Our Lady's War: Our Lady of Joy, #7

Our Lady’s War

by

Valery Keith

Copyright ©2015, Valery Keith. All Rights Reserved.

Cover art Copyright ©2017, Jeff Keith

E-book ISBN: 978-1-944535-06-3

Print ISBN: 978-1-944535-13-1

Please visit www.ValeryKeith.com for more information.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter One

Lira grinned at Rease from the back of her mare, Felicity.

He smiled back at her, clearly happy, and when she looked at her horse’s flank, there was her dog Night trotting along, a wide, happy grin on his face as his tail wagged in time to his feet. It was a beautiful early spring day and while the trees had not yet leafed out, so that the sun was rather blinding at times, there were little bits of green everywhere and the air was truly warm for the first time in months. After spending most of the winter indoors, it was lovely to feel that warmth and smell the rich, loamy scent as spring burst forth once again. Even nicer, this was a historic occasion.

Today, the Wolf Pack had officially incorporated animal-assisted therapy into their offerings.

Over the winter, Rease had begun mentoring young boys with behavioral problems, a program that the local healing facility had designated the Wolf Pack, after his title as Our Lady’s Wolf. It had all begun with his first student, Rory Eccles, an angry little boy still grieving the death of his parents fiercely. Rory had done very well since, rampaging through what they called the City of Riots, a collection of several acres of shambling, tottering little structures that the whole family had helped Rease build for the sole purpose of letting angry little boys destroy them. When away from his new hero, Rory had been able to use the punching dummy and huge pillows they had sent home with him to work off his aggression without breaking things or attacking people as he had been doing. While he was not always well-behaved, his delighted grandmother had reported that he had certainly improved from the very beginning of this treatment and continued to do so.

The healers at the medical facility had been ecstatic.

To Lira’s immense pride, Rease had been feted and given more troubled boys to work with, five more to be exact. Three of the boys, Henry, Carver and Quinn, were violent just as Rory was, so in addition to their friend Jebseg, he had asked Kayin and the gang if any of them wanted to help. Kayin, their close friend and the son of the Queen of Isura Okun and her Consort Adisa, had agreed with delight, sincerely impressed by what they hoped to accomplish. The Harvester’s Gang, as they were officially known in the past, was led by her father’s friend Red and consisted of Mouse, Bull, Badger, Hawke and Moose. Hearing that Rease needed help, Badger and Moose, who liked kids and thought that destroying things sounded like fun, had both joined the official staff of the Wolf Pack enthusiastically, while everyone else cheerfully agreed to offer their help when needed.

As far as Lira could tell, it let them all act like wild little boys and that was the biggest draw for everyone involved regardless of age. But with that number of adults, they were easily able to stop any fighting that erupted as the four boys, ranging from eight to thirteen-years-old, occasionally lost their tempers with each other, as was a natural outcome with their issues. And if that intervention consisted of each man dangling a screaming boy and refusing to let him go until he calmed to avoid a multi-child brawl, no one minded. So for three of the new boys, Rory’s current treatment was well suited to helping them.

But two of those five new boys were very different.

They were brothers who had fled to Eastlake with their mother to escape their abusive stepfather, so they did not suffer from a surfeit of anger. When she had seen those two boys, Gideon and Seth, who were nine and seven respectively, watching everything with wide, cautious eyes and flinching, Lira had known that she was looking at her contribution to this project. While she had been raised by a loving father in the United States, that was not this world.

Here, she had learned all about being scared.

This was another reality amazingly enough, and here she was Our Lady of Joy, one of only two Emotion Conduits in this world’s history capable of creating physical sensations in the people around her just from her feelings. Her personal version of that odd power, called an affinity, was aligned with the most positive of emotions, like love and compassion, rather than controlling the elements as most Conduits did. That made her something like a cultural icon here, which still caused her to cringe whenever she thought about it, not being the limelight type. As if not wanting the attention wasn’t enough, being Our Lady sucked on several levels.

Big time.

She had discovered that when she had been abducted by the Marches, a rival nation located across the English Channel in what would have been France in her old world. Unconcerned with the fact that she might like some say in her life, they had kidnapped her with the plan that she would increase their national production by doing the emotional equivalent of pumping out happy juice to the public. But instead of cooperating, she had defied them whenever she could get away with it, doing her best to make things worse for them rather than better. That whole experience, punctuated by her killing her assigned Guardian after a vicious beating rather than enduring additional abuse, certainly had made her realize that being Our Lady of Joy was not all wine and roses.

But the truth was that she was a wimp by nature.

Rease didn’t call it that, of course. Being her beloved Consort as well as her Guardian and best friend, he was much kinder in his assessment of her, murmuring phrases like compassionate peacemaker and empathetic collector of lost souls to explain her frequent and persistent tendency to hide behind him and her giant dog, Night. She appreciated that, because one thing she had learned for certain while in this world was that her life was much easier when she felt accepted and surrounded by people who cared for her, timidity, weirdness and all. During her abduction, she had tried to go it alone and that had caused all kinds of problems.

So when she had seen those two lost little boys looking like they expected to be smacked, she had known that they didn’t need to rampage through a city and destroy things, at least not yet. She had met them because once Rease had, he had known that he might need a different plan for them than the one that he had used to date, which was to let the boys run wild, encourage them to hit only approved objects and limit the conflict between them as he did. So he had asked for her opinions about how to best help them. Having seen how they had been fascinated with Night’s apparent gentleness in relation to his size and appearance, she had suggested animal-assisted therapy to help build up their confidence, which was common enough in her old world.

