Chapter Eighteen, Final Chapter

Lirael heard sounds outside her room and opened her eyes, turning her head as much as the pain would allow. The guard approached and the seal on his uniform allowed him to pass through the barrier. Silently, he set a cup to her cracked lips and helped her drink. Her uncle had been merciless the first three days and for the following two days, he had allowed no food or water to be given to her. She raised her eyes to the guard, her brows knitting at this thought.

“The king has given you a reprieve,” he said tonelessly. “From him, at least.” The sheer disgust in his tone told her how he felt about Mikhail being allowed to abuse her body in every possible way. The guard glanced down and flinched. The clothes she had been given were ragged already from her uncle’s mistreatment of them. The guard made no comment about them and merely fed her some of the bread he had brought with him and then gave her more water. After his meager but risky ministrations were finished, he left.

Lirael turned her head and stared up at the long, stretching ceiling above her. Her wrists were tied above her and her legs were tied apart as well. The ropes burned against the wounds they had made from chafing during her uncle’s activities with her. It had been difficult the first time since it brought back her first memory. She had struggled to bring different memories to mind. None had worked to block out the sounds in her cell until her memories of Bolivar came to mind.

Even now, beaten and bruised in the situation she was in, the thought of the bandit king made her smile. He loves me, she thought, a warmth stirring from the depths of her heart. With a tiny sigh, she laid her head back and closed her eyes, clinging to that thought and falling into a restful, albeit uncomfortable slumber.

X

Bolivar stared blankly out of the window of the guest room he had been given. Night had fallen and for the past three days, two of them in which Lirael had been allowed to simply lie in her tower cell, Mayala wouldn’t allow him to leave. He rarely left his room, letting his wits arrange themselves into normality. He was perfectly capable of leaving, but he still had no exact plan as to what he would do when he arrived in Metropolis.

He closed his eyes and took a hold of the windowsill, pressing his forehead against the window pane. Outside, it was a deceptively beautiful landscape. The ground was covered with a white substance, as it always was, and a soft breeze flew, picking up the newly dropped shards of snowflakes, merging them with the drifting snow that came from above. It wasn’t pure dark outside, but with a slight light out from the reflection of the snow and simply because of the position of the Snowlands. Amolphor... Why would you have me stand here and see such a view alone? Bolivar wondered sullenly.

A dark shape flew in, blocking his gaze and he straightened, tensing. The shape descended onto the ground and a massive head was raised, golden eyes gleaming up at him. Bolivar caught his breath, realizing it was Marro, who had been missing all these days he had been in the Snowlands. Come down here, bandit king, the dragon beckoned, fully dressed and prepared to leave. Without questioning him, Bolivar collected his things and dressed quickly, adjusting the fur cloak Mayala had bought for him. He made the bed and wrote a quick farewell note to the two.

Quietly and without a sound, Bolivar glided through the house and out the door to where Marro was waiting. Without a word, he rested his neck and head on the ground, inviting him on his back. Bolivar carefully climbed on him and grasped him firmly with his thighs, seeing as how there was nothing to grab a hold of. Marro raised his head and extended his wings, plunging them upward into the sky.

Can you tell, little king, that they have all given up?

“What do you mean?” Bolivar asked, flattening himself on the dragon’s back so his face didn’t get burned from the wind.

Mayala and Alexei planned on keeping you there so you did not run off after Lirael. Alexei wants to do something, but he feels it is all useless if she is in the Tower. I am not so pessimistic and I can feel that you are not, either. He paused. I broke from Kori, so I can now go outside the Snowlands. I would never have done so otherwise, but Lirael will need me.

“Why?”

We dragons are the ones that filled our power into the Tower of the Eclipse. That is why it cannot be broken except by special objects or words. Sorcerer magic, when it comes to the spells of our Elders, can never work. What race would be direct descendants of Amolphor? He paused and the half-breed offered no reply. Satisfied, he said, I am going to destroy the Tower, Bolivar, and we are going to kill the king that dared to harm my favorite.

“And her uncle,” Bolivar added in a dangerously soft voice.

Yes, Marro crooned, and her uncle.

X

Alexei didn’t raise his gaze from the snowy landscape that stretched out before him as Kori’s spriggans shrieked and caused havoc around the peaceful land. He could only stand quietly in the cold that he had grown to love in his life. His cloak, although thinner than most, kept him warm and safe from the bite of the permanent winter’s wind. Behind him, he heard the door open, but kept his eyes fixed forward.

