Cold Hands, Warm Heart

EPILOGUE

"You know, I quite like this idea," Gwyneira mused, looking out the carriage window.

"Thank you, Gwyneira," I said. "I thought the citizens of Sylvaine would appreciate a little something to give them excitement."

It had been ten years since my wife took the throne, and we threw a ball in her honor. But, instead of it being back in Eira, we decided to hold it in the capital of Sylvaine—Caelina—in the Town Hall. We opened the ballroom doors to every citizen of Sylvaine.

"Mom," Arnaud spoke. I turned to look at him. I go by 'mom' whereas Gwyneira goes by 'mother.'

"Yes?"

"How much longer?"

I smiled, facing the window. Oak trees surrounded us, so I knew there was no doubt about us being in Sylvaine. I studied the sun's position. "Well, we have been riding for about four hours, so I say we will get there in an hour."

Arnaud slumped back in his seat before Gwyneira prodded him to sit up straight. The almost ten-year-old gave a small eye-roll. Ah, yes—there are Gwyneira's genes.

Just as I said, we rolled up to the patriarch's mansion a little past noon. Caelina is a very affluent city—not by Eiran standards, but for a peasant, the patriarch seems like a king. The patriarch's house reminded me a bit of my old house. It was roughly the same size and exterior. And I noticed similarities in the overall vibe of it. You could tell that this person has some wealth, but not enough to have a professional landscaper come or even a simple window-washer.

Patriarch Lennon and his husband, Patriarch Gennady, stood with their backs to the door of the mansion. Their four servants and cook lined the stairs. They all wore proud smiles plastered across their faces—it isn't every day that the ruling family of Sancia wishes to stay at your house.

As we all hopped out of the carriage, the breeze swept through us, rustling the trees. I couldn't help but long to get lost among the tree trunks. It's been almost eight years since I was here, in my home region, and I miss it terribly. Gwyneira took my arm, gently nudging me out of my thoughts.

"My dove, did you hear me?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, mellea, I didn't."

"Well, I said that we should go inside for some tea and dinner. We have ridden a long way, and our children are hungry."

As soon as she said the words, the almost eight-year-old body of Fiammetta grabbed my other arm. "Yes, mom. Let's eat."

I patted her hand on my arm. "Yes, arbuscula, splendid idea."

With my two favorite ladies accompanying me, we headed inside. The two patriarchs served us a delicious meal of a type of tree-dwelling bird. I don't remember their name, but their song comes to mind. I used to open my window in summer when the nights grew stifling, and these birds would always serenade me to sleep. Again, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. I can't believe that it's been ten years since I lived here; it feels like only months.

As we all sipped our tea, chatting, Gwyneira rose from her chair. We all did, as well, and she turned to the patriarchs. "I am sorry to depart, but I should like to take a walk. The birds here are lovely, and I wish to hear them a bit more."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Patriarch Lennon said.

"My wife, would you join me? It is your homeland, after all."

A smile took over my face. "Of course, I will." I kissed the forehead of my children. "We will be right back. Halim, Nathaniel, don't let them eat too many jam biscuits."