So those boys had gone to the kennel rather than the City of Riots.

Responding with the shyest, happiest smiles at this plan, Gideon and Seth had become Lira’s pet project so that the Wolf Pack could run two therapy sessions simultaneously. Each afternoon, Rease, Jebseg, Kayin, Badger and Moose would head out to the City of Riots with their happy hooligans, the men at least as excited as the boys, dropping Lira, Night, Seth and Gideon at the kennel on the way. The two groups of boys had not met until Rease had lectured his rowdy crew that these two boys, like Lira herself, were under their protection, indicating all the men with a wave of his hand so that they knew any one of the adults would intervene immediately if they behaved aggressively towards either of the two timid boys. To Rease’s vast amusement, he had informed her that Rory had stepped away from the other boys at that announcement, despite being the youngest among them. He had looked at the other children, all older and bigger than he was, with a fierce expression for one long moment, then had come to stand next to Rease, making it clear that he was aligning himself with the adults in this.

So it was that safe from any conflict, Seth and Gideon had spent their time in the kennel when they came to visit. There, under Lira and Night’s collective benevolent gaze, they had played with puppies, worked with the gentlest adults and sat attentively through wildly interesting lectures and demonstrations from Luke, the kennel master, which made Lira just as happy to be there as they were. Their mother had reported that they had been sleeping better at night and seemed less anxious within a few visits, so Lira felt confident that she was on the right track for these two.

Even better, she was pretty sure that they liked it just as much as she did.

While Lira could not swear she knew exactly why it helped because she wasn’t a child psychologist, she believed it had to do with meeting a completely uncritical, loving creature who would allow the child to be the one in control. For children who had been victims, who had never had the ability to control anything about their lives, to be the one in charge of a large, intimidating animal who represented nothing but acceptance made them see themselves in a new light, she believed.

And that could change everything, she knew.

Properly supervised and taught to interact respectfully and safely with the animal, that child could form a loving relationship in which there was no risk, only reward. And even if it did not immediately alter that child’s opinion of himself as a powerless victim, it still had value, she believed. Even if all it did was bring him a brief cessation of the constant fear he carried, then that too was reason enough to help that traumatized child, because no one could live like that without being damaged by it. Since she knew that firsthand from her time in the Marches, she had believed that this would help.

To her delight, it did appear to be working with Gideon and Seth.

So after a few pilot weeks to make sure that they had continued improving, she and Rease had spoken to Blake Weymine. Blake was not just an exceptional horseman, but Lira believed that he had an eye for a deserving animal far beyond the immediate impressions that most people might draw. Blake, Lira believed, saw something past the physical, his assessment deep enough to see all the way to the animal’s true temperament in a way that few could. Not only did he have a surly mare named Epiphany whom he had been rehabbing quite successfully right before their very eyes, but he had purchased a horse for Hanna that had made Lira think that Blake needed to be brought into the Wolf Pack.

Mistakenly assuming that Hanna could not ride because as an avid gardener she had gotten into the habit of walking everywhere to better see the foliage, he had bought her a huge, burly gelding who literally refused to go past a walk under saddle so that she would not be frightened or harmed, yet might still go riding with him. Lira thought that it was unbelievably sweet of him, as did Hanna. In fact, they found it so charming that they could not even talk about it without squealing in giddy delight while any men within earshot winced.

But it said so much about who Blake was, Lira knew, that she couldn’t ignore it.

Walker, as that horse was amusingly named, had been about to meet a gruesome end when Blake had first seen him, in the middle of destroying the last of many carts in his career as a livery horse. But despite that, Blake had seen the essential nature of that horse, Lira believed, as Walker was one of the most gentle and careful horses she had ever met despite his size. Now a cheerful, contented animal, his good nature was evident in everything he did, from moving carefully around people, no matter what the other horses were doing, to taking carrots slowly and gently, no matter how small the hand offering them. Everything he did was characterized by that incredibly tolerant and affectionate benevolence, like love on the hoof.

When Lira had seen Walker once he had settled in, she had known that Blake had a gift.

So she had asked Rease for his opinion of her plan. When he had agreed rather enthusiastically, swinging her around like a gigantic doll while yelling about her brilliance, she had been thrilled. So they had gone to ask Blake if he would be willing to help them with their newest project. As Hanna had sat next to him on the couch, nearly bursting with pride, Blake had agreed to help with sincere enthusiasm, looking as delighted as they had ever seen him.

So once the team was ready, they had needed to speak with the experts.

Mindful that she was not a child psychologist nor a doctor, Lira had sent a formal request to the clinic healers, asking for a meeting to discuss further improving the types of therapy available for troubled children through the Wolf Pack program. When they had replied with a time to meet the very next day, Lira had been thrilled. So she and Rease had met with some of the clinic healers, telling them all about the animal-assisted therapy they wished to pursue with the Wolf Pack and what they hoped to achieve.

Lira had done most of the talking, as she not only carried the most social and political weight as Our Lady of Joy, but she was also more familiar with the concept of using animals for therapy purposes from her old world. So she did her best to be as persuasive as she could, pointing out that while some of the improvements might be almost intangible gains that might only be immediately apparent to the families of these children, those small steps could form a lasting foundation for continued improvement throughout their lives.