“Bolivar is gone,” Mayala told him quietly. She closed the door and shuffled towards him, extending her hand with the note the bandit king had left. Her brother barely gave it a glance. As he made no move to take it, she withdrew her hand and looked down on it, saying, “He has left to get Lirael. Marro is with him.” She paused and frowned up at him. “Obi, I do not like this. It is an impossible attempt. They will both be killed! Marro, of course, will die anyway, but – ”

“Be quiet, Mayala,” he spoke at last, his voice low. “There is not impossibility when it comes to dragons, something you have never brought yourself to learn. Bolivar could have torn through us if he wanted to, but he stayed here instead of rashly charging into Metropolis. He never had a plan before. Clearly he – or Marro – has one now.” He pivoted so that he could meet Mayala’s gaze. Gently, he rested his hands on her shoulders. “You are forgetting who Bolivar is.”

“I am not,” she responded with a sigh. “He is the bandit king, the man that loves our Lirael – ”

“And he is the only one to have fought against the king and survive. Countless times has he teased the king by skipping through Metropolis and slipping out just as easily. You must never forget that if anyone could somehow get Lirael, it would be him. I trust him to stay alive. I believe...” He paused, staring distantly at the cottage behind her. His jaw hardened and a familiar, wise spark entered his eyes, making it seem as though all burdens had been lifted from his shoulders, if only for a moment. “I believe that Bolivar and Marro combined make a dangerous foe for even those in Metropolis. Yes, he is the bandit king, Mayala. As such, he is the wisest ruler out of all the landscapes.”

“I hope you are right, Obi.” She wrapped her arms around her brother’s waist. “I will give him two days and then I will See him and Lirael.” She hesitated. “To be honest, I fear what I might See if I Look at Lirael.”

“Never fear her, Mayala,” he murmured. “Fear only for her.”

X

“How shall we do this?” Bolivar murmured, glancing beside him at the male. He had never known the powers of dragons and as Marro had admitted, this was one power that all dragons had kept under careful lock and key. The male beside him looked like another thief from the Mountainlands, except for the flashing eyes that were amber with a thin, black slit as a pupil. The way he walked was more graceful than Bolivar could ever boast of, and his moves were just as quick and deadly.

It is quite simple, my dear bandit king, Marro responded, smiling. Seeing as the Tower of the Eclipse is near the Great Palace, where your King Hazvut lies, we will split up. You know enough magic now, I think, that you can enter without being too bothered. In the meantime, I will find Mikhail – no doubt he is in the Tower – and destroy him and then the very foundations of the place.

“Very well. Can you tell me, just briefly, why the Tower was created in the first place? I always thought it was a simple dungeon whenever I saw it.”

When Amolphor first created the world, he ruled over Metropolis through a sorcerer, one of his creations. They call sorcerers “Amolphor’s Children,” but really, they are more like grandchildren. The dragons – of all elements – are the true children of Amolphor. Metropolis flourished with all the races and my kind built the Tower of the Eclipse, because many humans – a mistake that was borne from the Heavens and the Underworld – caused too much trouble. They planted deceit, greed, and many other evil notions into the minds of the other, more pure, races.

Even though we confined many of those humans who had been overcome by these emotions, there were still other races that were being corrupted, as well. This was what caused the downfall of Metropolis. Amolphor, after his puppet had been destroyed, created the Snowlands, the Waterlands, and the Mountainlands in order to separate good from evil. He bid the sorcerers, through their Seers, to escape to the Snowlands. Any corruption they had eventually died. When the races were separated, Metropolis became better. The Tower still punished those that needed a severe punishment and that was that. Everyone co-existed this way well enough before Hazvut came to the throne.

“And he reawakened the darkness in the humans’ hearts,” Bolivar flatly stated. Marro blinked, looking surprised. “He has been my enemy far too long for me to not understand what is truly happening in Metropolis.”

Indeed. Once Hazvut is destroyed, the poison that is in the bloodstream of Metropolis will slowly evaporate. It is much like the spell I taught Lirael that she used on Keshena. It would not have sped through her so fast and manipulated her into that being had she had a good heart in the being. But since she had such a dark heart, the spell’s effects worked much more quickly. Because Metropolis has a darkness imbedded in it from the blood of innocents and dark emotions of those that once dwelled here, the hearts were transformed nearly at once.

