“You’ll have a son,” Phelan said softly. “You and my cousin. But you’ll have more than just him.” His eyes focused on something far away. How much do I tell him? How much do I dare? “There’ll be a girl, too. I don’t know when, but that’ll happen. Your son and Marin and Thom’s will be as close as brothers—and fight like brothers, in some ways.”
“But she’s not pregnant.”
“We’re not sure if she is or not,” Phelan said, glancing at Cameron sidelong. “Anyhow, variable ages have never been a real barrier to true friendship, have they?”
Cameron stared down into the ravine, at the dead leaves and the snow that caked them, at the ice gathered around rocks far below. “I guess not.”
Phelan put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “He’ll be a hero,” he said quietly.
“I’d settle for ordinary lives,” Cameron murmured, his eyes distant. “For all of us.”
“You don’t have that in you.”
Choking back a bitter laugh, Cameron nodded slowly. “You’re right about that, I guess. I’ve never settled for ordinary. It’s driven everything I’ve ever done. Joining the service, trying to…to save Neve…”
Phelan squeezed a little harder. “You have saved her, Cameron.”
“Have I?” he murmured. “I feel like all I’ve done is get her hurt. Put her in harm’s way.”
“With everything you know about what she is, who she is, where she comes from, you still think that?” Phelan shook his head. “Cameron, you’ve saved her from being bloody well alone. She never thought that she’d ever find someone, anyone. You lifted the burden of that blade from her shoulders. She’s carried it for nearly as long as any of us can remember. She doesn’t have to anymore.”
“Not alone, anyway,” Cameron said softly. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, hunching in his jacket. “You can’t tell me that my carrying that sword doesn’t still make it her burden, too.”
“Of course it does,” Phelan said. “But the difference is that she’s not carrying it alone.”
Cameron exhaled something that wasn’t quite a sigh. “None of this tells me what I want to know.”
“What do you want to know?”
“What does this blade mean for me, Phelan? You said you’d tell me what you knew.”
“You’re a hero,” Phelan said, his tone gentle. “You’re a knight errant, and that’s what you’ll be. Your son…Cameron, your son will be the leader that you and Neve and all of us teach him to be. But the four of you—you and Thom and Marin and Neve—you’re the leaders for today. Your son is the king of tomorrow.”
“King,” Cameron echoed, then snorted softly. “My son. A king. In America.”
“There isn’t an America anymore.” Phelan sighed. “There isn’t anything anymore, not yet. There will be, someday. All of you will build it, start the legacy.
“You’ll ride the roads, between here and everywhere, carrying messages, doing good deeds, shepherding those who’d dare take to the road. Sometimes, Thordin or I or Thom will ride with you. Sometimes you’ll ride alone.
“But you’ll keep your promise to Neve.” Phelan swallowed hard at the tightness in his throat, the tightness birthed from the lie he was spinning. “You’ll come home to her, each and every time. She’ll stay here, most of the time—easier for her.”
“Easier?”
Phelan nodded slowly. “She has an adventurer’s heart, but after all that’s happened these past few weeks, she’ll never be the same—never be as strong as she used to be. It’ll be hard for her to accept it, but eventually she will. She’ll settle in here, settle into a life with friends and people who love her and her children—the children you two share.” He smiled. “And she’ll wait with them here for you to come home.”
“It’s hard to believe,” Cameron said quietly.
“Believe it,” Phelan answered. “Because it’s true.”
