Page 291 of Mother of Death and Dawn

“Hm,” he said, in that tone that said he didn’t believe me.

I shifted awkwardly.

“If you’re going to confess your unrequited love for me, Max, just hurry up and do it.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re a married man. That would not be appropriate.”

I barked a laugh.

Finally, at Sammerin’s pointed silence, I let out a long breath. “I would not have survived without you, Sammerin,” I said, at last. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually told you that. Poor social graces, and everything.”

He sighed and shook his head. “We don’t have to do this.”

“I’m not doing anything. I’m just…” I shrugged. “I’m just saying thank you. For everything.”

A momentary softness passed over his face, before he waved me away.

“Stop using me as an excuse to avoid your considerable responsibilities,” he said. “I have work to do.”

“Fine, fine. Enjoy your… cot dust.”

As I began to leave, he sat down on a garden chair, crossing his ankles over the seat of another.

I scoffed over my shoulder. “I thought you said you had work to do?”

“I do. In ten minutes. Or until however long it takes Moth to accidentally destroy something.” He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “We have to take what we can get.”

I rolled my eyes, gave him a wave, and turned away. But halfway down the street I paused and glanced back, just for a moment. I watched my friend, lounging in the sun in front of the practice that he had dreamed about for so long, in utter contentment.

I smiled and continued walking.

Sometimes it’s nice to see good people live a good life. And Sammerin, I knew—better than anyone else—deserved the very best of good things.

* * *

Willa seemedannoyed to see me. She was aflutter in that way she often was, like she had too many things to do and didn’t have the faintest idea where to start. The disbandment of the Orders had left her in an administrative nightmare.

“Is there something I can, ah, help you with, dear?” she asked me, giving me a slightly frazzled smile. Her hair was coming half-undone, her glasses crooked.

“Nothing in particular. I was just thinking…” I slumped into the chair across her desk, resting my heel on the corner of the mahogany wood. “You ran the education program of the Orders.”

She blinked at me, mildly irritated. “You know that I did, Max.”

“Right. And you had been doing that for… a long time?” I gave her a weak smile. “I was a bit out of touch for awhile there, as you know.”

“Oh, well, I don’t know. It must have been… well, nearly ten years. I took it up shortly after the Ryvenai War ended.”

“So would you say you know a lot about the topic?”

Willa was now openly irritated. “I wouldn’t gosofar, but— well, yes. I know a lot about it. Is there a reason you’re asking me this, Maxantarius? I really do have a lot to do.”

I didn’t know why I was nervous.

I hadn’t been able to get the idea out of my head since Brayan’s letter.

I now was technically Lord Farlione, a title I couldn’t give less of a shit about. And the house—the house that had haunted my nightmares for so long—was now in my possession, taken out of the care of my miserable aunt.

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