30th of Eyrestre

Empty. No matter how rewarding the work at the Interocean Agency was, I always came back to the silence of an empty apartment. Some days that was enough. Some days it was all I could do not to stomp around screaming just in the off chance someone might hear me.

Today the silence was particularly oppressive. Looking at all the stillness, I decided that birthdays by oneself were severely overrated.

No one here knew it was my birthday. There were many, many more important things going on. I hadn't even remembered until I saw the date on the Nimkoru Dailies that morning, and I had been much more interested in the headlines at the time: "War Tribunal Concluded, War Criminals Declared Guilty!"

The only good news had been the list of those acquitted of any crimes committed while under service to the Coventry. There, right at the top, was Arramy's name. Surprisingly, it had been Marrin who pushed to get his criminal status revoked.

With a sigh, I put my work satchel down and tossed the presspaper onto the stack of others decorating my entryway table.

It unfolded where it landed, and I found myself looking at it again while I shrugged out of my jacket. A rollopress picture of NaVarre dominated the front page, showing him standing at a podium, looking handsome and intense, clearly addressing the panel of judges gathered for the Tribunal. Marrin was to his right, tall and reserved. At the bottom there was a separate article about Nox, with a detailed image of his metal face: "Mechanical Man Gives Scathing Testimony, Reveals Ghastly Human Experimentation."

Halfway down the front page of the daily was a sensationalist article entitled "Horrors from the Secret Compound" with sketches of the remains of the Coventry headquarters and several other buildings. The sketches were poorly executed and badly reproduced, but they were clear enough to send a twist of revulsion through my stomach.

I heaved a sigh. At least the weather was fine. In Edon, my birthday had always involved snow. Here in NimK it was well into spring, with pink buds beginning to open on the shrubs in front of my flat.

Gathering my shopping, I went on into the kitchen, leaving the top of the half door open to let in the breeze.

I was putting the kettle on for tea when something made me pause, the sensation of being watched brushing cool fingers down my spine. I knew that feeling, that certainty that someone was observing me, but always, no matter how quickly I turned to look, I found nothing ominous or out of place. Doc had said that response would fade with time, and it wasn't as bad as it had been in the months after the Paradazh, but it still hung around, teasing my senses like the phantom strands of a cobweb. For some reason it had gotten worse, lately.

Maybe it was all the news from the War Tribunals, dredging up things I would rather keep buried.

"It's been six months," I muttered, and took the tea canister down from its shelf. "No one's coming to kill you now..."

The compulsion to look was proving annoyingly insistent, this time. I lowered the tea slowly to the counter, then took a breath. Someday, maybe, I would be able to just relax and have a normal day, and not feel the need to check my shadow.

But I turned anyway.

My heart skipped several painful beats.

Arramy was standing there on the doorstep.

For several moments I stood there, staring at him through the open half-door, unable to think. Unable to breathe. Unable to do more than drink him in. He had shaved recently, and his hair was cut short at the sides in the neat military close-crop he favored. He was simply dressed, wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a dark leather vest over a pair of grey denims. He was also holding a rather large bouquet of yellow roses, and that silver gaze was riveted on me in a way that made my pulse thump painfully against my ribs.

After a moment, Arramy glanced down at the roses, then looked back up at me, the hint of a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "I ah... saw these and thought of you."

The rasp of his brogue finally broke the spell. Or cast a brand new one. My stomach did a giddy little flip in my middle and my knees went soft and shaky.

"You did?" I managed. My voice came out in a broken squeak. I cleared my throat.

"Aye..." He shrugged a little. "I was going ta drop by and leave them as a surprise, but you're ah... you're here."

I swallowed hard, my mouth gone exceedingly dry. "Yes. I got home early." He can see that, you idiot. On the bright side, you didn't sound like a squirrel...

The kettle decided to pipe up then, its steamy whistle rising from the hob next to me. "Tea!" I blurted, bursting into action, reaching with clumsy hands to take the thing off the stove, clattering it onto the table in front of me, unable to stop looking at him even as I kept moving, hurrying to grab a vase — the only vase I owned — from the shelf above the scullery.

