Epilogue

Absalom Breakspear found that the hardest part of being a parent was letting go. Piety had never managed it, but Absalom had. It hadn’t been easy. Jonah had needed to learn how to be his own man – and to Absalom’s great delight, he had. Whenever there had been news from Anoun, Absalom had devoured it with rapt attention. When Runyan Millworthy had returned on a new mission, Absalom had interrogated him about everything the man could tell him about his son. In the end, the news was even better than he could have hoped for. Jonah had succeeded where the entire Burguish army had failed. He’d driven the Pact out of Anoun.

And now, he was back. And so was Philo. Both his sons had lived, and both would be rewarded for their service to the country. Everyone was lined up in the great reception hall of Balefire Hall – the generals who had doubted the mission, as well as Maldrake, the Minister of War, journalists and some hand-picked family members. Of course, Jonah and his men weren’t the only ones to be decorated today, but they were the ones Absalom was looking forward to.

The ceremony went as these affairs usually did, with hands being shaken and people smiling as the lights flashed with every taken photograph. But it felt different when it was your own son standing there – Absalom’s heart swelled with pride.

“Well done, son,” he told Jonah when it was his turn to shake his hand. Jonah frowned, and they both got lucky that no flash had captured this moment for posterity.

“Thank you,” was Jonah’s dry reply.

Philo didn’t say anything. Neither did Absalom. He felt that words weren’t necessary to convey what he meant to express. His eyes were enough.

Afterwards, there was a big reception with a dinner. Absalom had hoped to speak with Jonah some more, but he seemed preoccupied with a staring contest against Sophie Longerbane, who looked even more formidable and dangerous than she usually did. Absalom couldn’t help but wonder if she knew.

“It’s good to hear about the cease-fire,” he heard Philo say – he didn’t know in response to whom. “We still have some friends in the army,” he explained, nodding at the dark-skinned marrok who had scared the servants shitless at first.

It was General Rumley who answered. “Yes. Apparently, the new Pact leader had a vision the night his father had his unfortunate accident, prophetising the end of his country should he persist in following his father’s path.”

The marrok snorted. “More like ‘was told in no uncertain terms that he’d fall out of a window if he did.’”

Rumley’s cold face broke out into a wolfish grin that made him look like the marrok. “You don’t believe in prophecy, I take it?”

“I wish I didn’t,” Absalom heard Philo mumble into his wine glass before his friend made his own reply. He also saw the glance he exchanged with Jonah while the marrok laughed and made a joke. That glance worried Absalom. Prophecy. Again. Jonah seemed tense and unusually sour at hearing the word, while Philo looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and was about to buckle under it. Later, Absalom would try to get to the bottom of this. For now, a feeling of unease settled in his stomach along with the pâté de foie.

Fin

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