They had earned the clinic’s immediate and enthusiastic approval.

Since then, Walker had been designated their flagship horse, quiet as he was and big enough to carry more than one child at a time. Lira, remembering some of the things she had previously seen used for such therapy, had sketched out her idea of what might work to turn Walker into the equine equivalent of a bus. So they had one of the saddle-makers in town craft a suede, well-padded bareback pad without a tree or stirrups, long enough to cover a huge stretch of Walker’s massive back and carry multiple children at once.

The roughened leather nap would provide them with a fair grip and the lack of stirrups and a tree meant that the child or children could move freely on the horse’s broad back, which is something that they would work on once the boys felt more confident. While these two boys were physically fine compared to many of the children in her old world who were greatly helped with this kind of therapy, Lira knew that they might work with children in the future who were not. So she felt this was a wonderful chance to teach Walker that his new life might be full of little children perching on him and windmilling their arms and legs so that he was not surprised by a more physically compromised child in the future.

Now, Gideon and Seth were on him, stacked up along his back like dolls. At first Lira had worried that this kind of therapy might not be as effective in this world, as the children here were not as unfamiliar with horses as those in her world were, so they did not have quite the same novelty. But judging from the looks on the boys’ faces, being on a horse that size for a ride with the young adults they admired was as good as visiting the kennel, she was relieved to see.

Huge draft horse that he was, Walker was so wide that their little legs barely straddled him, even as they sat higher than anyone else. Seeing them on him was so adorable that Lira had made them both shriek with giggles by teasing them about how grown-up they looked, now that they were so much taller than anyone else. While at first they had been wary of Walker’s size, they had soon realized how nice he was as they had groomed the sections of him which they could reach. Blake, who had been as nervous as a first-time father even as he could not stop grinning, had helped them.

Then Lira, Rease, Night, Hanna and Blake had taken the two boys out for a ride.

Since this was their first official equestrian event and they were still figuring things out, they had decided that this would be a smaller, private event for Gideon and Seth alone and may stay as such for a time or perhaps always, depending on how the boys responded. If they tried to bring the other boys, it might inspire the horses to act out, feeding off the boys’ rowdiness as they would. And while Walker was very safe, he had been known to actually canter in the field now, so they didn’t want to risk that an impulsive race between the more confident boys ended badly for the more sensitive ones. So for the day, Rease had passed off his command over the City of Riots to Jebseg, who was backed by Kayin, Badger and Moose in keeping the four remaining boys busy and out of trouble in his absence.

So now, as she listened to Gideon and Seth chatter excitedly about how tall they were and all that they could see from their borrowed height, she grinned at Rease, who was on his bay gelding, English. When she glanced over at Blake and Hanna on their own horses, they were both watching Walker with doting eyes, as if he were their child performing in a talent show. Catching Rease’s eye, Lira indicated the other couple with a lift of her chin. Rease watched them for a moment, then he swung his head back around to grin at her, his expression as happy as she had ever seen it.

He is the single most important thing to me in any world.

As if she had spoken, Rease’s delighted grin shifted into a softer, sweeter smile, his expression warm and affectionate as he simply looked at her. It was so tender a look that Lira felt herself blushing. So then she rolled her eyes at him and he started to chuckle. At her giggles in response, he winked once and then swung his head around to Blake.

You’re on the lookout for more? he asked, gesturing at Walker to indicate he meant horses.

Blake grinned and nodded, looking delighted as he urged his mare Epiphany closer to Rease. Epiphany, who Lira had finally decided was not nasty or cranky as much as she was just a highly opinionated and dramatic diva of the equine variety, laid her ears back as she came closer, giving English the evil eye. Rease’s horse English was a cheerful, spirited and oblivious gelding who routinely bothered Lira’s tolerant mare Felicity and appeared not to know that he was a rude boy with the ladies. So now English was looking at Epiphany as if unaware that she would kick his head off if he tried to treat her like Felicity, his head stretched towards her, a look of curious delight about him as he tried to introduce himself.

Meanwhile, Epiphany clearly did not have any desire to become his love interest, nor was she prepared to tolerate it with good nature as Felicity did. Instead, Epiphany’s expression was ugly, her ears flat against her head, signaling her readiness to bite him if he came any closer. Blake made a disapproving noise and Epiphany’s ears turned to him as he began to praise her so that she ignored English, whom Rease kept from actually bothering her. When she was settled, Blake smiled at them both, patting his mare on the neck.

I’m looking for a few more that might work, Blake agreed. Benjamin’s also going to keep an eye out, so we should be able to find some good candidates.

That’s wonderful, Lira enthused, smiling at Blake, whom she considered her brother.

Blake really was her brother in a roundabout, non-related kind of way, as his half brother Benjamin was also her half brother, courtesy of her father’s wild youth. Their mother Bridget Weymine, the former Lord High Commissioner of the Western Marches, was not a nice lady. Not at all. A literal sociopath, she had not made being related to her pleasant for either of her sons, but Blake had been her favorite target from what Benjamin had told her.

Lira couldn’t imagine having a mother that cruel, so to see him now, in love with Hanna and clearly very happy, thrilled her. Pleased with everything from the sun to the fact that her friends and the boy she loved were all helping make the world a better place, Lira found herself unable to stop smiling. Hanna smiled back at her, looking completely amused as she urged Archer, Blake’s gelding whom she was riding, closer.