“Hmm...There are some that have good hearts here, Marro. You mustn’t forget that.”

I never do, bandit king. If you recall, Lirael was raised here. The good hearts are the only thing that keep Metropolis from plunging into a gloom that it could not bring itself out of.

Bolivar gave a slight shake of his head, more from disgust than pity. He had never thought of the history of Metropolis because he had no interest in it since Hazvut ruled here. Now that Marro had told him what he knew, he wondered how much longer it would have been until those hearts were torn with dark desires, too.

With a sigh, he raised his head and looked to the sky. They had both agreed that the night would have less people roaming about and they could use an invisibility spell, something Marro had taught Bolivar during the daytime while they were waiting. It was a surprisingly simple spell for such a thing. He had expected invisibility would be far more complex to deal with. All Marro had told him was, You are a quicker learner for a half-breed, just like my favorite.

“Dusk is ending,” Bolivar softly said to the dragon.

And soon twilight will emerge, Marro responded. These people will learn what it means to fear the darkness. The bandit king flashed a quick glance to his companion, noting the eagerness in his voice. He, like any thief from the Mountainlands, enjoyed confrontation, but the excitement and bloodlust in Marro’s voice made even him nervous. This will be enjoyable; that is a promise I can keep.

Let him have his fun, he thought to himself, turning away and keeping himself crouched in the alley beside the dragon, just so long as he comes out with Lirael. “Marro.” He waited for his piercing, inhuman eyes to fix on him. “I have tried many times to kill Hazvut, and it has always failed. What makes you think – ”

You have no one to depend on but yourself this time, Bolivar, he interrupted. You are alone in this venture. It was Amolphor who made things go awry for you, because it was not yet time for Hazvut’s death. I am fairly certain that now is the time for justice.

After a lingering silence, Bolivar turned and said, “I trust you, Marro, I hope you realize that.”

You are Lirael’s lover, Marro replied simply, and I can see that you deserve her. You need not worry that I will betray you, bandit king, for I trust you as much as I trust her. Bolivar gave a swift nod and shifted, returning to his wait.

Some time later, the great clock tower in Metropolis clanged over the relative silence of the night. Bolivar and Marro shifted, tensed, listening to the strikes that the clock counted out.

One...four...six...nine...twelve.

The two exchanged glances and gave barely perceptively nods. They rose to their feet and cast the spell over themselves. Bolivar could feel Marro at his side as they glided through the alleys, moving into the heart of the city. There was no fear that pounded adrenaline into Bolivar’s veins, no anxiety that made his mind light. There was a calm serenity that had been absent the last time he had been in Metropolis with Lirael. Perhaps it was because this time, he had no intentions of losing his partner. This time, he expected victory. He would have victory.

The alleys continued to twist and turn at outrageous angles, but it didn’t bother Bolivar in the least. He had traveled this alleys so many times that it had become natural to dash through them in the middle of the night. Marro followed him, having no conception of how to get to the Great Palace or the Tower of the Eclipse. He relied completely on Bolivar’s sense of direction.

Suddenly, the bandit king stopped, holding out an arm. His eyes darted around in the gloom and he found the opening he searching for. It was a mere slit of an opening and he wedged himself through as he always had and the dragon followed him, just as stealthily. A small shiver ran up his spine as he gazed up at the looming Tower only some feet away from him. Further down the street lay the gates that opened into the Great Palace where two guards would be standing.

Go, Bolivar, Marro urged. We must do this quickly, but efficiently.

Bolivar knew he wouldn’t need to worry about the guards at the gate. He had been inside the palace before, had been in the king’s very bedchambers. Marro had weakened the barriers of Metropolis so that transporting within the walls would be possible for this night. They would finally regret harming the people of a half-breed king. He brought the image of the king’s bedchambers into his mind with ease and a second later, he disappeared.

X

Lirael could hear the hum of voices outside her room, but was deaf to the words. Her body was sticky with sweat that wasn’t hers and fluid on her inner thighs that she chose not to wonder about. She was careful to use her magic to keep herself from conceiving while making certain he wasn’t aware of what she was doing; the last thing she wanted was that bastard’s seed in her.