He watched me with those unnervingly beautiful eyes, his expression unreadable.

I realized I was standing in the middle of my kitchen holding the vase. "You're still outside," I whispered. Idiot. I put the vase on the table next to the tea kettle, not really noticing if it was upright or not, and offered him a smile that felt a touch daft. "I'm so sorry, I'm being rude. So rude — Please, come in, come in! Would you like tea?" Please stay! Please... please... "I have biscuits around here somewhere," I said, choking out a laugh, my face going hot as I darted over to the cupboard, opening it and peering at my hodgepodge of dry goods, unable to focus on any one thing in there. Biscuits. You have them. Red tin. Just get the biscuits. Jam! Don't forget the jam!

Behind me, the door opened, then shut, and my breath snagged in my throat. I tried not to drop everything as I came around to face him. He was there, tall and strong and rugged and so very, very alive, glancing around at the things in my little sitting room.

I couldn't breathe properly to save my life. There wasn't enough air. Moving quickly, I put the tin of Slithe's Crumbly Biscuits on the table, then the little pot of polberry jam. I had also grabbed the pepper mill for some reason. I put it down anyway, then turned and went up on tiptoe, reaching for my second teacup on the top shelf.

Quiet footsteps sounded. The rustle of leaves and tissue paper at the table, then the faint scent of pine and coconut, the warmth of body heat... I went absolutely still, heart stumbling, as his hand appeared above my head, touching the pink and white teacup without having to strain at all to reach it.

Somehow, I managed to make myself turn, tilting my head back to look up at him.

He was so close, and he was staring down at me with an oddly haunted expression.

"I looked for you." The accusation slipped past my lips before I could stop it, raw and vulnerable, laying itself out there before I was ready.

A muscle feathered in his cheek.

"You didn't say goodbye," I whispered, my words coming out thin and wobbly. "Why didn't you say goodbye?"

He hadn't moved, his right hand still on the cabinet. His gaze roamed my face. "I di'nai wish ta be in your way... and I could'nai bear ta watch ya go," he whispered, his brogue strong and rolling.

I was angry. Why was I angry? I didn't want to be angry, I wanted to wrap my arms around him until I could believe he was right there in front of me. But it hurt just looking at him, as if all the pain of losing him over and over had come boiling up all at once. "But I wasn't going anywhere," I whispered.

Again, that muscle ticked in his jaw. He tilted his head, looking at me askance. "I thought you'd prefer ta be wi' NaVarre."

"Is that what he told you?" I gasped out. "That I preferred him?"

Arramy didn't move, an odd, almost cornered look crossing his face.

Understanding finally started sinking in." And you believed him..." I narrowed my eyes. "I'll have you know that NaVarre has always been and will only ever be a friend." I said, my voice no longer shaking. I drew myself up straight, my chin starting to jut. "When did you start believing everything he said, anyway?"

The intensity of his gaze held me pinned. "He said you were goin' with him ta the hearings," he rasped. "He said it was all prepared. That you'd have everything you ever needed... That he'd see ya safe to his island... And I thought that was what you wanted. What ya planned. Why wouldn't I believe him?"

That did sound like NaVarre, sweeping in to play the well-intentioned but overbearing knight in shining armor. "Yes, well, my plans changed," I said stiffly. Right about when you left. "Which you would have known if you had bothered to ask me. Clearly, I am not with Navarre. And I have been searching every ship, every records office, every inn, every hotel, every place I could think of, trying to find —" my voice broke and I resorted to waving my hand, indicating all of him. "But I don't know why I wasted all that worry and... and effort, because this whole time, this whole time, you were —"

"Working at a smithy in a settlement south of Quoguin," he murmured, regarding me from beneath lowered lashes. Something was different. There was a new, heated intensity in his eyes, a subtle shift in how he stood, his focus entirely on my face. "So you're nai married then," he murmured. "Nai walkin' out wi' anyone."