This was a wonderful idea, Hanna whispered discreetly as the two men talked about what kinds of horses might work best for their program, her voice delighted.

Blake looks so happy, Lira whispered back. That’s so nice to see. Then she grinned at Hanna. Good job with that, by the way. Her voice shifted into teasing. How’s that theory you had working out for you, my pessimistic friend? Still believe that love is not for you?

Hanna grinned, her expression warm as she chuckled. Lira found herself unable to stifle her giggles as she looked at her friend. Hanna, like Blake, looked happier than she ever had in all the time that Lira had known her.

Say it, Hanna, she urged in a giggling whisper. "Say I will refrain from cynicism forevermore."

You’re like the bratty little sister I always wanted, Hanna teased back. I’ll say that.

At that, Lira giggled so loudly that Night started to bark and dance.

Rease smiled at Lira as he picked up the book they were reading from the bedside table.

She grinned at him, then crawled on the bed and patted the space next to her. When he had first recovered her after her abduction, he had started reading aloud to her at night to help her fall asleep more easily, as well as playing her solar-powered little music player softly over its speaker. Since then, they had gotten into the habit of reading a chapter or two each night and still fell asleep to music.

Lira didn’t always listen when he read aloud, he knew, as she had freely admitted that she just liked hearing his voice and knowing that he was there more so than any actual story he could ever choose. While they had some favorites, including a novel about a brave and clever Guardian Hound which they had read over the winter, and which she insisted must be based on Night, she didn’t care what he read to her, just that he did. By now, he understood that it was one of the traditions which they had created together and for him, that was enough.

Come snuggle with me, my Wolf, Lira said, her expression delighted.

So Rease climbed on the bed, smiling at her as she fit herself against his side with a happy little sigh. Her arm slid over his chest as she settled there, one leg thrown over one of his. Suddenly wanting to cuddle her more than anything, he put the book down on the bed next to him and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her gently as he kissed her temple. She made that happy little sound again as she hugged him back, her arms tight around him. As he always did when he held Lira, Rease felt an immense joy to know that she loved him just as deeply as he loved her. They had been through an enormous amount from the time she first came to his world and along the way, they had become so close that Rease was sure he would remain her Consort for life.

This past winter, when he and her father Jonas had traveled to her old world to assassinate Bridget Weymine before she returned as prophesied to start a war, he had been caught and imprisoned by the authorities in that unfamiliar world. Rease, lost in a very different kind of society than what he understood, simply had trusted that to Lira and her family he was irreplaceable. So he had believed that someone would come for him, expecting Jonas or one of the other men in the family might be his savior, especially considering his location.

But it had been Lira who had rescued him.

Having drained her affinity to create a link to pass through dimensions to retrieve him, Lira literally had just showed up in the jail right in the middle of a meal, screaming about getting her Wolf back. Dressed in a gown fit for a queen and heavily made up, she had counted on them thinking that she was some kind of otherworldly creature to have appeared from thin air as she had. Bellowing about the laws of God and the natural balance, she had shocked them all into a tense, frozen silence.

Until the riot had started.

Then, protected by the men he had befriended and aided, Rease had fought his way across the mess hall to her, intent on killing everyone in the room if that was necessary. Thankfully, it had not been. His large, ragged band of cohorts had held off the guards so that he could reach her. Once he had, she had activated the link and brought him home, saving him as surely as she had in the past.

But what had really awed him was how brave she had been.

For him, she had walked back into her greatest fear since her recovery. Because she loved him enough that she didn’t care about the cost, she had risked potential imprisonment to save him using a link she had made herself by draining her affinity. But it was even bigger than that.

For him, Lira had risked destroying the part of herself that was Our Lady of Joy.

As far as anyone had known, when a Conduit made a link, her affinity was permanently diminished or even destroyed entirely in the process. But not Lira, apparently. She was different than other Conduits, because her affinity affected emotion, an infinite and intangible force, while Element Conduits affected finite elements like earth, air, fire and water. A link made by an Element Conduit would permanently drain her affinity and to date, no one had been able to make a link without that extreme cost to the Conduits involved.

But as Our Lady of Joy, the most esteemed Emotion Conduit in history, Lira could.

Even Seers, Conduits whose affinities were linked to precognitive skills, could not do what Lira did. But when she had started, she had no idea if her affinity would be diminished by such a thing, nor did she care if that was the price she paid. She didn’t even care if her assumption was wrong and it killed Our Lady completely, leaving her forever lessened, as long as she got him back. Because she had decided that she didn’t care about the personal outcome in relation to herself but only him, she had made a link anyway.

And when she had, she had discovered that what she sacrificed for love, she could rebuild.

Having come to her role at seventeen when she had been abducted and brought to this world more than three years ago by Bridget Weymine, Lira had always considered Our Lady of Joy as something of a separate personality within her, much as Rease carried his wolf. While his wolf was most certainly him, it was a very specific, compartmentalized part of him, just as he believed Our Lady was for Lira. She had told him enough that he understood that she visualized her affinity as a city of light built around a golden cathedral, filled with refugees under the protection of Our Lady. Over time, he had come to understand that each time Lira helped someone, each time she acted out of compassion and empathy to make a difference to that lost soul, the city grew and with it, her power.

But for him, she had burned the city of light to the ground.