A small piece of her heart began to tremble and a burst of power exploded in her. Whimpering at this sudden attack, she bit down hard on her lip. The power was familiar, calling out to her. Hesitantly, she sent out a tendril, answering the question that was being asked. Tiny nicks were made in the tendril of power she had sent out. Whoever it was, they were following it and would eventually find her. She only wished she knew who it was. The nicks stopped and her own power was shoved into her with frightening force.

What’s happening? She wondered, opening her ears to sounds again. The voices had stopped and a dead, angry silence filled the space. Who’s here? What’s going on?? She was aware of a gasping, choking sound and a stench that rose from outside her cell. Slowly, so as not to cause any unnecessary harm upon herself, she turned her head, but could see nothing through the dark of her cell. A sudden shriek filled the silence and the hairs on the nape of her neck rose as her heart chilled.

A light filled her cell and she blinked against it as the bulb of light floated over to her, hovering above her. She peered up at the unfamiliar face that gazed down at her. There was a hardness in the face as strange eyes glided over her with brisk, resentful movements.

My favorite, a silky voice filled her mind as amber eyes met hers. Lirael released a low moan, her eyes spilling over. That voice combined with such inhuman eyes made her realize who it was that stood over her. Marro leaned over her and took her face in his hands, resting his cheek against her forehead. They will all pay for what they have done to you. He withdrew and with a jerk of his hand, her bindings snapped off. His eyes turned a dark colour, nearing red as he caught sight of the wounds from her rough bindings. Without any comment, he pulled his cloak off and pulled it around her and collecting her in his arms.

“B...Boli...var?” She rasped, her voice hoarse and quiet from disuse.

You will see him soon, he promised. He watched as she slumped in his arms, a whisper of a sigh escaping her cracked lips. His eyes softened at the relief that flooded onto her face. You will, he added firmly. A corner of her mouth tilted upward in answer.

X

Bolivar tilted his head as he stood over the king’s bed, wondering why such a contented smile lifted his lips in sleep. He traced the weathered face with his dagger, his eyes lazy. He would finish the kill quickly, just as Marro had demanded, but first wanted him to know who it was that killed him. He straightened and pulled the covers off the warm body, letting his invisibility spell drop. Hazvut shivered, but remained asleep.

Just as well, Bolivar thought as he carefully pushed him onto his back and tore the nightshirt off with a quick glide of his dagger. He needs a rough wake-up call tonight. His arm swept across twice in movements too fast to see. Two bloody lines appeared on the tan chest and had the king jerking up, gasping, holding onto his chest as his brows knitted in pain. “Hello, Hazvut.”

Bolivar was not surprised that the simple sound of his voice was enough to make the king lurch towards the other side of the bed. With a graceful arc of his arm, he sent his dagger flying into the older man’s back and had him tumbling off the bed, wheezing. With three long strides he was there beside him, jerking the blade of his dagger out of his back. He wiped it on the bedcovers and turned him over, his eyelids heavy as he knelt next to him. He pulled the clean blade over Hazvut’s throat in a cut that wasn’t quite deep enough to kill. The king panted for breath, the slit in his throat opening wider with every breath he heaved in his chest.

“Perhaps you ought to get information on people before you turn them over to their lecherous uncle, Hazvut,” he suggested. A flicker of understanding passed through the dying gleam of his eyes. He leaned forward to murmur in his ear, “Because that was the one thing that fucked you over.” He withdrew as Hazvut gurgled, blood spilling past his lips. Bolivar stood up and after cleaning his blade a second time, sheathed his dagger and withdrew his sword. He filled the sword with his power so that it would shatter Hazvut’s mind and thrust it into the frail chest, snapping into his heart. A strangled scream erupted from the weakened throat, lasting a short time. For good measure, Bolivar twisted it before removing it. He slowly wiped it, keeping his eyes on Hazvut. After sheathing it, he bent down and checked the pulse.

Satisfied he was well and dead, he took a step back and disappeared to the place he had stood with Marro. He had to dodge from falling stones as soon as he appeared. The tower was crumbling, green-blue flames engulfing it. Cold air struck against him from the flames and he coughed. The air seemed to squeeze against his lungs, attempting to pull him down to death. He hastily turned from the Tower of the Eclipse and scanned the area, looking for either Marro or Lirael.

