Page 60 of Song of the Dawn
“He’s upstairs, still sleeping, according to Moses. Sit, eat before you go up and see him.” Aveline pulled out a chair.
I hesitated, wavering between running to his side and sitting down with my family, but the scent of peppermint tea and the warmth of breakfast made my stomach growl. I sat, for there was nothing I could do for Ezra while I waited for him to wake up. “How are you here?”
“We got a letter,” Mother said, reaching over to squeeze my hand. There were a few more wrinkles on her face, and a cane was by her side, but her foot was unbandaged, promising that she was healing.
“More like a telegram,” Aveline interrupted.
Mother nodded. “Yes, from someone named Ginger. She said you were in trouble and would need our help.”
I raised my eyebrows. Ginger? “When was this sent?”
“Almost two weeks ago,” Aveline explained. “We wanted to set off right away, but there were some issues to be settled that took a few days. Between Mother and Luc, we moved slowly and couldn’t sit in a stagecoach all day for seven days. We arrived yesterday morning, but no one was here. It was the oddest thing, and then that woman, Giselle is her name? She came to welcome us. She’s lovely.”
“She is,” I said, blinking back tears. I’d thought Ginger didn’t like me, and yet the moment I’d decided to stay, she’d sent an urgent message to my family. How could she have known how everything would transpire?
“Mila, what happened?” Mother asked. “Giselle told us something was happening at the inn and they had to close until spring. Is that true?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “It’s true, but everything is okay. Everything is fine now. The inn can reopen. We’re going to be okay. One day, maybe, I’ll tell you the entire story.” I thought of the letter I’d written, unsent in my bedroom. “How long can you stay?”
“Stay?” Aveline laughed. “As long as you want us to. We weren’t sure if you needed to leave or if we should stay through the winter. We’ve winterized the estate, and we’re here, as long as you need us. Besides, I’m pregnant again, and I’d like to stay put for a while.”
Incredulous, I stared from Aveline to Mother. “Is that true?”
Mother beamed.
I hugged her, squeezing tight, then Aveline. “This, this is too good to be true.”
“This all has to do with that man, doesn’t it?” Aveline gave me a knowing look. “Ezra, the owner of the inn?”
My face warmed like a schoolgirl talking about her first crush. “Yes. I…we…I love him, and he was in trouble, and…I couldn’t forsake him.”
“You fought for love.” Aveline’s voice dropped in wonder. “I’m so proud.”
“You told me to.” I squeezed her hand.
“Go.” Mother waved her hand. “See your man. We will be right here, making ourselves cozy. I’ll have to speak to the cook. I’ve never tasted food so delicious.”
“I’ll be back,” I promised.
Aveline shook her head, but she was smiling.
My heart was full as I made my way upstairs. Using the lift, Moses and Marley had moved Ezra up to his chambers in his office. Upstairs, nothing had changed, and yet everything was different. The paintings shone brighter, and the light was vivid, radiant, yet peaceful. The scent of parchment wafted out of the library, and someone had taken the time to build a fire, warming the floor. When I peeked in, I was surprised to see Tomas, reading out loud with Luc on his knee, staring at his father in fascination. That, I thought, was how legends were passed down, from parent to child, from one to another.
The door was closed, and I opened it. Moses padded out of the room, and it occurred to me I’d never seen him outside of the kitchen. He winked. “Still sleeping, but I brought up a tray, just in case he wakes up. I’ll leave him in your hands, but ring the bell if you need anything.”
“Thank you, and he…will he be okay?”
“Just bruises and mending bones. He’ll be fine.” Moses paused at the door before shutting it. “I’ve looked after him ever since he became a squire. Hard to believe you faced down the sorceress, but you did a good deed.”
So Moses was from the other side too. Suddenly it was all too much, and a weariness came over me. I crept into the darkened room where Ezra slept, my sun god, oblivious to his allure. My heart ached just staring at him, and I sank into a chair that Moses must have dragged in. Pulling it closer, I ran my fingers over Ezra’s arm, feeling his pulse. Tears came to my eyes, and this time, when I put my head down, I wept for joy.
Mila
At some point, I must have fallen asleep, and I wasn’t sure what woke me. A slight movement or the stillness after so much chaos. When I opened my eyes, Ezra’s forest-green ones, rimmed with exhaustion, peered back at me. There was a clarity in his gaze, a newness. His fingers curled around mine, and when he smiled, it was like the glimmer of dawn after a long, dark night. My lips trembled, and I blinked hard, determined not to cry again, not anymore.
“Mila,” he said, his voice low and hoarse.
“Ezra?” Impatiently brushing at tears, I passed him a glass of water. “Here, you must be thirsty.”
