In a rare occasion of fortune for Micah and Charlotte, the heavy rain reduced to a mere mist the day they reached the base of the Mosaics, and while the winding road up the Mountain of the Wolf was so heavy laden with snow as to render it nearly indiscernible, they could at least remain dry while traversing it.

  The rain had frustrated the pace of their trek, as Micah’s chariot couldn’t be used over the wet roads. But he no longer felt the urgency from before. Marshall Kalem would no longer track them. From his own experience, Micah knew the man would have other pressing things on his mind and heart when he revived. Even so, he kept a watchful eye, ever more determined to guard Charlotte’s safety and ensure she never suffered the ordeals to which she had become so accustomed.

  As they rode their Black Cherry horses up the peak at a relaxed pace, he watched her closely as she talked to John Halifax with her usual effervescence. She sat on the horse as relaxed as one might upon a lounge chair. With experience and ease, she directed her mare along the road with casual massages against the animal’s neck. When they had purchased the horses in a small town the day before, Charlotte insisted on relieving hers of the bit and bridle, instead choosing to negotiate with the horse directly. She spoke with the mare for but a few minutes, and soon they had a complete understanding of one another, and the horse agreed to take Charlotte wherever she wished.

  She wore a stunning white dress, thick, fluffy and warm, with hints of periwinkle silk. Despite riding a wet horse and the ever present mud and snow, it remained spotless and she kept warm. No longer was Micah surprised by her attire in such odd places; in fact he came to appreciate her insistence of it. It was now almost a month since his heart had been freed, but still he had not come across a beauty to rival hers. And he realized that just looking at her provided him some amount of pleasure he couldn’t quite describe. “Eye candy” his comrades at Soto Silver once called it. He now understood the turn of phrase well, when before it had befuddled him.

  A rose blush filled her cheeks in the cold, but she was comfortable on her horse and talked with her typical animation. A delicate parasol in one hand shielded her from the sparse snowfall while the other hand never rested, going to great lengths to aid her discussion with excited gestures. Like Micah, John listened with rapt attention, seeming intoxicated by her.

  “And that’s when I realized broccoli and I would never come to a mutual understanding, and we’ve not had contact with each other since.” She giggled, musical laughter carrying through the quiet morning air.

  John laughed with her. A wide smile hadn’t abandoned his face since the night they left the Twin Cities. “So, tell me about your upbringing, Ms. Goodsteel. Where are you from?”

  “Oh…” Her smile disappeared, and a troubled look came over her.

  Micah sat up in interest. Charlotte had avoided talking about her past since the night they met, and he had respected her privacy by avoiding prying questions. But he was immensely curious.

  “If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to answer,” John said quickly.

  She looked from Micah to John, debate filling her expression. “It’s not uncomfortable…”

  An obvious lie, but they didn’t prod her.

  “My parents are from Carnel,” she began carefully. “But they moved to Rypsy after getting married, where my father took up post as Counselor to the Chevron of Astenbury. My sister and I were born in Astenbury, a lovely town south of the Bon Eden. I had a normal childhood, or normal by aristocratic standards, until a few months ago, when my parents suddenly decided to send me to Carnel to continue my education in my homeland…”

  Her voice trailed off, a faraway look in her eyes. “They said it would be good for me…” She recovered, smiling. “As you can tell, my experience in this country has been anything but.”

  “So, you’re returning home, then?”

  “No. Fleeing Carnel is essential, but we’ve never talked about what we are going to do after we cross the strait. Right, Micah?”

  The question caught him off guard. “Uh… correct. Our present concern is escaping Carnel, where the danger of trackers and assassins is much less severe.”

  “No doubt,” John replied. “Carnel will never be a safe place for either of you, not as long as men like Nathanial Vash exist. I’m afraid your home is forever lost to you.”

  Charlotte looked at Micah with sympathetic eyes, but he smiled. “I have never had a home, so I’ll just have to make one elsewhere.”

  She smiled at that, resuming to chat about non-familial topics, which they were readily available to hear once more. The Mountain of the Wolf was one of the higher mountains in the range, if not the highest, and the cold deepened as they ascended. For several hours, they climbed a snail’s pace up the snowy crag, weaving in and through thick pine forests and daunting, jagged rock formations.

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  Just when Charlotte was beginning to whimper from fatigue, they emerged from the thickest weald yet, riding into a wide glen. John stopped his horse, and they did likewise. A level plane opened before them, full of snow clumped with brown grasses. It was deathly quiet – only the faint exhale of a distant wind met their ears.

  “Pretty,” Charlotte said. She sniffed, wiping her moist nose with an embroidered handkerchief. “Why did we stop?”

  “We’re on Lord Kyba’s lands now,” John said. “We should wait for him.”

  “How will he know we’re here?” she asked.

  “He’ll know. He always does.”

  “John, I’m getting cold now. Isn’t there anywhere we could wait besides here?”

  Micah reached into one of his jacket pockets, producing an Element Stone. “Blue Bell,” he uttered with a flick of his wrist. Snow lifted off the ground to surround his hand in a halo. The water melted, forming a smooth sphere, then solidifying. A spark of red flame ignited from the stone, shooting into the glass ball. A small fire akin to candlelight remained floating in the midst of the ball, making it glow.

