The Rugged Edge

Epilogue: The Silver Cup

Three Years Later

. . . . .

Silver cup with which I served

my quite misdirected land:

poured onto the hopeless hearts

and made all green again.

. . . . .

I smiled to see a fiddler on the street corner. When I realized it was Aliyah, I laughed cheerily. Her eight year old daughter, Eden, was beating on a little drum and dancing around, as happy as ever.

Yes, time has changed everything, I thought as we road down Vilia's cobbled street. It had changed it for the better.

There was, as usual, quite a lot of noise in the marketplace. It was alive and vibrant, with the vendors at each table shouting prices across the town center towards the visitors that came from other kingdoms. There were many of these due to the coming celebrations.

A cheer rose up as we rode between the tables.

"The queen is here!" someone shouted, but of course everyone knew that. Everyone recognized the queen.

Geraint laughed as he rode beside me. "How come they always do that?" he asked me.

"I don't know," I said, laughing too.

But I did know. We all knew.

The sun was setting when we reached Vereniva, and in the bright orange glow, it looked as warm and inviting as a fire on the hearth.

"Oh!" said Quinnie happily, riding up beside us. "Rosalie's gotten a new flower! See it there, next to the roses? It's such a charming shade of blue. I'll have to ask her what's it's called so I can get some for Rokenfort."

Geraint and I laughed. Quinnie had filled every windowsill and every courtyard in Rokenfort with flowers.

"Where are you going to put them?" asked Geraint.

"Oh," said Quinnie, thoughtfully. "Well, I could put them..." she hesitated, thinking. She finally gave up. "Oh, I'll figure it out."

And this time she laughed with us.

. . .

"Don't worry, I'll make you look absolutely lovely, Miss," said Mauve, one morning a week later.

"Of course you will," I said confidently to the twelve year old. "And you didn't forget the flowers?"

"No, of course not!" said Mauve. "Rosalie's bringing them later. She said she's going to have them be as fresh as can be!"

"Alright," I laughed. "I'm ready; go on."

She started braiding my hair, twisting it up on top of my head.

She'd wanted to do my hair for my wedding since the date was mentioned three months ago.

"Alright," I'd said. "As long as you put plenty of flowers in it."

She'd been enchanted by the idea.

. . .

Mauve led me out of my room, down the hall, and into the parlor.

"Oh!" said Bessy. "You look as pretty as your mother!"

"Ise!" exclaimed Quinnie. "I don't think it could be any better."