"No, I'm nai married!" I snapped, face flaming, recalling all those daydreams of being Mrs. Rathe Arramy that had kept me alive in a Paradazh prison cell. It did not help that Arramy was looking at me in a way that was making my heart do peculiar things, and in that moment I was finding it very difficult to think about anything but being Mrs. Rathe Arramy. "Nor am I walking out with anyone because there isn't anyone I want to walk out with at the Agency, and I don't really go anywhere else." You are babbling. Stop babbling. "Not that it's any of your business. At all. Who I walk out with. Or if I walk out with them." I clamped my mouth shut.

A subtle grin played around his lips. "And you were looking for me?"

"Yes," I blurted, a blush working furiously over my face. This was rapidly entering dangerous territory. In exactly one more second, I would be admitting how much he meant to me like some lovesick little girl, begging him not to leave again.

His grin grew to include an irresistible dimple. "Why?"

He was so close I could see the ring of steely blue around his irises, the rays of silver in the pale grey. How was it fair that a man could have such beautiful eyes? "W-why did you come back?" I countered. The answer seemed quite important suddenly.

"I told myself I'd just make sure ye were well," he said. His grin faded. "That's all I needed, ta see you happy, settled... Then I could let ya be. I stopped by the Agency ta find out where you'd gone. I thought they would give me an address in Lodes, since NaVarre is there, but they said ya ne'er left. That you've been working there for months. At the Agency."

I went still, staring up at him, spellbound.

His eyes traveled my features. He lifted one hand and tucked a wayward curl behind my ear, following the movement with his gaze. His touch was feather light, but oh, so dangerous. Even that hint of contact sent a rush of sparks over my skin, the heat only intensifying when he paused, his fingers lingering in my hair, his eyes gone stormy as he slowly traced my jaw with his thumb.

His voice dropped to a deep, rough burr. "I'm such a fool... I've been goin' outa my mind, wondering... if I had just...stayed..."

He was close. Close enough to kiss. The thought smoldered right through me, pooling low in my belly. I couldn't stop my gaze from straying to his mouth. Stern. Unyielding... and so familiar it hurt. I was going to burn up where I stood, all from the wanting of that mouth.

"Brenorra..." He whispered, my name a broken, ragged sound, and it tore something free, that last, stubborn little thread of resistance unraveling.

Before I could think, I raised my hands to his shoulders, went up on tiptoe, and pressed my lips to his.

For a split second he remained motionless, and my heart threatened to fracture into a million humiliated pieces. Always before, kissing him had been a performance. This was real. Achingly, terrifyingly real. I remained there, frozen, unable to reel back time, unsure of what came next, poised in the act of stepping over the line.

A heartbeat. Then... his lashes lowered. His hand shifted to cradle the back of my head, and ever so carefully, he slanted his mouth across mine and kissed me. Once... Twice... Halting, he drew an unsteady breath in the scant space between our lips, his eyes still shut. His muscles were trembling beneath my palms, a tremor running through his arms.

Delirious, I kissed him again, wordlessly offering more.

He made a deep, masculine sound, his mouth capturing mine more firmly. Taking over. Taking control. Again, and again, each kiss longer, more thorough, full of devastating need.

I parted my lips against his, my fingers spearing through his hair.

With a groan, he slid his other arm around my waist, lifting me off my feet, melding me against his long, strong frame. Then, still kissing me, he moved, hefting me higher with one arm and reaching with the other to clear a spot as he sat me down on the counter. He wove his knuckles through the hair at my nape, gently urging my head back, and then he trailed slow kisses along my jaw, his breath feathering over my skin.

With a sudden, muffled curse he drew back to press his forehead to mine, his brow furrowed. "I cannai do this. Living wi'out ya is sheer torture," He rasped. His chest rose and fell quickly, his pulse pounding visibly. "Marry me."

For a moment I simply held him. Then I drew back and looked at him, struck dumb. I couldn't find any words, sure he couldn't have just... proposed... just, right then. For real. All that would come out of my throat was a strained, incredulous, "What?"

He opened his eyes, gazing right into mine. "I am hopelessly in love wi' you, Brenorra Warring. Marry me."

I blinked at him, then licked my suddenly dry lips. "Say it one more time, please," I whispered, staring at that firm, velvety mouth. It wasn't a test. I was genuinely afraid that I was wishing too much and hearing things.

