Page 92 of Homeward for a Spell

Ollie shakes their head. “You were always a mystery, Sage Wilderstone,” they say almost fondly. Then their gaze sharpens. “If that’s still the case, then why do you look happy? Under all the nervous sweat, I mean.”

“Because I am.” Sage can’t stop the smile that spreads as easily as warm butter at the thought.

“It would be the polite thing to say ‘I’m glad for you,’ ” Ollie says. But their mouth quirks up in a slight, real smile in return.

“What about you?” Sage dares to ask.

“I admit I’ve been restless lately, even missing the road a bit myself. Strangest thing. But planting season’s begun, and except for those last years of adventuring, I’ve spent my whole grown life crossing the river to tend the capital’s orchards, when folks on this side of the river can hardly afford the fruit. Only just last summer, some odd customer at the perfumery greenhouse where my sister works gave her more jewels than exist in the Rookery for a tip, and told her of land for sale for cheap on the west side of the city. You remember the overrun field where we planted our apple seeds?”

Sage gasps. “Is that so? Did the trees ever grow?”

“Aye, two of them did. Grown and fruiting. At least, they will be when autumn comes again. Anyhow, my sister and our mothers have been planting on the land, planning to grow enough to eat and to sell. So if there were a season for me to strike out again, I suppose it’d be this one.”

“I’m glad for you too, then, if that’s what you want.”

Ollie chuckles. “Perhaps I’ll find out.”

“Well. If you’re thinking of the sea, we know a sorceress who’s headed to Shearwater and could probably use an adventuring companion. Just look for a little redhead with a very large snowy owl.”

“We?” Ollie prods.

Sage’s cheeks warm, and she rubs the back of her neck where Araphi gave her a fresh shave in Briarwall. “Just take care of yourself, will you?”

Her ex-wife winks up at Sage from their chair. “Whoever we is, take care of each other.”

As she shuts Ollie’s door behind her, Sage tilts her face up to the sky above the Rookery. The clouds over the only home she knew before Araphi are exactly the same as she remembers, but then, they look much the same anywhere. She wonders what her childhood self would think of that if she knew. Turning toward the mouth of the alley, Sage tucks her hands into the pockets of her breeches and starts walking.

There’s a prize-winning bard waiting at the Dragon’s Bane, and she’s promised to buy Sage a drink.

36

Epilogue

Spring, One Year Later

Araphi

It’s taken her almost a year to get all the notes and verses of the ballad right, but now it’s ready. Tonight, at the party before Yael and Margot’s wedding, Araphi will play Sage the song she’s written for her.

She hums a snippet from it as she and Sage stroll along the path to Margot and Yael’s cottage in Bloomfield one morning in early April.

“That’s a pretty tune, Bard,” Sage murmurs. “What is it?”

“You’ll see.” Araphi leans against the garden gate that leads to the cottage yard and smirks.

Sage turns to her, one eyebrow raised. “A secret?”

Araphi threads her fingers through Sage’s, pulling her close, so their bodies are pressed together. “A gift, Ranger. Be patient.”

Laughing, Sage kisses her. “If you’d told me a year and a half ago that we’d be walking hand in hand to Yael and Margot’s wedding, I would’ve called you a liar.”

“And I would’ve flirted shamelessly and told you how much I like your sword.”

“You would’ve done that, wouldn’t you?”

Heat flares in Araphi’s belly at the look Sage fixes upon her. Reminding her of last night in the tent they shared along the way to Bloomfield. Taking her back to the way Sage pinned her arms above her head and…

“Stop thinking such wicked thoughts,” Sage whispers, leaning in to kiss the space behind her ear. “Or we’ll have to do something about them, and neither of us have had breakfast yet.”