In a willing sacrifice driven by her love for him, Lira had spent all the gains she had earned since she had come to this world, unconcerned about the consequences to herself. She had believed that it didn’t matter if making the link destroyed her affinity compared to getting him back and that other part of herself, Our Lady, had agreed. So Lira had done it anyway, betting on the fact that because this was the kind of loving sacrifice driven by a need to protect that Our Lady of Joy was made for, it would not damage her permanently.

And she had been right.

Since then, she had been rebuilding the city of light, a source of endless teasing between them because making love with him was one of her favorite ways to do so. While Rease had no complaints about his role in her construction plans, she had also found that charitable acts based on compassion helped as well. So she had been instrumental in urging him to try mentoring troubled boys after he had told her about his time in prison with his band of followers. Having himself felt the immense happiness and peace that came from knowing that he was helping someone, Rease had agreed.

To his surprise, it had been one of the most rewarding efforts of his life to date.

He had started with a single little boy, Rory, in whom he could easily see himself as a child. Rease too had been swamped by the almost constant rage he had felt at the unfair loss of his last surviving parent, underscored by the emotional damage he had received from being locked in a wardrobe in the same room, listening as his mother had been beaten to death by a jealous suitor. When he had finally broken free in the morning, his hands shredded and bloodied from trying to claw his way out, she had already been dead for hours.

That was when the beast had been born.

From then on, Rease’s growth had been fragmented, torn between the boy, who represented the emotional development stalled by his mother’s murder and the beast, his immense, animalistic rage at being unable to protect her. Those two aspects of his personality had coexisted in the frigid wasteland of his heart in mutual misery until Lira had come into his life. When she had accepted him just as he was and titled him as Our Lady’s Wolf, it had changed everything. Her love and unconditional acceptance of him had brought light and heat to the barren kingdom of his heart, turning it into a lush, warm haven and changing the beast into a beautiful black wolf with a coat that glittered as if made from the night sky. Over their time together, the boy had grown as well, so that he was now an adult, matching the man on the ground, bringing Rease to a higher state of emotional and spiritual contentment than he ever had experienced since his mother’s death.

As a result, Rease was currently as happy as he could ever remember being. Thinking of that now, he gently kissed Lira on the forehead, feeling something like reverence for all that she had brought him. He murmured that he loved her as he kissed her cheek gently, feeling her shift as if about to speak.

She is the most precious thing in any world to me.

And then, because she was Lira, she replied that she loved him, too. Just in her own special way.

So, my Wolf, she whispered gleefully, feel like ditching the book and getting naked instead?

Hanna smiled at Blake in the dim light.

I’m so proud of Walker, she whispered. He did so well today. I’m so glad he’s here. It’s like he was meant to help you do this.

Blake smiled back at her, his expression completely relaxed and happy.

Will you help sometimes? he asked softly. I enjoyed sharing that with you.

Delighted with how honest he was being, because she knew that it wasn’t always easy for him, trained to hide his feelings as he had been by his mother, Bridget, Hanna smiled back at him.

Of course I will, she murmured. I loved doing that with you. It makes me so proud to see what a good man you have become, Blake.

His eyes widened, then he hugged her fiercely, his mouth at her ear.

It means so much to me that you feel that way, he said, his voice an urgent whisper. I love you.

Hanna murmured back that she loved him as well, because she sincerely did.

Though they had experienced a rather lengthy, convoluted courtship that had spanned several continents and as many years from their initial meeting until this moment, they had come to know each other quite well by now. In Blake, Hanna had found someone who was strong enough to stand up to her when she was unfairly angry or agitated, but who did not otherwise have any desire to control or direct her. A fiercely independent soul who was used to relying only on herself, Hanna had found that Blake was a perfect match for her in that he would give her whatever support she needed, but he did not want to run her life, nor assume that her sometimes briskly efficient manner was her attempting to run his.

Blake was highly intelligent, funny, easy-going, witty and most importantly, he was kind even when she was not. To date, he had inspired more of a sense of permanence in Hanna than any man ever had before. But even still, for reasons she couldn’t define, the idea of marriage caused her to begin to twitch as soon as it was raised, for which she was completely to blame. When she had finally admitted that her whole reason for avoiding Blake for so long was his family’s tradition of remaining unwed, he had promptly announced he would be happy to marry her whenever she wanted because he loved her. And while that should have solved everything, it had merely introduced a whole new set of worries within her, as the very idea of marriage gave her hives, regardless of the identity of the groom.

While she loved him, she just worried about how it might change things.

A careful, cautious strategist by nature as befits a gardener who plants for her life and well beyond, Hanna found herself unwilling to consider altering what they currently had. It was not that she had any forebodings or worries about how such a thing might work between them, as much as she didn’t want to give up this place she was now, where she finally understood what people meant when they talked about love. As a master gardener, Hanna was loath to transplant a happy, healthy plant to unknown ground where it might not thrive as it had been doing, and she considered her relationship with Blake in a similar fashion. So each time marriage was mentioned, Hanna twitched and flinched.

Luckily, Blake thought it was funny.

In another impressive display of the confident man he had become, he did not take it personally, nor think it was a reflection of her feelings about him. Instead, he understood that it was about her own personal inability to immediately abandon years of thought that had her marry out of duty rather than love. Believing marriage would require something like the death of her personal happiness, her fears had twisted the whole concept within her to the point that she simply reacted out of habit to the idea of being wed at all, rather than the idea of marrying him. And while she had been afraid of hurting him with her reactions, he had always understood that it really had nothing to do with him, thankfully.