"I love you," he said again, then framed my face in his hands, bending to press a lingering kiss to the corner of my lips. "I have loved you since the moment I first saw you..." He kissed my brow. "Marry me," he murmured, kissing my cheekbone. "Please," he whispered against my other cheek. "Marry me, you beautiful, incredible woman." He kissed my forehead, then pulled back to look at me, his eyes dark.

My tired, broken soul was glowing like a lantern. A crazy-happy grin played over my mouth, turning tremulous and distorted when my chin wobbled. I tried to nod, but then everything began crumbling to pieces and I bowed my head instead, holding back a harsh sob, my hands knotting in the front of his shirt.

He hooked a gentle finger beneath my chin and nudged my head back up, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Was that a yes?"

I hadn't answered. Somehow, I managed a nod. "Yes —" I croaked. "Yes, that was a yes. Yes. Yes —" I broke off, silenced by the sudden slash of his mouth over mine, the fervent heat of his kiss stealing all thought from my brain.

He kissed me until we were both reeling, our breath mingling. Finally, he broke away again. "I don't have much ta offer. I have some money put by, but I have no house, no fine things. Nothing more than my own two hands."

And your steady heart, and your amazing mind... "I think I'll survive," I breathed, bringing him back down to me.

For several more minutes there was nothing but a dizzying battle fought with lips and tongues and greedy hands. Then Arramy tore away with a groan. "Nai... I swore I'd do right by you if I e'er got the chance." He shot a glance at the timekeep above the door, then back to me. "The records bureau is open for another hour. If we go now, we'll be able to file the formalities."

Dazed, I put a hand to my hair and squinted up at him. "Now?"

"Aye," he said, that sun-glorious smile breaking free. "Now." Then he sobered again. "Unless ya want me ta court you a while. I will, if ya want. I'll wait for you as long as ya need."

I made an effort to think about it since he had asked, but there wasn't even an ounce of hesitation. I wasn't going to waste any more time. I wasn't going to learn anything about him that I didn't already know. "No. No courting... Now is fine."

Without another word, he lifted me down off the counter, then strode through the sitting room, stopping at the door while I put my boots back on.

Leaving got a little complicated in the entryway for several minutes, and I was fairly sure the clerk in the Records Bureau thought we were a bit crazy with all the smiling, but we made it, and came away with our names on a new set of Standings Papers and a shiny new Marriage record.

Rathe and Brenorra Arramy.

Status: Married.

Occupation: blacksmith/man of all trades and typist/translator, respectively.

Standing: Laborer  

Address: Undeclared 

~~~

And that is where I will end this record. Mostly because I've run out of pages in this journal, but also because I want to close this particular road, set it down, and start another one afresh.

We are currently in the process of moving to the island of Tiare – one of the many small bits and pieces that form the Illyrian Isles – and I discovered this thing among all my belongings in the attic. 

There have been a few developments since I last put this journal away. Kenoa and Rathe are setting up a smithy and repair business in a small village on the coast, thanks in no small part to the Illyrian people's love for my husband. 

We went to Aethscaul only once after we married, where we adopted Xavi, the little boy Arramy rescued during the attack on the Stryka. 

And yes, we have a dog. 

But the rest... oh, the rest is another adventure for another time. 

~~~

AN: 

*Runs through the room waving noodle arms* 

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

IT's DONE! It's really DONE! I cannot believe it, it's DONE! After only five years of slaving away...

WHAT??? 

*flutters around* I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I still can't quite believe I'm hitting the complete button after I post this. Incidentally, I have an epilogue in mind, but... I have to save something for the Official, Edited Version that will go up on Amazon, so you won't find it here. 

ANN

These last few chapters were HAR-DUH. It was all my fault. I wrote it, then had to rewrite it, and rearrange it, and rethink it, and ponder on it, and let it sit for a minute, and then put it back together again... If my writing process were a surgical procedure, I'd be Dr. Frankenstein... stick the electrodes in a lifeless chunk of manuscript, yank on a lever, stumble around emitting maniacal laughter, then wail in surprise, "It's aliiiiive!" before it gets up off the table, eats a few villagers and sets the house on fire...  

Anyway. Thank you so much for reading. You are among my favorite people on earth.