Page 293 of Mother of Death and Dawn

My eyes stung so much that I didn’t even trust myself to say anything more after that. I barely spoke as I helped him load his meager belongings onto the ship. I stood on the docks as the boat pulled away, his shock of golden hair a beacon beneath the midday sun.

It had all been because of him. Every moment in this life, every freedom we earned, every happiness that I found. It was all because of him and that single sacrifice that he made for me.

At the last moment, I ran suddenly to the end of the dock—so fast I nearly sent myself toppling over the edge.

“I love you!” I shouted.

I would wonder if he heard me, or if my words were lost in the wind and the lapping of the sea. I would wonder countless times if my friend—mybrother—knew everything that he meant to me.

A heartbeat, and then two.

And then I saw that distant figure bring his hands cupped to his face. And so faintly I could barely hear it, there was the returning echo:

I love you.

* * *

Home.

We were so busy for so long that the word couldn’t even cross our minds. But soon, Max and I were the only ones who remained at the Palace. And soon, with the senate established, with Sesri on her way back, with the clean-up complete and the Fey peace treaties signed, the word began to slip over our tongues again.

Home.

It smelled like him—like ashes and lilac. The cottage was now little more than a pile of rock and ash, barely recognizable as something that had once been a house. But I had learned long ago that it was not the stone that made something a home. Whatever made this one ours still remained, even if the building was gone.

The garden had flourished, even in Max’s absence. The flowers reclaimed every inch of the earth, covering the walkways and even winding over the burnt beams and fallen stone.

I assumed Max would be appalled, but I thought it was beautiful.

“No,” Max said, when I told him so. “I think it’s beautiful, too.”

We walked the boundaries of the grounds, hand in hand. There was the stoop where I had sat outside and refused to leave that first night. There was the clearing where he had taught me how to use Stratagrams. There was the path to the river where we swam together on warm days.

Max paused at what had once been the entrance of the cottage.

“It’s notthatbad,” he said, after a long moment.

It was indeed that bad.

“I don’t see a wreck. I see…” I spread my arms out. “Opportunity.”

Max wound his arms around my waist, and my outstretched hands fell to his shoulders. His eyes, despite their darker hue, sparkled.

“I like your new eyes,” I said. “Have I told you that?”

“They’re my old eyes, actually.”

“I like them anyway.”

He smiled, and I wondered if it would ever stop being the most magnificent sight I had ever seen.

“I will still address you by the same title, mysterious snake man.”

He snorted. “It no longer fits.”

“It will always fit.”

“If you say so, demanding rot goddess.”

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