But he still thought it was hysterical, frequently teasing her by mentioning it and then bursting into laughter at her immediate expressions and reactions. Hanna, who felt a vast relief that he could laugh about it rather than be offended or wounded, never minded, because he always looked so happy when he did. So strange though it might be, her repeated rejections of anything more serious happening between them right now had just brought them even closer together. To her relief, it had become a frequent shared joke, rather than a worry.

Meanwhile, they lived together at Eastlake, her family’s estate, quite happily, as well as they got on together now. As a team, they had written a very well-received treatise on plants begun while in Isura Okun that had gained national recognition here once it had been published to critical acclaim. The brisk and constant trade with that nation had filled the family coffers of Our Lady, the Davies and the Weymines to overflowing in return for their initial and continued investments as trade increased. They had even helped with that as well, though they had not known it at the time. Totally by coincidence, Blake and Hanna had made their own unique contribution to the trade venture with their treatise, which had massively increased demand for the plants they were importing.

While their spring shipments had not yet arrived as the plants could not be shipped in cold weather, they were expected to arrive within weeks. Thanks to their treatise, those exotic new species were widely anticipated by nurseries and professional gardeners all over the Western Marches. Due to that demand, plants currently made up more than thirty percent of their most profitable shipping contracts based on commissioned orders from all over the country. While that could be expected to drop as those species took hold in the country and were actively propagated here in the coming years, it would certainly provide additional funding for new ventures.

Those additional monies were slated to broaden their import offerings and increase their shipping lines in cooperation with the Queen of Isura Okun, who had been their sponsor there. Thanks to that successful relationship, Isura Okun had risen to a position of international importance, affluence and recognition, while their happy little group had all the coin they needed to ensure their safety and continued well-being. Having helped the family they shared with Lira find financial security, now Hanna and Blake were going to add their considerable efforts to Rease and Lira’s very worthy goal of helping children.

I never thought my life would be like this.

How amazing and rewarding it feels to be so very wrong.

Completely content, Hanna cuddled with Blake.

Mouse was happier than he had ever been.

He and Iranti were taking a walk in the middle of the night through the garden, as both of them enjoyed the darkest hours. To his delight, Mouse had discovered that he was not the only one who was sometimes seized by the desire to roam about under the cover of darkness. The first time he had seen the bright moonlight through the window and been unable to sleep, he had quietly climbed out of bed without disturbing her. He had been dressing when she had sat straight up in bed, clearly not asleep as he had thought.

Are you all right? she had whispered, her voice concerned.

When he had smiled at her and assured her that he could not sleep, so he would simply take a walk, she had bounced right out of the bed and asked if she could accompany him. He had been charmed as she had come along with him, holding his hand as they had silently walked through the gardens, which looked subtly different in the moonlight but every bit as lovely. By the time they had been done walking, they had said no more than a few words to each other, but upon returning to their room, Mouse had fallen asleep almost instantly, holding her in his arms as he did. Since then, they had roamed the estate and surrounding area many a night, with Iranti expressing sincere delight at them slinking around undetected to see what people so often missed, asleep as they always were during the latest hours.

He found the night restful and calming, the way it was a slower-paced world of silence and shadow, uninterrupted by humanity in the larger sense. During those late hours, time itself seemed to slow as if thickened by the dark, so that reflection had an ease to it that he could find at no other time. Iranti enjoyed it just as much, gleefully confessing that while she loved walking in the dark, she had never been able to venture as far as she would like by herself, finding it somewhat scary. Since she was a Seer, a rare type of Conduit who could see the future and learn the most profound wisdom in a moment, tied to the essence of the universe itself as she was, such timidity was not uncommon. Such valuable women were not commonly encouraged to do anything that might risk their well-being, nor develop interests that might see them harmed.

Since only a handful or fewer were born each generation across the globe, Seers were highly revered for the guidance they could provide to leaders and heads of state. As a consequence of their rarity and because all Conduits were known to become stronger the more secure and happier they felt, Seers generally lived isolated, protected lives as the confidants of monarchs and international statesmen. There, the immediate environment could be carefully managed to keep them safe, happy and confident enough to provide the most value to their employers without the intrusive burden of a Guardian, as other classes of Conduits were required to have by law. Needing peace and solitude to meditate, most Seers refused a Guardian, as Iranti had. Deprived of the shield that all other Conduits had to provide them with the confidence to interact freely with both the public and the world at large and pampered due to their rarity, Seers tended to be timid, either by nature or circumstance.

But Iranti was different.

Sent by the Queen of Isura Okun to keep her son, Prince Kayin, safe as he insisted on accompanying them to rescue Lira after her abduction by the Marches, Iranti had proven far more brave than the average Seer, Mouse believed. Despite having been sheltered her whole life so that she was uneasy even making a purchase at a market, she had traveled across the world with them to help because her Queen had requested it. Because she was a woman of honor, Iranti had suppressed her natural concerns and come with them to provide them with the benefit of her council. Having her at their side had given them a profound advantage at numerous points along the way.

It was during that time that Mouse had fallen in love with her.

