Paladin

Chapter 38 - Fin (Epilogue)

Sam and Braeden rode out early the next morning on borrowed horses. The horses would carry them as far as Southport, and from there they would need to hire a ship with a willing captain and crew to take them across the Rheic Ocean. The horses would find their way back home, Sander had assured them.

But before they could leave Luca, a small troop of armed men blocked their exit at the east archway, where Sam had first crossed into the city months back. They weren't Uriel; she recognized their faces from Haywood. The men belonged to her father.

Sam drew her horse to a halt. "What does he want?" she asked the leader among them, a stocky man with a naturally red face. Braeden brought his stallion by hers.

The leader shifted on his mount. "He didn't say, milady. He only said to ask you to wait here for him until he arrives."

Sam's eyebrows rose. "He asked?" The Duke of Haywood did not ask; he ordered.

"Those were his words, milady."

Sam nudged her horse forward. "Move out of the way," she said, "or I will make you." She didn't have time for her father's nonsense. Whatever he wanted, it wouldn't be good.

 "Sam, maybe we should wait," Braeden said, quiet enough that his voice wouldn't carry to the others.

She whirled around in her saddle, glaring at him. "Why should we do that?"

"Because he's your father."

Sam snorted through her nose. "Braeden, you met the man. I'm not exactly the apple of his eye. He probably wants to haul me back to Haywood."

Braeden shrugged his shoulders. "Sometimes people can surprise you."

She would have argued further, but the sound of frantic galloping drew her attention away. The Duke of Haywood was bent low over his horse's neck, his usually coiffed hair streaming in a wild halo behind him. He slowed when he neared them, pulling short on the reins. The duke sagged against his mount and wiped sweat from his brow. "You didn't leave," he said, panting for breath.

"Not for lack of trying," said Sam. Her gaze roamed over his uncharacteristically disheveled appearance. "Aren't you a bit old to be riding like that?"

His jaw tightened but his voice was even when spoke. "I've not got one foot in the grave yet."

Sam lifted her chin and stared him straight in the eye. "Come to stop me?" she asked, with a hint of challenge.

"As if I could," he scoffed. A reluctant smile flickered across his lips.

She didn't understand the source of his smile or his choice of words. "Well, you couldn't," she said without heat. "Why are you here, your Grace?"

The muscles of his throat flexed as he swallowed. "Branimir informed me of your plans. It is no small journey, nor an easy one."

"I know," she said, unfazed. "You will not deter me." She glanced over at Braeden, who gripped his reins with white, tightfisted hands. "I have made my choice, and I am happy with it."

 "You have always known your mind, Samantha. I am no longer fool enough to believe you will change it, no matter what I wish for you." The duke sighed. "I came here to tell you that whatever happens on this soil or in Yemara, you will be welcome in Haywood. It is your home."

She shook her head jerkily. She'd left behind her childhood there, but nothing else. "My home is not in Haywood. It's with him." She tilted her head towards Braeden. He reached across the space between their horses and threaded his fingers through hers.

The duke's expression was unreadable. "You are my heir, Samantha. When I die, Haywood will be yours, whether you want it or not."

"What about the High Commander?" she asked. "Surely he would not permit a traitor to inherit."