Here, Marro’s voice beckoned. Here, here. He turned and glanced at the alleyway. He could see the glint of gold eyes peering at him and he dashed towards the alley. Bolivar looked instantly to the bundle Marro had in his arms and felt his stomach drop. Do not worry, bandit king. She is alive. He must leave now. Take her. Bolivar took Lirael and kept her tucked against his chest as Marro hurried past him from the alley. In a white flash, he had transformed into his dragon form. Without waiting, Bolivar went to him and climbed onto his back, pulling his face against the warm scales with Lirael in his arms.

“Go,” Bolivar growled, glancing behind him as people shouted and started towards them. Marro raised his head and let out a roar, red flames spilling from his mouth, raining down on the humans. He pushed up from the ground, his wings beating against the flames, feeding them. It was only when they were high up and passing over the Prairielands that Bolivar allowed himself to relax against the hard body of the dragon beneath him.

X

Lirael felt a warmth that was quite foreign to her. There was a mere soreness in her body that was nothing like the excruciating pain she had experienced before she had fell into unconsciousness. She moved her head to the side and there was no scream from her neck muscles that demanded she not move. Her hair, which had been gritty with oil and dirt, was clean and soft as it once used to be. She opened her eyes to the familiar settings of her room at the cottage in the Snowlands. She looked around and saw her father seated at the end of her bed, staring silently across the room. “Father...?” He started abruptly and jumped out of his seat, swaying unsteadily on his feet.

“Lirael,” he whispered, crumpling on the floor and taking her hand between his two larger ones. “Oh, my daughter...You’re finally awake.”

“How did I get here?”

“Marro brought you from the Tower, don’t you remember?” She nodded, recalling a distant memory of Marro standing above her in her cell. “He...He destroyed the Tower while Bolivar took care of Hazvut. Lirael, Marro killed your uncle. It seems he was outside your cell when Marro arrived.” She gave another nod, remembering that, too.

“Wait.” She sat up, gasping. “Bolivar!”

“He is fine, my dear,” Alexei assured with a weary smile. He sighed and released her hand, getting to his feet gracelessly. He went to her window and stared out of it with a sad expression. “He has proved worthy of you, Lirael.” He glanced towards her. “Everyone else had given up hope – even I did, I confess – but he was so stubborn and refused to believe that it was impossible for you to escape. He has seen things that I haven’t, though, and has been against Hazvut as an enemy longer than I have. It should have been impossible for him to do a lot of things and yet...” He sighed again. “Well. I envy him, I suppose.”

“Can I see him?” She asked. “Or is he resting?”

“You have been asleep for four days, Lirael,” he told her with dry amusement. “I would be worried if he is resting. I will go get him for you. He has been wanting to see you.” He turned and left her room, leaving the door open. She leaned back into the pillows and closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted again. As soon as she heard the soft footsteps that could not possibly be her father’s, her eyes snapped open again.

“Awake, are you?” Bolivar queried with a small smile. Despite his attempt for casualness, she could see the gleam of concern in his eyes.

“Yes...” She couldn’t guess why, but she felt shy with him just then. It seemed like decades instead of days since she last saw him. Wordlessly, she raised her arms and he went to her, gathering her up against him as she circled her arms around his neck. Lirael closed her eyes, her face pressed into his neck. Although he hadn’t been in the Mountainlands lately, he smelled like the sands and cool freshness of the landscape, and of brandy and some spice, combining together in a scent that reminded her only of him. Her mouth trembled and she tightened her grip, trying not to cry.

He’s really here. He’s alive. I’m alive. Softly, she wept, knowing all the while that he was aware of it as her tear-stained cheeks pressed against his skin. He didn’t speak, but pulled her closer, stroking her back comfortingly.

X

Bolivar sat with his head buried in his arms at the kitchen table. Mayala hadn’t told him to take his arms from the table as she might have, but let him stay in that position. When Alexei drifted in, she gave them both cups of hot tea, not saying a word. Bolivar pushed himself from the table, pushing his long hair from his face, bunching his hand in it as he gazed down at the cup. “I have to go tonight,” he mumbled.

“That would be wise,” Mayala agreed, wiping up the drops of tea Alexei had spilled from his angry jerk. She gave him a sharp look and continued, “Your landscape needs their king.” Bolivar continued to stare at the tea, his eyes gradually narrowing into a glare as though it had been taunting him the entire time.

