[Epilogue]

Annabelle was waiting at the gate, jumping up with a wide smile and a wave as soon as she saw the mule ambling up the hill. Kate smiled back, her heart warmed by the gesture of her friend. She dismounted and was greeted with a tight hug that made the trip worth the hours in the saddle.

"So, what's in this mysterious package?" asked Annabelle.

"You mean you haven't looked?" teased Kate.

"That would be tampering with the mail, and I'd only do that if I thought it would make you get here faster." Annabelle pulled her mouth into a mock pout, and Kate laughed.

"I have no idea," she admitted. "I'm as curious as you are."

Leading the mule, talking and laughing, the two women entered Redmont. They passed Baron Araldt in the courtyard, looking over a new, lighter, warhorse for his stables. His head was turned and eyes caught by the unusual sight of a ranger cloak in the company of a mule.

Kate waved. "Just visiting, Baron. No official business this trip."

Arald nodded, bemused. "Oh, I see. You ladies have fun then." He nodded again, beyond the point where anything would surprise him, when he saw Lady Pauline exit the keep, gather her skirts in one hand, and hurry down the stairs to join the other two. Rangers and Couriers. He didn't think he'd ever understand them, even if they were some of his best friends.

The mysterious package was a long, thin, crate not quite square on the ends. It was about four feet long and one foot thick. The wood had been splintered during shipment. When Annabelle dragged it out from underneath the sofa where it had been waiting, Kate had to press her knuckles to her lips. She recognized the shape. She suspected Annabelle had as well; the other woman was married to a knight, after all.

"Are you all right?" asked Lady Pauline, laying a hand on Kate's shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

"Of course!" said Kate, briskly. She dropped her hands to her sides, dusting them on the hem of her tunic. Kneeling, she drew her saxe knife to cut the seal on the rope binding the crate together. Someone had used a heated knife-point to burn the address into the side:

M. Shannon

care of Lady Annabelle of Redmont

Redmont Fief, Araluen

Tucked just inside the cover, riding atop a nest of aromatic cedar shavings, was a letter with the same address. Kate recognized the handwriting and she smiled fondly as she picked it up. But it was what lay beneath that had everyone so interested. Kate felt around, letting the shavings tickle her palm until she met with a hard leather case—and beneath the first, another.

She gasped and plunged in her other hand to draw forth two sheathed swords. The shavings fell away, leaving Kate staring at a matched set. "Sacré-cœur," she breathed, the Gallic the most acceptable way she could think of to express her feelings. "He sent them both."

Annabelle didn't even look offended. "What does it mean?"

Kate held the smaller sword a little higher before laying it crosswise across the open crate. "This one was mine." It had been crafted to meet her exact specifications, lean and balanced; a finer version of the cavalry sword she had in her other hand. The blade had etching near the hilt and there was silver wire on the grip. The chape on the scabbard was plain, the enameled design pried out by a jeweler and oiled to weather the finish underneath. Kate appreciated the thoroughness. "The other..."

She patted the letter she had yet to read, and swallowed down the tears that threatened to make speaking difficult.

"...The other belonged to my husband."

Sean Marc had sent her sword as a gift, support for her new vocation. He'd sent his father's to express his conviction that Marc Shannon would be glad his wife hadn't turned to piracy after all, that he'd be proud of her too. He'd sent the letter to thank her for taking Pauline and Annabelle's advice and writing to him.