Now, he understood that he and Iranti were meant to be together, that Our Lady’s Assassin and her Seer were fated to fall in love as something of a reward for both of them. Knowing that had brought him immeasurable satisfaction. When Iranti had explained that after having seen it in her meditation, Mouse had known it was proof that all the years he had struggled to be the best man he could be despite his calling in life had been worth it.

Because this was his reward.

And he sincerely did consider being involved with Iranti to be a reward in the most complimentary way. For reasons he would never understand but secretly considered feminine silliness, she did not see herself as he did. To him, she was beautiful, kind, courageous and astonishingly wise, both as a person and as a Seer. Even better, all that was overlaid with a childlike enthusiasm for discovering life that Mouse had nurtured as best he could by getting her out to see much of what she had missed in her life to date. Each time she had turned to him with wide-eyed delight, he had seen the moment as she did, as if he had been reborn, so that all he had thought tattered and common about life had been revealed as pristine and remarkable once more.

Through Iranti’s eyes, Mouse rediscovered the smallest joys of life.

Now, he could simply sit with her for hours without even speaking and feel such immense pleasure that she was with him by choice, that she loved him as deeply as he loved her, that they did not need to speak. He found that he loved to simply walk with her, that soft little hand entwined with his own as they wandered for hours, silent and completely content. Each time he looked at her, she was almost radiant, her expression one of sincere peace, a little smile on her face the entire time as if she could not stop smiling. Even better, he felt exactly the same.

Loving her had been the most pleasant experience of his life to date.

They had spent the entire winter getting to know each other better in the nicest of ways, as Iranti spent as much time as she could trying to stay warm by climbing into his bed. Being from Isura Okun, she was still adapting to this much colder climate and found it difficult at times. Or at least she used to. Now when she was cold, she simply burrowed into him, shivering and he immediately did his best to warm her up.

As if she knew what he was thinking of, she dropped his hand to slide her arm around his waist. Without a word, Mouse slid his arm over her shoulders, opening his coat as he did so that she could nestle into him for warmth. Once he did, she cuddled even closer, a gentle, happy sigh breaking from her as she tightened her arm on his waist. At the noise, Mouse found himself smiling just as she turned her head to look at him. Seeing his smile, she grinned in obvious delight.

Without saying a word, they smiled at each other before continuing to walk in the moonlight.

To her constant surprise, Dove was now a happily married woman.

While still a teenager, she had joined the Harvester’s Gang, a criminal organization based in Roancliff and created by Jonas prior to her arrival. When he had left to become a Guardian, he had handed off the gang to his second-in-command, Red, who had found her shortly thereafter and offered her a safe haven with the gang. Red had been the one who had arranged for her training as a lure and thief. While she had never thought to become a criminal, she had been very good, so by the time she was done training, she had joined Mouse, Bull, Moose, Hawke and Badger on Red’s elite team. But unlike the men, she was not muscle.

Not at all.

Dove had been trained to manipulate, charm and divert, enabling her to be the gang’s entry for many a job. Legendary even as her appearance, history and name changed repeatedly throughout the years, she had never failed to complete a job to date, skilled as she was. Aided by the prior research that Red insisted on before targeting anyone, she showed each of the marks his perfect woman.

Meticulously planned for that specific man’s interests, it always worked, giving her access to their lives, homes and secrets. Once she had gained that, someone specific suited to the job from Red’s elite team would sweep in if needed, either because she could not steal the targeted item herself, or because the man had been chosen for some reason other than his possessions, as sometimes happened. After the gang gained entry, her job was done, whether it was a straight up theft for Mouse or Hawke, or a more personal visit in which force was needed, in which case Bull, Badger or Moose, fond of hitting things as they were, handled it under Red’s supervision.

Despite that profession, she had stayed safe. She had routinely altered her appearance outside of work just enough that she could not be spotted again easily, cosmetics, wigs and fashion providing her with all the camouflage she had needed. Her hair pulled back into a messy braid under a bonnet, her face free of cosmetics and her clothes modest and nondescript, no one had ever tied her to the Siren of Roancliff, that mythical goddess who appeared and disappeared throughout the city over the years, leaving behind broken hearts and broken lives.

But that was exactly who and what she had been for years.

For Dove, it had been revenge served cold, long after she had learned all about men as a naive teenager. Having been taught the single ugliest lesson of physical vulnerability a woman can learn from her drunken mother’s beau, she had never thought that she would marry or be in love, nor did she even wish to consider it. Instead, she had turned the wrath of the Siren of Roancliff on the city, setting men up for their personal tragedies with the greatest of glee.

For years, she had sought to reclaim her stolen innocence through those men, ruining them as she had been ruined. She had felt no pity or remorse for them as their lives had fallen apart from the moment she had walked out the door a final time, whether because she herself had carried the goods, or because Mouse or Hawke had already lifted them while she and the target had been sitting downstairs, chatting. Even knowing that she had been leaving them to a spectacular beating or possibly death had not moved her. But then, for much of her life, nothing did affect her except for fear.

But ruining the men had helped. Somewhat, anyway.

It had brought her some small measure of relief, because what she had felt for that brief time had been a cessation of the constant, gnawing fear that she had always carried. So that had made being the Siren almost addictive, smothering her fear and pain as it had. Instead of being afraid the way she always was, playing the Siren had brought her to the level of a vengeful goddess, impersonal as a misfired arrow and just as potentially damaging.

