Richard gazed down at the quivering hilt of the sword before he took hold of it and held it aloft. Several long seconds passed before he called out for his guard.

Simone took Korvel’s hand as the two warriors came to flank him.

The high lord stepped forward. “You vowed by bond of blood to serve me and my house, and to obey me in all things. By disobedience and insolence you have broken that vow and released me from my obligations to you.”

Korvel had thought the words would feel like blows, but instead he felt the chains inside him snapping, link by link.

Richard pulled back his hood and regarded the men on either side of Korvel. “Stefan, Howarth, I call on you as witnesses, and declare that this man has broken faith with me. He no longer holds position in my household or rank among the Kyn. His weapons and possessions will be confiscated, his privileges revoked.”

It wasn’t until the high lord inverted the blade and offered the hilt to Korvel that he felt the last chain, the one that had for so long imprisoned his soul, fall away.

“Korvel the bastard, I discharge you from my household. From this day forth, you no longer serve me as seneschal.”

Epilogue

November 7, 2011

Somewhere in Provence

T

he vineyards surrounding the old château, which had once employed half the village, had not been worked for many years. All mourned the day the land had been bought from its elderly owners by a speculator, and when the property became an asset squabbled over during his subsequent lengthy bankruptcy, predictions of doom began to spread. Ultimately the château and all the vineyards went to a bank in Paris, to be sold off again to the highest bidder. This, of course, would probably be some foreigner determined to renovate it into a profitable obscenity that would turn the village into another tourist trap. Dour bets were placed as to whether the new owners would convert the winery into a factory for cheap ceramics, a New Age cultists’ retreat, or a backpacker hostel.

News of the sale reached the village, which initially rejoiced to learn a young couple had purchased it. To add to the excitement, it was rumored that they intended to keep it as a winery and start their own label. That joy crashed into renewed desolation when the owner was revealed to be an Englishman. Only when the Realtor also let it slip that he had a French wife did the locals decide that he must have some brains, and all was not lost.

En effet, he could have been married to an Englishwoman.

Simone lit the candle in the center of the old millstone table before she went to sit on the edge of the retaining wall. The music she had left playing in the house drifted out through the windows, coloring the frosty air with the wild, cascading sweetness of Debussy’s First Arabesque. Tonight it brought her the same languid pleasure as the blue silk dress she wore. She could feel the frost like tiny crystals in the air, but the cold never bothered her now. Almost nothing did.

While the encroaching winter had stripped most of the leaves from the olives and the cypresses around the old château, and gleaned all of the fields in the valley to brown stubble, she could still smell the lavender in the air. It reminded her of the convent, which still remained deserted, and the sisters, all of whom had been relocated to a new sanctuary in Italy. Gabriel had inquired after them for her, and assured her that the council had them well protected.

Nicola had set up a secure computer system for Korvel, and Simone used it to contact each of her brothers. While she had used them like a threat against Richard, she had no intentions of further intruding on their lives, and tried to release them from the oath of loyalty they had been forced to make. She still couldn’t quite believe they had all flatly refused, or that so many would soon be relocating to Provence to be near her and Korvel.

Alexandra Keller had called from America to tell Simone about the strange green particles she had discovered in the samples of blood she had taken from her. “I intended to test them and confirm that they were fragments of these emeralds Richard wants, but when I took the sample out of the centrifuge they were gone. The pathogen responsible for making you Darkyn probably ate them. What I want to know is, how did they get into your bloodstream?”

“Pájaro struck me in the head with the cross,” Simone told her. She recalled the tiny green glitter she had seen just before he’d hit her. “Perhaps it still had some power left in it.”

“You’re not going to tell me what you know about these emeralds, are you?” Alex said, and then answered herself with, “Good idea.”

The little black dog came out of the woods first, racing up to the terrace to leap the wall and bounce around her, finally balancing on her hind legs as she pawed Simone’s skirt. Her sharp, excited barks soon quieted to little grunts of pleasure as her mistress scratched behind her ears and across the white line of fur along her belly.

Simone gathered the puppy onto her lap as she watched the big man emerge from the shadows. His black woolen cloak flared as he removed it and hung it on a peg by the back door.

The puppy, already accustomed to the daily routine, jumped down and raced around her master’s boots before she darted inside for her water bowl and the chew toy she had nearly gnawed in half.

Long flaxen hair fell in a curtain around Simone’s face as Korvel bent to kiss the end of her nose. He smelled of earth and larkspur, and she brushed a bit of soil from his shoulder. “What have you been doing?”

“Walking the perimeter. Running after the dog. Inspecting the south vineyard. Wishing for a leash.” He sat down beside her. “The soil is rich, and once spring comes and I’ve cleared the land, I think we can begin planting.”

It had been only two weeks since they had moved into the château, and already it felt like a home. She had considered burning the summons sitting in the pocket of her apron, but that would not make it go away.

“This came while you were out.” She handed it to him. “It’s from Richard.” As he crumpled it in his fist, she touched the back of his hand. “You should read it.”

He unfolded and smoothed out the paper, scanning the brief message. “‘Rule of Ireland bestowed on the Kyn warrior who finds the Emeralds of Eternity.’ How like him to turn foolishness into sport.” He looked up at her. “Gabriel knows of this?”

She nodded. “Nick called soon after the courier left. She said that the summons made Gabriel laugh and that we shouldn’t ‘sweat it.’”

“Richard publicly insults him, and he finds it amusing.” Korvel threw the paper across the terrace and watched the puppy race out, snatch it up, and carry it back into the house. “Now she will piddle on it.”

“Better that than the rugs.” She stood up and encircled his neck with her arms. “No one will come looking for me. Simone Derien died in Jamaica defending the cross. Now there is only Simone Cavelle, and this house in the hills, and the vineyards, and the dog that needs a leash.” She sniffed at his shirt. “And her husband, who needs a bath, and his back scrubbed, and as many kisses as he wants.”

He picked her up off her feet. “How much do you like this dress?”