  Micah picked the crystal globe out of the air and offered it to her. Having watched in amazement, she readily accepted it. “Oh, it’s warm!” she exclaimed. She placed it in her lap and let her hands rest over the object while Micah created a similar one for John. Content with the fire, they waited on their horses until something should happen.

  In the silence, Micah observed John. As was becoming more and more frequent, a sadness came over the man. His eyes filled with doubt and remorse, brow furrowed and hands clenched together. It hadn’t been expressly stated, but Micah figured out days earlier what was really happening. For a thousand years, Lord Kyba of Canis hadn’t just been waiting for the Moon Eye Child. Or at least, he wasn’t just waiting for her to end the Age of Angels, whatever that was.

  He was waiting to die.

  From John’s words to his emotional instability, it was obvious. Micah was surprised Charlotte hadn’t realized it yet, and he feared when she would. How would she react when she finally understood that a person she never met had been waiting for her to deliver his death sentence?

  After about half an hour, true to John’s words, a figure emerged from the forests on the other side of the glen. John dismounted, followed by Micah and Charlotte, and they approached. The old man was nothing like the fey wizard Micah expected. Despite the frigid cold, he wore nothing but ragged clothes and a simple pair of sandals. Frail with a bald head and sparse beard, he still had strong posture, even with a hunch – his age seemed closer to sixty, rather than a thousand. But he had no weapons or tools, no belt or pack. Was this truly the Rinx Lord of legend that Biblio and John described?

  “Who’re these people?” he grunted with a cranky scowl when they met. “I don’t throw dinner parties, Halifax. What is this about?”

  “Good evening, my Lord,” John said in a cracked voice. Moisture filled his eyes, but he was trying to remain steady. He lifted a hand to the left. “This is Micah sinChamplain.”

  Kyba harrumphed. “A goon. The true Black Sons are long gone, replaced by puppets. Don’t try nothing funny, lad. You hear me?”

  “He’s a friend!” John said. “You don’t have to worry.”

  He sneered, revealing severely yellow teeth. “And who’s the missy?”

  Charlotte squeaked in surprise, stepping further behind Micah and clutching to his jacket.

  “Step out from behind there,” he growled. “C’mon now.”

  She slowly stepped back out, keeping close to Micah.

  “This is Charlotte Goodsteel,” John said. “She… she…”

  His composure was starting to give way, and Kyba looked at him in absurdity. “Are you crying? What’s the matter with you?”

  “Sir…” Micah said. Kyba switched attention. Micah stepped behind Charlotte, putting his hands on her arms. “This is Charlotte Goodsteel. She is the Moon Eye Child.”

  Instant silence.

  The old Avalon’s scowl was lost to the frigid wind, all traces gone in moments. He looked at her, staring straight into her eyes. The look was tantamount to devastation mixed with unparalleled hope – a look Micah realized only someone in Kyba’s situation could possibly produce. He truly had been waiting for this… waiting, watching, possibly doubting she might ever come. His look said absolutely everything.

  Charlotte shuddered, stepping back into Micah’s body. But he whispered in her ear. “It’s alright.” He gently pushed her forward, and Kyba approached, snow crunching beneath his sandals.

  “Hello, sir,” she said after a long moment, wringing her hands.

  Kyba slowly reached out, careful not to frighten her. With all gentleness, he cupped her face in his gnarled hands.

  “Are you… truly the one to deliver me?” he whispered.

  “I-I don’t know what you mean,” she replied. Somehow, the warmth of his hands made her fear dissipate. The old man holding her now seemed more afraid than she was, and she felt pity for him.

  “Please…” he whispered again. Tears now began to form in his eyes. “Please show me your eyes.”

  His right eye ignited with purple light, far more intense than anything her own eye could muster. Even so, she obliged, activating the Full Moon to mirror his. Her own right eye burned purple fire, electric and bright.

  He issued a paltry laugh. “It’s in your right eye, just as she told me so long ago…” he said. “Now one more… one more to prove you are the one sent to me.”

  Charlotte nodded, and the light in her eye yielded, shrinking down so that a sliver of the blue remained. Waxing Gibbous. Using it, she could see he had no intent to harm her, and she relaxed in his hold of her face.

  Tears fell more freely as he suddenly kissed her forehead and embraced her. “You dear child… you poor, dear child. How I wish you could know what your presence here means to me.”

  For a long while, he held her, a cantankerous Rinx Lord reduced to a broken old man. Despite not understanding the reason, Charlotte embraced him and cried with him. John, also, was reduced to sobs, leaving Micah standing to the side feeling very uncomfortable. After a long while, Kyba parted from Charlotte, wiping his eyes but keeping her close.

  “Look at us, a bunch of sniveling fools,” he growled, much less severe in tone than before. “C’mon now. Let’s get inside, get a fire going, get dinner going.”

  Charlotte wiped her eyes and clapped her hands. “That sounds wonderful. I am very hungry.”

  He smiled at her with warmth. “Tonight we celebrate, little missy. And you are my most honored guest.”