Page 142 of Swords of Soul and Shadow (Gate Chronicles #3)

LE MORTE D’ARTHUR

Ten Years Later

Jove

IN THE DECADE SINCE THE Gates War, the city of Kyvena had changed little. After months of repair, much of the city was back to its normal functionality, but it had taken years to dull the scars left behind in the minds of the citizens.

The leading scholars estimated nearly five thousand people were lost over the course of the war that had only lasted a few months, though some argued the Great War had never ended that day nearly twenty-five years ago when Ezekiel Fairchild had been executed, though all agreed that all conflict finally resolved on July 20, 4501, known as Gates Armistice Day, when Jove—reinstated as High Guardsman—the City Governors, and King Asa aven d’Correa signed the Armistice Treaty after a few months of negotiations.

That was also the day Hallie Walker, now Shackley, restored electricity to Kyvena with the help of Felyra and Saldr.

The King himself financed the rebuilding of the city with the coffers General Marcos Correa had stockpiled in Sol Adrid. That was before Ben Reiss—an entirely separate man, of course—had been exiled for his war crimes.

Jove and the remaining Council members from across the country met and decided it best to let him live, as creating a power vacuum with their neighbor was hardly in their best interest. Thanks to the evidence presented by Saldr, Felyra, and the other Yalvs, it was proven Ben had not been in his right mind when attacking both Myrrai and Kyvena, courtesy of the malevolent power he wielded.

Didn’t erase his crimes, but it allowed a more lenient sentence.

It’d taken Jove ten years to be able to walk the streets on Gates Armistice Day.

It would take him a few more to make a speech on it.

They asked him every year, but he’d always passed that duty to Saldr or Anderson Enright—healed once Hallie Walker and King Asa had forged the third Gate and who had most recently been elected Stradat.

They had always been better with people, and Jove had no words that could describe what he’d felt that fateful day or in the ones that followed.

He’d healed from them physically, but the emotional scars ran deep.

Clara, his sons, and their little one on the way were what got him through and kept him pushing forward trying to make Jayde the best it could possibly be while still respecting its shortcomings.

With them and the nation depending on him, he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol since the night the city fell.

A promise he’d finally kept.

Sammy and Jonathan ran ahead down the lane, racing toward the monument waiting at the end. Jonathan was three years Samuel’s junior, but the boys were fast friends, and they always got into the most trouble whenever Arthur Jack tagged along.

The sight of the three boys together always brought tears to his eyes because all he could think about was another set of three boys traipsing through the city streets or in the Manor’s courtyard.

Clara’s hand slipped into his. “It’s rather hot today.” She squeezed his fingers lightly. “Why don’t we grab some ice cream on the way home?”

A parlor had recently opened in the market square near the Manor. Jove chuckled a little, breaking his melancholy. “When do you not want to stop for ice cream on the way home?”

Clara rubbed a hand over her swollen stomach and smiled. “If you want Miravel to like you, you’ll buy her mama a chocolate sundae. Extra cherries.”

“I still don’t think it’s a girl,” Jove said, bringing her hand to his lips and giving it a soft kiss.

“Well, love, you’re wrong, and you’ll eat your words soon.” She gave him a full-toothed grin. “And then you can bring me double the ice cream.”

Jove wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “I’ll do that anyway.”

With most people celebrating in the public squares, hearing speeches, and purchasing gifts for loved ones, the lane they walked down was mostly empty. The occasional bark of a dog or the soft echoes of the nearby square interrupted the solitude every few steps.

“Happy Gates!” a middle-aged woman greeted from where she decorated her shop door with bright yellow flowers looped together along the frame.

“Happy Gates to you,” Clara said with a wave.

Jove tipped his bowler at the woman with a small smile. They walked a little further only greeting a few other stragglers who had yet to make their way to the celebrations. At the end stood the memorial his sons now chased each other around.

Jove and his family would be dining with Saldr, Felyra, and their children later that evening as was their yearly tradition. The Passages to the Yalven lands were open once more with the treaty signed.

Usually, Kase’s family would join, but they’d recently returned from Cerulene and would be leaving on a trip to Crystalfell soon. They’d visit once the baby arrived. Newly postpartum, Clara would appreciate some painting time with Hallie.