“Are you being sarcastic?” He released his hair and glowered at Mayala.

“No, Bolivar, I am not,” she assured gently, smiling at him. “You brought Lirael home. She is safe now – you are safe now. Everything is as it should be. The Mountainlands need the bandit king home for awhile until one of you can come to a decision. I only ask that you don’t go sneaking out like a...” She trailed off, looking uncomfortable. He smiled bitterly.

“Like a thief? Have you forgotten that I am a thief?”

“Just please tell Lirael before you leave. It’s only fair.” He lifted the cup of tea and drank from it, a gloomy expression on his face. It was clear that he had wanted one of them to tell her instead of himself. “Are you afraid that she will hate you if you leave?”

“I’m afraid she’ll cry if I leave,” he corrected. Alexei had remained silent throughout the entire exchange, watching Bolivar with an antagonistic expression.

“Then why not wait until she’s a bit better?” He snapped irritably. “She’s only just woken up! You might as well have left as soon as you and Marro delivered her here.”

“No, I couldn’t have,” Bolivar snarled back, slamming the cup on the table. He got to his feet, shoving the chair back violently. “Do you think I have no brain? Marro didn’t have to tell me for me to know that she would want to see me as soon as she woke up. I could never have left her here without speaking to her, even if it was just ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye.’ I don’t want to leave, but my mind is plagued by how I abandoned Juran and Endera, for that much. I should have been the one to help her transition from her two homes.” He paced angrily in the kitchen, looking distraught. “I am not some fucking sorcerer!” He howled abruptly, turning to face Alexei. “I’m a bandit, damn you! I was never pure-hearted from the start! What do you want from me?”

“I want,” Alexei told him in a slow, crisp tone, “for you to marry my daughter.” Bolivar froze, looking a bit ill.

“I can’t marry her,” he choked.

“Why not?”

“Look at me!” He thrust a finger towards his chest. “Look at who I am! Remember who I am, what I’ve done! Until Juran is prepared to take over as my heir, I have my landscape hovering over my head, pulling me around like a puppet. Once he is ready, then I can do anything I want, which would all be for her. I can’t keep explaining this to the same people: I have a landscape to rule! It’s unstable right now!”

“Fine. But you will marry her eventually, Bolivar. If you don’t, then you’re a blackguard like every other thieving male.” The bandit king’s face turned dark at the implication. Instead of responding, he whipped around and left the kitchen in a huff.

“Why did you have to work him up like that, Obi?” Mayala murmured with a sigh.

“Because he needs to think past his people, his friend, and himself. He needs to think of Lirael. Without him, she’ll turn into a husk and you know that well, Mayala.”

X

After his spat with Alexei, Bolivar went outside to storm through the thick snow and rage at himself. When he returned, he packed his small amount of belongings and that night, he visited Lirael in her room. He couldn’t explain to anyone how reluctant he was to tell her that he had to leave. He wanted to plant himself in her room and watch over her day and night, but he had responsibilities. He wasn’t sure if Juran hadn’t experienced problems from the stubborn traitors that had been revolting against him since he first came to the throne. He had no possible notion as to how things were going in the Mountainlands and he had been worrying over that fact for too long now.

He didn’t immediately come to his point for his visit as he sat beside Lirael’s bed, letting the silence draw out for as long as he could. The candlelight flickered over her smooth, porcelain-coloured face. Sighing, he looked away and said, “I have to leave for awhile.”

“I know.” He turned in surprise and met her calm, blue depths. “I am not stupid, Bolivar, nor am I weak. Everyone else tried to pretend you were staying, but I know you too well. You’re worrying over your people and I understand completely. I would like for you to stay, but I know better than to assume you would.” She reached out and took his hand, running her fingers over the curves of his palm. “You’ll come back, though, won’t you?”

“You know that I will.” She smiled and raised his hand, kissing it.

“If you don’t come back soon, I will come to you.” She sat back and he could see that she meant it. “I love the Snowlands, but there is an extent to how much I love them. With you...there is no extent.”

“I will come back, Lirael, but you have to give me time. There is no reason you should leave – ”

“No, Bolivar,” she interrupted, “there is no reason why you should leave. I have no connections other than my family here. With you, on the other hand, it is much more complex. There is no reason why you should rush Juran to learn his training.” She reached up and smoothed her fingers over his cheek. “For now, I will visit you in the Mountainlands. After things are settled, we will see what happens. Does that sound fair enough?” He caught her hand and leaned over, brushing a kiss over her mouth.