Dove, who was not a big, strong woman, had liked poisons as her equalizer of choice. Under Mouse’s guiding hand, she had acquired a vast selection of jewelry, all fashioned for carrying and administering everything from sedatives to lethal poisons that would kill in literal moments. Mouse had kept her well stocked with compounds and she had never worked without a full compliment of options arrayed on her person.

Never again would any man find her helpless, she had thought before each job.

Dove had been determined that she would never be a victim again, nor would Red or the rest of the gang ever allow it now that she was part of their family. So should the mark’s behavior ever become aggressive or alarming enough that she feared for her safety, she had permission to put him down at her discretion with the gang’s approval, either temporarily or permanently, regardless of his identity or the details of the job. Red had been especially adamant about that, telling her repeatedly throughout the years that she mattered far more to them than any contract ever could, so she was to take no chances with her own safety. Driven by fear as she was, she had always carried several knives sharp enough to kill along with the poison and Red had ensured that she knew how to use them, so that if she was directly confronted and her poison was rendered useless from the speed of the attack, her steel would still save her.

Thanks to Red’s insistence on information before action, she had never had to do such a thing, fortunately. But she had always taken great comfort in the idea that unlike that single horrible incident in her past when she had not been able to protect herself, now she could and would kill first so that he was the victim. Contented with the knowledge that she could easily pull her knife and slide it right between his ribs just as Red had taught her, hitting his heart on the first strike, she had been able to suppress her fear long enough to work.

How she had behaved and the life she had lived had also revolved around her past.

With a mark, she had allowed no liberties of any sort past the most innocent signals of respectable courtship; a kiss on the cheek or hand, a nicely-turned compliment with a proffered arm. Any man who thought he might be able to get so much as a kiss and cuddle from the Siren had soon found otherwise, even if he was never quite able to remember exactly what had happened. So while Dove had spiked many a drink with sedatives, no one had ever harmed her again.

She had passed through Roancliff like the most destructive of storms, becoming a local legend as the men of the city had lamented the loss of their perfect mate, mirror that she had been trained to be. Over time, their stories had embroidered themselves into the city, so that she was every woman and none. The one who stayed for a single brilliant night or two and then left with the sunrise never to be seen again, the Siren of Roancliff was known for the trail of brokenhearted men she left behind, all of whom saw in her whatever reflection pleased them the most.

Barkeep after barkeep heard all about the Siren’s beauty, wit and exceptional brilliance as Dove became exactly who these men needed her to be to believe themselves in love. But in these stories, she was the passionate lover as each man tried to claim that he had known the Siren intimately, even as each regretted deeply that such a thing was far from the truth, making her allure even more irresistible. Played for the predators they were by prey so sly that she would always outrun them, her marks fell to her as soon as she crooked a delicate finger. So the Siren of Roancliff was a legend throughout the city, even as her appearance changed and she came and went through the years with no one really knowing who she was.

During that time, Dove had never thought anything would or could change.

For the longest time, a different life had seemed impossible to her, simply because of who and what she had become. She had understood that she was damaged beyond repair by what had happened to her. She had recognized early on that she was unlikely to ever have a happy life the way most people defined such a thing.

Emotionally scarred as she was, she didn’t see any other alternatives available for someone like her. She had lovers in an effort to act like a normal woman, but even there her past dictated who she chose, as she could only manage the kindest and most passive of men without fear. And while they were always kind because it was in their nature, none of them ever had inspired love or anything close to it.

Then she had met Jonas.

While not a passive man by nature and far from harmless, he had proven kinder than she had thought a man could be when interested in a woman. He had been so patient that it had astonished her, giving her all the time she had needed to reconsider her earlier impressions of what she deserved in life. And along the way, she had fallen head over heels in love with him, so when he had asked her to marry him, she had agreed without so much as a single doubt. Now, it was simply one more tie binding them together in the nicest of ways, just as their gigantic shared family did.

To her surprise, her life was now better than she could have ever imagined.

She had become the adopted mother to the vast brood of children that always seemed to cluster about Jonas no matter their ages. In addition to his own natural children, Benjamin and Lira, he had also jointly adopted a little boy with her. Lira had found Ibukun in the market in Isura Okun and had insisted that she was keeping him. But being the child-magnet that he was, Jonas had soon taken on the role of the child’s father, making Dove a natural for the role of his mother. Even better, she loved it, finding that she adored having a clever, self-sufficient son she did not have to deliver herself, but who brought her all the joys of motherhood even still.

As if those three were not enough to keep them busy, they had also informally adopted Rease, Blake, Benjamin’s beau, Nollen and anyone else who needed it, while adding Benjamin’s two children and Jonas’ grandchildren, Cathy and Eddie, to their list of beloved relatives as well. And while she did love teasing Jonas about how he was everyone’s favorite father and grandfather, Dove also felt that it was a measure of his worth that so many young people in need were drawn to him. Able to sense his protective, paternal nature and in need of such a thing, they gravitated to him and he genuinely enjoyed that role in their lives, she knew. At some point each day, he would make a point of speaking with each of them to make sure they were well, so that they were all very aware that he was there for them. Seeing his devotion and obvious interest in nurturing this family had delighted her, because she felt the same way.

Now a married woman and adopted mother, Dove was happier than she had ever been.

Ibukun looked at Momma, who was daydreaming again.

He could always tell, because her face would become even softer than it usually was, her eyes warm and far away as a little smile edged her mouth. She