Sevensworn

XIV. Exhale

The gates of the manor stood in front of them an hour later. The sun had reached its peak in the sky, though it was nearly invisible in the heavy gray that had come over it. The rain still fell. Wynne was tense beside him, eyes hopeful, hands tight on her reins. Ronan managed a smile.

"Are you excited?"

"I've never been more excited for anything," Wynne whispered. "But gods, am I scared." Zia and Acaeus dismounted ahead of him, and Acaeus' face almost mirrored Wynne's. His hands were visibly shaking, and Ronan itched to reach out and extend support, but he could hardly manage to stay upright when Shivaroth helped him from the horse. The god kept a steady hand on his elbow as Acaeus led the horses into a stable and Wynne nearly ran to the doors.

The entrance was a towering, formidable thing. From what he remembered, it was the exact opposite of Liliana, but the perfect picture of her family. The doors stretched high above, arched and carved, with iron handles seeming to spew from the center like a frozen waterfall. Wynne's hand raised and gripped the matching metal knocker.

She raised it once, brought it down. The sound was thunderous. She did it again, then again, then twice more in a frenzied burst. It was the same pattern she had taught Ronan when they had been discussing the code of the King's Circle, and he remembered it clearly. This one in particular had a meaning he had burned into his memory: I am not the enemy.

They stood for a moment. Zia came to stand beside him, and Acaeus next to Wynne. Shivaroth craned his head back and studied the high stone arches. Just as Wynne began to bow her head and draw back, one of the monstrous doors swung inward, revealing a petite woman with bright eyes. She was just as Ronan had remembered her⁠—a bit older, perhaps, with streaks of silver mixed in with the long black of her hair and a touch more command in the way she held herself, but it was her.

Her eyes widened. Her hand fell from the door handle.

"Wynne," she whispered. "Oh, Wynne⁠—"

She flung herself forward and Wynne surged to meet her, the two connecting in a firm embrace. Liliana pressed her face into Wynne's shoulder, and the knight returned the hold with a trembling grip.

"I'm here, Lili." Wynne drew back, pressed a kiss to Liliana's temple. "I'm sorry it took me as long as it did."

Liliana raised a hand, trailed her thumb over Wynne's cheek, taking her in. She was muddy, her hair drenched and her face gaunt, but the love Liliana's eyes held was enough to restore all the warmth their party lacked. She stood on her toes, leaned up, and drew Wynne into a kiss, deep and somber. They pulled away after a moment, reluctant and timid, relearning each other, both desperate to map the new scars and bruises that littered the other's flesh.

But Liliana turned. Looked past Wynne, met Acaeus' anxious eyes, and clapped a hand over her mouth. Acaeus stepped forward and Liliana pulled him into a wordless hug, a grin spreading over her face. After a moment, she stepped back. Acaeus seemed to try to follow as she pulled away, bare and cold without Liliana's protection. He looked lost. Small against the Midlands. When Liliana turned and surveyed the rest of them, he moved away, ducking behind Wynne.

"Ronan," she said when she saw him, obvious concern on her features. "It seems you have overcome fate, Your Grace."

"And you," he smiled sadly. "You have overcome a war."

"Not overcome." Liliana winked. "Dissected. I know the ins and outs of it all, there's no coincidence about it."

"I'd expect nothing less," he replied. "After all, I've seen kings pale at the thought of a good informant."

Liliana's eyes shifted to Shivaroth, who offered her an awkward bow at the waist while still attempting to hold Ronan upright.

"I am Shivaroth, Se Riha. We have not met." The words were odd on the god's tongue. He winced, and added, "I believe that is the Adacian title." He glanced at Ronan for confirmation.