“Fair enough.”

She smiled suddenly. “Father has every intention on getting me married. He ranted to me about it earlier, telling me all the morbid things he would do to particular parts of your anatomy if you failed him and ended up as just another rogue.” Bolivar blinked, surprised. “So. My question is this: are we going to get married or are you going to lose your manhood after several different torture methods?”

“We’ll get married,” he cautiously answered, “but that, too, will have to wait until after things are settled.”

“Alright. I think I can wait that long for a husband.” He chuckled.

“Good, because I’ve been waiting all my life for a wife.”

Landscape: Epilogue

Juran took a long drink of his wine and glanced nervously across the room. Lirael stood beside him, smiling expectantly. He refilled his wine glass and her smile hardened. They had agreed they would have the wedding in the Mountainlands because of the milder climate. Her visits throughout the two years had brought her closer to the citizens of the Mountainlands and they learned not to fear her. She had also learned of a hesitant romance between her friend and Juran, although the latter seemed bent on destroying his chances.

“Juran, you are the bandit king now,” she told him, her smile slipping from her face, her eyes turning into icy, cobalt glaciers in her fair-skinned face. “Bolivar has been over there entertaining Endera for five minutes and you’ve stood here drinking wine. By the time you get over there, you’ll be too foxed to say anything that she would pay any attention to.” He shot her a scathing look. To provoke him, as any adopted sister would, she added, “You are acting like a coward.”

“I am not a coward!” He growled loudly. “This is your wedding, Lirael, shouldn’t you and Bolivar be somewhere private?”

“Yes,” she answered calmly, “but I intend on getting you across this room and talking to Endera. It’s so obvious she likes you. She’s been looking around the room the entire time Bolivar’s been talking.” He continued to look surly, so she looped an arm around his and pulled him through the crowds. He muttered venomously, but allowed her to drag him towards the two. Endera positively beamed when she saw them.

“Lirael!” She threw her arms around her friend and then smiled shyly at Juran, peering up at him through her lashes. Bolivar smirked at Juran over her head, looking entirely too smug for his liking. Juran felt awkward. He, once one of the most lecherous thieves in the Mountainlands, and a blackguard on top of it all! He wondered if this was how Bolivar had felt with Lirael in the beginning. “Hello, Juran.” He blinked quickly at the slightly husky tone her voice took. He glanced down at the female beside him and saw her eyebrows twitch slightly in surprise. He would have rather Bolivar have the deceptive chit in front of him so he could have Lirael, who had never caused him this discomfort, but a racing lust. He would so much rather prefer that over...this.

Bolivar turned his head slightly as the orchestra started on a slow, easing ballad. He took Lirael from Juran and leaned down, molding his mouth to hers. “A dance, for my beautiful wife?” He suggested, resting his cheek against hers. She gave a dreamy smile and nodded assent. Juran watched in dismay as he was left with Endera.

“Shall we dance, too, Juran?” She asked, her cheeks going a bit pink. He wished he had fallen for someone who wasn’t so outspoken and bold. He would be able to make all the decisions himself.

“Of course,” he murmured.

Lirael watched them descend into the crowds and, satisfied, she turned back to her husband, giving a beatific smile. “I suppose Endera distracted Juran a bit from his training,” she remarked. Bolivar chuckled, an amused expression flashing across his face. Taking that for an answer, she cuddled close to him, her body flush against his. His hands skimmed over her derriere and up her back as he shifted against her.

“We can be just as distracting,” Bolivar assured with a wicked grin. Her cheeks became hot and she ducked her head against his chest. He laughed and drew her face up, kissing her softly on the mouth. “But it wasn’t just Endera that was distracting.” He arched a brow at her. “My mind did tend to wander.”

“I imagine it did.” Her lips curled upward pleasantly. “I love you.”

He rested his forehead against hers as he murmured, “I know. I love you, too.”

Finis

X

Kanna-sama: I have never done very well at endings, but this will have to do. This was one of my longer stories and I have to admit that I’m kind of proud of it. In any case, I am considering over a sequel, though it won’t be entirely centered around Lirael and Bolivar. In any case, for now I shall go and relax. Ciao!