“Sammy, Jon, come here, will you?” Clara said, slipping away from Jove and going to wrangle her children.

His mother was set to arrive soon to fetch the boys. With the school year finishing and the baby due any day, it would be best if they stayed a few weeks out in the little hamlet of Windwick where his mother had taken up residence.

Once the baby came, she would come visit with the boys before staying a while to help them all settle in as a family of five.

His mother finally got to return to life in the countryside, though she split her time between the Manor, which now belonged to Jove, and her modest cottage. If Jove hadn’t taken on his High Guardsman duties once more, he might’ve moved his family out there as well, but somehow he doubted it.

All his life, he’d been wary of his childhood home because the memories he’d lived there were quite painful. But now, with the life he and Clara had breathed into it, it finally felt like home. He felt a part of its history and couldn’t imagine raising his family anywhere else.

Clara had also put the surviving oddly colored fruit paintings into storage and replaced them with her own works, which—in Jove’s opinion—had made all the difference.

“Mama, Mama, Mama!” Jon cried, trying to climb up the fence surrounding the dark obelisk at the center of a small court. Benches dotted the outer edge, and red and blue flowers bloomed in the space between the fence and the monument.

“Yes, dearest?” Clara said, coming to stand beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder to keep him grounded.

“I wanna read the names. Sammy says Grandpa’s name’s there! And Grammy’s!”

Clara smiled and pointed halfway up the pillar. “There, Miravel Davey. That’s who baby Rav will be named after.”

Her voice only strained once, but she swallowed hard. The years had made the loss easier to stand, but the ache would never truly leave. Jove stepped up beside her, giving the top of her head a soft kiss before setting a hand on Jon’s other shoulder. Sammy came up beside him.

Jove pointed to a name near the bottom. “And that’s Grandpa’s. Can you read it?”

Jon’s head bobbed. “Har…Har-lan Shack -ley.”

Jove’s stomach hardened at the sound of his father’s name on his son’s lips.

He didn’t think the guilt mixed with the relief and pride of his father’s last actions in life would ever fade entirely.

He’d hated the man, but in the end, he’d saved Kase.

In the end, he’d tried, and it was enough for Jove to offer him a hint of respect all these years later.

Because without that sacrifice, Jove’s sons would have been reading their uncle’s name engraved upon the polished black stone instead.

Jove squeezed his shoulder. “That’s right. He and Grammy fought to keep us safe, and we’re thankful for their sacrifice.”

Jon still hadn’t quite grasped that concept, but he nodded enthusiastically before dashing off around the court again.

Jove would fight any enemy, any battle for him to stay so carefree. That was why he agreed to step into the High Guardsman role at the end of the war, and he would stay as long as he was needed.

Samuel stayed a while longer, gazing up at it. “I was there, right?”

Jove knelt, taking his eldest son’s hands in his. His blue eyes were just as bright as the day he’d been born, a light in the darkness. “You were, and you are the reason we’re still here today.”

“Really?” the boy asked, skeptical.

“Really,” Jove said, reaching up and ruffling his tight curls. Samuel nodded and ran off after his brother, the serious slant of his brow gone with a game of their own making.

Jove rose, grimacing at the creak in his knees as he did so. Clara laughed at him, but he rolled his eyes and pulled her to his side. “I can’t help it.”

“At least you’re not cramping all over,” she chuckled, patting his chest as he led her from the court.

He gestured for his sons to follow. “Let’s go get some ice cream, shall we?” She leaned her head against his shoulder as he said, “Unless you’re trying to tell me our new little boy is on the way. Was that why you suggested we walk?”

She just laughed. “A lady never reveals her secrets.”

His wife molded her body into his as they walked away from the memorial.

So much had changed in the ten years since, and all of it for the better.

When he felt the pull toward his vices and that deep, dark sadness that waited at the edge of his memory, he remembered all the good there was in the world and all the good that was to come.

Many times he wished Zeke, Ana, and even Harlan were there to watch his children grow into adults, to see the families his siblings would have created and the grandfather Harlan might’ve been, but Jove was the man he was today because of both the light and the dark.

Time healed all wounds, but for the moment, he was thankful for scars.

Kase