Page 93 of Homeward for a Spell

Araphi catches Sage’s mouth with her own. “I could eat.”

A low moan escapes Sage’s mouth as Araphi deepens the kiss.

“You’re both shameless, you know,” calls out an amused voice from behind them.

Araphi reluctantly pulls away from Sage to see her cousin Yael standing outside the cottage, a basket of daisies in their arms.

“I’ve been watching for you. Margot’s inside making tea. Come on, let’s get you settled.” Yael turns, walking into the cottage. “I want to hear all about your adventures!”

“I’m still not used to seeing them as a gardener,” Araphi admits, as she and Sage walk through the flourishing cottage garden.

Sage steals one more kiss. “Love has a way of changing you more than you ever thought possible.”

That was true, and every day with Sage, every new adventure, still didn’t feel like real life to Araphi. “I suspect I’ve stumbled into an epic love story that has all the makings of a song,” she says, giving voice to the thought at last.

“Perhaps, Bard, but happily this is our real life. The one we chose.”

“The one I’ll always choose.” Araphi kisses Sage once more before they walk into Yael and Margot’s cottage.

Over tea and some of Yael’s fresh-baked biscuits (who knew Yael could bake, and well?), Araphi and Sage catch them up on the adventures of the last year.

There was the trip to Bramble’s village, where they helped with rebuilding and spent some long weeks by the sea, and saw kelpies and mermaids one unforgettable evening.

There were the many weeks spent camping in the eastern woods as they helped a scholar (not Tea, sadly, no one had heard from her since she’d abandoned the party at Briarwall, though Araphi had inquired after her in Ashaway) discover the nest of a rare gilded raven, long thought extinct, so they might petition the crown to preserve that part of the forest.

There was the trip to the Swamplands, so Araphi could visit her grandparents’ village and lay flowers on their graves.

There were a handful of stops in Ashaway, where Sage had dinner with Araphi’s mother, fathers, and siblings—which went far better than Araphi could’ve imagined—and then the family trooped over to the Rookery to meet Sage’s parents, and to hear Araphi play in the Dragon’s Bane. (Araphi was still shocked that it had happened.)

There were visits to Bloomfield here and there to check in with Yael and Margot, and during those trips, Araphi and Yael spent long nights talking about the rapid decline of the Clauneck fortunes now that their patron had abandoned them (which was the official story; the banishment was known about by only a select few).

Through it all, there were Sage and Araphi, together by campfires and on horseback. In taverns and dining rooms. Hands entwined, content just to be at each other’s sides. It was wonderful, and Araphi still couldn’t quite believe this was her life.

Later that night, Araphi and Sage sit in the middle of the Bloomfield tavern, tankards in front of them.

She tunes the instrument briefly and strums the first few notes of the song she’s been working on—the one she’s been living—for so long.

“This is a love song,” she calls out to the crowd. “I wrote it for someone very special to me, but I’ve not played it for anyone—including her—just yet. I hope you all love it as much as I love her. It’s called ‘The Ranger and Her Bard.’ ”

A loud cheer fills the air, and Yael whistles their approval. Margot claps as well, and beside her, two people she introduced as her parents stand arm in arm. Araphi’s eyes find Sage’s in the crowd, and the ranger grins at her. With a wink, Araphi launches into the ballad.

By the third time Araphi sings the refrain, they’re all singing along with her:

Long the road stretched before them,

Treacherous and hard,

But they rode side by side together,

The ranger and her bard…

By the time she gets to the last verse—the one that’s changed a dozen times since Araphi first wrote it in Arkney, the one that still doesn’t feel quite right, but will have to do this evening—the crowd is on their feet dancing and swaying.

With her heart absolutely full, she walks off to where Sage sits at a table. Then, easing onto Sage’s lap, her lute still clutched close, Araphi sings:

Long they rode together,

But their story will not end,