Epilogue: The Stablehand's Elegy
Her amber eyes pierced through me, silver hair gently waving in the morning breeze. Beauty was an insult to her appearance. This woman was a goddess, and I knew it the moment she handed me the note.
"You understand, now, that you are to give her this note," the woman said with a smile, "if she asks questions, then feel free to answer. She won't though. When she wastes her time standing here, remind her that she's in a hurry."
I nodded. Though I still hadn't sorted probably the most important detail of the plan.
"Apologies if I'm a bit slow on the uptake, ma'am," I giggled lightly, "but how will I know she's the woman you're talking about? And what if she doesn't show."
Her full body moved with the exasperated sigh she released. "You are as bad as she is," the woman groaned, "she'll be here. I know you have no reason to trust this, but she will arrive far too quickly for you to be wasting my time. As far as recognising her, she'll be the one with sapphire hair and armour. Probably too hysterical to pay attention to where she's going."
My ears perked at the description. Ma had told me stories of women with sapphire hair. Protectors. Da had said Ma was descended from them, but I had always dismissed them as faerie stories and wishful thinking.
"Right. Got it," I smiled brightly, "I'll get those horses to work, even if it is too early. When she gets here, I'll give her the note. Easy enough."
"Good," she grumbled. "Thank you."
"Best of luck, my Lady," I called as she walked away.
Time was all I had as I waited for the ruffian she'd told me to expect. The Sisters didn't have any special work for the sun, and Briar was busy with the Daughters of Thorn. All I had was to rent out supplies, manage the horses, and wait for a woman with brilliant sapphire hair.
Easy.
I saw her coming from a few blocks away, bursting out the door of the Sixth Maiden, and turning her head about like she was making a choice. Just as the silver-haired woman had said, the woman with sapphire hair ran my way.
Except she wasn't looking, not watching her steps. She reminded me of someone close to me. My heart ached as I remembered home. Family. Love.
And then she collided with me at full speed. If she weren't a tiny little thing, I might not have managed to stay upright. Our hands shifted about for a second as I worked the note into her grasp.
I watched her mouth form the words as she read the note. It was adorable. That familiarity deepened as I took in all her features. I couldn't stop my giggle bubbling to the surface. "Can you not read, Lady Thornleaf?" Why had I used that name?
"Jasmin says to leave you with these two blades," she said with confusion. "Was there anything else?"
"Just that you would spend far too long standing here, and you needed to hurry." My giggling made her blush.
After the sabres were in my care, the sapphire-haired woman bolted back the way she came. She truly seemed to understand what was going on in a way I only wished I could.
"You know," I said to no one in particular, "if not for those eyes and that hair, she could be my kin."
Time, as I said, was in low demand that sun. It was peaceful, really. At least until a short while past lunch. The murmur of the crowd rolled like a wave through the streets, and people began the intentioned march toward the centre of town. The Violet Cathedral.
I paid it no mind. The Sisters and Daughters were planning something huge, so saving my energy was in my best interests. Who was I to care that some big to-do was happening in the fell-queen's palace.
The sun glinted off the pommels and hilts of the two blades the waif had left with me. Sapphires and emeralds set in silver. Sabres of apparent importance. They were familiar in their warmth.
I unsheathed the one with sapphires and turned it over in my hand. Beautiful craft, love and care in every detail. As I moved it through unfamiliar paces, it felt like home, fitting my grip like Ma's old dagger. As I sheathed it, I spotted something peculiar. Carved into the hilt just out of view from outside was an inscription in scratches and gouges.
Afina Thornleaf
Lady of Blue Stone
I had a look at the other – the one with emeralds – and confirmed a similar inscription.
Mrs. Thornleaf
Wife of Afina
A laugh fought to the surface as I admired the weapons. It was always strange to me when women remade themselves in the image of their spouse. But something told me this pair were special.
"Thornleaf." I mused. "That was the name I called her. Why?"
Something tickled at the back of my mind. "Ma. She was from Blue Stone."
My thoughts were torn from the memories by a quake that shook all of Violet's Repose. The crowd that had been slowly milling toward the Cathedral was quickly retreating from it.
A part of me wanted to follow, but more than that, I needed to know.
Strapping the blades to my belt the same way as the waif had worn them hours before, I began my slow push against the crowd and toward the fell-queen's palace.
The swords bashed into person after person as I fought the flow. Some even thought to attack in response, but when they saw my determination, they backed down, and I continued my efforts.
Hundreds or thousands rushed past, I couldn't say for sure. Something was wrong at the Violet Cathedral, and for whatever reason, I had to face it head-on.
I watched as the tallest spire collapsed on itself.
The sight redoubled my efforts as much as it increased the roar of the crowd running the other way. Secondary quakes were worse than the primary, causing rubble to fall.
My progress, though sluggish, was rewarded at last when I escaped the running throng and walked quiet streets toward the palace. When the second and third spires fell, I extended my stride into a run.
By the time I arrived at the central courtyard, the entirety of the Violet Cathedral had been reduced to rubble, silverthorn vines snaking through the rubble as a woman engulfed in emerald flames walked away from the destruction.
Everywhere the woman stepped, a new vine sprouted. She wasn't watching the spectacle but focused intently on a figure she carried in her powerful arms.
It was her. It was them. The goddess was carrying the waif away from everything. Her eyes were different. Fierce emerald instead of piercing amber.
She almost didn't notice me standing in her path. When she did, I finally had a moment to look at the lifeless woman in her arms. Silverthorn poison was working its way up her arm, blood was staining the previously beautiful armour she wore. With her face set in a peaceful final rest, I at last knew her.
"My sister," I said, fighting the weight in my throat, "Roisin."
Her lips were parted in the smile I loved. I clung to hope for a punchline that never came.