The Rise of Magicks - Nora Roberts Page 0,105

out, Duncan and Travis to the barracks, Will and Arlys back to New Hope, and Meda to prepare for the next journey.

Fallon poured Mallick more tea, moved to sit beside him. “Three words to describe Vivienne.”

“Vain, ambitious, loyal.”

“I can work with all of those.”

“I’ll add she envies you.”

“Me?”

“Your power and position. With the envy is genuine admiration, and a little fear.”

“I can work with those, too. Is there any reason to think, if we help her secure Quebec, establish herself as head of that state, she’ll want more?”

Pleased she thought beyond the battle, he picked up the tea. “I think not. Quebec is personally important for and to her. More would require more work. I believe she’ll be a staunch ally. She sent you a gift.”

Rising, he walked to the bag he’d brought in, took out a small pouch. Intrigued, Fallon opened it.

The moonstone pendant glowed white. Carved on it, as if as one, three figures blended. The owl, the wolf, the alicorn.

“It’s beautiful.” The stone was set in silver, the words inscribed on its back read: WISDOM, COURAGE, LOYALTY. THE SPIRITS OF THE ONE. “And, like Arlys said, gracious. I’ve never seen work this fine outside of the vault we found in D.C.”

“Her craftsmen do more than make the practical. She has jewelers, silver- and goldsmiths, those skilled in working with silks, velvets, furs. Quebec will be a monarchy under her. I believe she’ll rule well.”

Because it touched her, Fallon hooked the pendant onto the chain with Max’s wedding ring, Simon’s St. Michael’s medal. Rubbing her fingers over the faces, she spoke casually. “She didn’t tempt you?”

“She’s too fancy for me,” he said, clearly amused. “And not my type. What do you need to ask of me?”

She looked at him then. “I wanted to give you time at your cottage, but instead I’m asking you to stay in New Hope, to help Duncan season some of the recruits. I’m sorry to—”

He waved her off before she finished. “Fifteen centuries I’ve waited to fulfill my duties. This is what I’m made for.” In a rare show of affection, he closed a hand over hers. “I answer the call of The One.”

“You could have Colin’s room while you’re here.”

“Now, that does tempt me. But I’d do better with the seasoning if I stayed at the barracks. Perhaps I’ll be invited to a meal when your mother returns.”

“I’ll make sure of it. In the meantime, I can tell you they eat well at the barracks. We’ve seen to that.”

“Then I’ll join Duncan and Travis, and get a meal. A safe journey west.” He rose, retrieved his bag, then looked back at her. “You’ve done well, girl.”

“High praise from the old man.”

Alone, she sat a moment longer. Not just battle plans now, not only training, readying troops. Now alliances, politics, diplomats, borders. Now visions for the tomorrows must come through the smoke. She had no desire to be a queen, to rule over the re-forming world. But if she took up the sword to lead that world to war, she needed to know the ways to embrace the peace, and hold it.

Once, she’d drawn back the curtain to show Colin the blood and battle, the worst the dark demanded. She held the hope that one day, she’d draw it back to peace, to unity, to all the light offered.

But for now she rose to prepare for the journey, for her quest to find more souls to lead to war.

* * *

While Fallon packed provisions, Lana sat in the pristine living room of Tereza Aldi, Lucy’s grandmother. A handsome woman, her stone-gray hair coiled in a braided bun at her nape, she sat stiffly in a chair.

She offered no refreshment.

A wood-burning stove, obviously scavenged and added after the Doom, squatted in the corner and sent out some stingy heat.

Still, the chill in the room came as much from the woman as the winter.

“I appreciate you seeing me, Mrs. Aldi.”

“I’ve told you we have nothing to say to each other, but you’re persistent.”

“Women raising children in this world have to be. I’d hoped you had some message you’d like me to take to Lucy.”

“She made her choice.”

“She told my daughter you once hid a magickal from Purity Warriors.”

“We’re not heathens.” She lifted a hand to the cross she wore around her neck. “Or fanatics, like that godless cult.”

“It was an act of kindness, of humanity, that involved considerable risk.”

“They would have killed the boy—one no more than ten. We don’t wish your deaths, Mrs. Swift.

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