doesn't it?

Two more chapters left!

~krizsta