The Immortal Heights - Sherry Thomas Page 0,122

same “palace intrigue” that had taken him away from Eton.

Fairfax wrapped an arm around Cooper’s shoulders. “But today we are. All the old friends in the world.”

They gathered up Sutherland, Rogers, St. John, and several other old boys from Mrs. Dawlish’s and sat down to a plentiful picnic. Halfway through the picnic, Birmingham, their old house captain, arrived with, of all people, West, in tow. The young men turned aflutter at the sight of West, who had not only captained the Eton eleven, but had gone on to also captain the Oxford University cricket team. He was now embarking on a career as a physicist and shared a house in Oxford with Birmingham.

West held an animated conversation with Fairfax. Then he, Fairfax, and Titus together spoke for a while. When he left to join a conversation between Sutherland and Birmingham, Fairfax whispered in Titus’s ear that West and Birmingham were “together.”

He whispered back, “Do you think I am blind?”

She laughed, the sound of which was drowned out by an overjoyed squeal from Cooper. “Gentlemen, our friend from the subcontinent has arrived!”

Titus and Fairfax both exclaimed. They had, of course, met Kashkari numerous times in the intervening years—spent months together on campaigns, even. But this was special, to stand with him where it all began.

They ate, laughed, and reminisced. At some point in the afternoon, Titus, Fairfax, and Kashkari bade good-bye to the other friends and vaulted to London for a very long tea. They had much to talk about, as Kashkari was also planning to reveal the truth about his and Amara’s involvement in the Last Great Rebellion.

The day was fading when Titus and Fairfax made their way to the house on Serpentine Hills where his parents used to meet. In the past six years, it had become a refuge for them too, a safe haven where they could shed their responsibilities and simply enjoy each other’s company.

“You know how we always go to the Queen of Seasons’ summer villa?” he asked, collapsing onto a long sofa in the solarium.

“Far be it from me to tire of the most beautiful place in the Crucible,” she teased, sitting down next to him. “But go on.”

He set their clasped hands on top of his copy of the Crucible. “Well, recently I went into the Queen of Seasons’ spring villa and saw something unexpected.”

The spring villa, on a high alpine meadow with riots of pink and mauve wildflowers, was every bit as beautiful as the summer villa. Titus pointed at a pair of travelers walking across the meadow, their faces glowing in the light of a brilliant sunset. “Look at them.”

Fairfax sucked in a breath. “But they are your parents.”

“Yes,” he said softly. “She kept a record of his likeness after all, for me to find someday. And for me to see them happy and together.”

They watched the young couple, their arms around each other, stroll past the villa and disappear beyond a bend in the path.

Then Fairfax took his hand. “I’m ready for whatever the future brings.”

“Me too,” he told her. “Me too.”

NOTES

1. Redhull, Bernard

YD 967–1014. Seer.

Known more for prolificacy than significance. Claimed to have never had a single vision about himself, but always about complete strangers. Sent out batches of letters every month to those who his visions concerned, when he could discover their identity. Best remembered as the one whose vision of a conversation between Lady Callista Tiberius and a friend spurred her to action, to duplicate all the measures enumerated in that foreseen exchange. See Lady Callista Tiberius, Horatio Haywood, Iolanthe Seabourne, Aramia Tiberius, Prince Titus VII.

—From Biographical Dictionary of the Domain

2. THE FOLLOWING is an excerpt from Hancock’s written account:

Two months later I came across one more mention of Pyrrhos Plouton, in a letter by a remote acquaintance, exclaiming how he had not aged a single day in twenty-five years. It would appear that the first feat of sacrificial magic Plouton performed was so powerful it gave him not only unnatural longevity, but also seemingly unfading youth. This might be the reason he moved far away to become Palaemon Zephyrus: to avoid the kind of speculation brought on by his apparent agelessness.

Judging by all the sources I’d collected, both Pyrrhos Plouton and Palaemon Zephyrus—before the latter’s encounter with the “giant serpent,” at least—were fine physical specimens, suffering from no handicaps and missing not even a small toe. Which led me to conclude that Plouton must have powered his first sacrifice with a kidney. Organs are highly valued in

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