“No.”
Echo laughed at his flat response. “No? Did you know him?”
“I know of him. I never met him. But Harmon was friendly with Tamas and my father, which is not a recommendation toward honoring him. Even less of a recommendation is that he was cousin to Solegius of Aremond.”
“Solegius? Perhaps that is where the rumors began. If Solegius ever came to visit his cousin, then there was a dark sorcerer in Crolum. Remember how I scoffed when one of the warriors mentioned the rumor?”
“That was Wain who mentioned it.”
“I will have to make it up to him.”
Bane had scoffed at the rumors, too. He shrugged. “As you say, there is always a dark sorcerer to blame. But Solegius was dead before the scourge began.”
“So he was,” she said pensively, and he bent to breathe in the lavender scent clinging to her hair, an inhalation that sent new fire raging through his blood. “What of Harmon’s family? Are there any worth honoring?”
“I don’t know. He had a brother, but I assume he was killed by the scourge with the rest of the royal family.”
“And Harmon’s queen—Marena?”
“I’ve heard that she was a quiet sort of woman. She was a noble in Aremond before her marriage. She probably fled during Solegius’s rule.”
“Into his cousin’s arms? Either she was brave or stupid or had little choice.
“I suspect little choice.”
“Poor woman.” Echo sighed, then fell quiet as they rode beyond the boundaries of the village. The road crested a hill, and Bane drew the company to a halt at the top—looking out over the landscape ahead.
A green plain stretched into the distance, the road leading straight toward a city visible on the horizon.
The royal city. Their new home.
“I rather like this view. Let us rest the horses here for a short time,” he told Jorin, “then we’ll continue on until dark. That will put us at the city gates at midday tomorrow.”
Around them, the warriors began dismounting—yet Bane remained where he was, his arm around Echo’s waist and his gaze fixed on the horizon. Their home. He could not even make out the shape of the castle from this distance and yet…there it was. His future. With Echo.
Emotion swelled through his chest and throat. Perhaps she sensed what he was feeling, because she made no move to join the others, either. Instead she reached back to curl her fingers around his nape. Gently holding onto him as he held onto her.
“Have you been to the royal city before?” she asked softly. “Before the scourge?”
“No. I’ve only been to the northern regions of the kingdom. Did you venture into the castle when you came?”
“Not into it. I only saw the outside.”
“And what did you think of our new home?”
“It appeared a solid construction, built of stone and with adequate towers and defenses. It will be a fine fortress if our families ever decide to take the kingdom back and march their armies upon us.”
A laugh shook through him as he imagined Tamas leading an army into battle. “I do not fear that.”
Another imagining was far more frightening—of Echo, coming into the dead city as quietly as she could and leaving the same way. Not only because of the danger to her…but because she’d done it alone. Because she hadn’t needed anyone.
Would she ever need him?
The emotion swelling in his chest reached the point of agony. He nudged the horse forward, heading toward the copse of trees farther down the hill. Where he could be alone with her. Where he could kiss her.
He needed that desperately.
Never had the big warhorse seemed so slow. Yet they were off the road, and they had to maneuver around small boulders that studded the long grasses. He would not risk Echo or the animal by going faster. And as they ambled toward the trees, frustration and fear ripped the question free. “In Phaira…did you have no one at all to trust? No one to rely on? Ever?”
She shrugged. “I had myself.”
“Not even when young? Were you and Sapphira ever close?”
“Never. Were you and Tamas?”
“If we ever were, I was too young to remember.”
“Were you envious of him as a boy?”
“It wasn’t envy I felt.” And he was more interested in her than in himself. “Is that what you felt toward Sapphira? She was loved one, the good one. Did you envy that?”
“Only until I realized my parents’ love wasn’t worth much—and her goodness wasn’t, either. What did you feel, if not envy?”
“Hate.”
“Truly?” She sounded delighted by that. “Why hate him even as a boy?”
“He lorded over me with our father’s preference for him. And he missed no opportunity to hurt me, knowing I did not dare hurt him back.”
“I wager you dared, anyway.”
His lips curved into a smile against her hair. She knew him well. “I did.”
Her voice darkened. “Were you punished for it?”