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imself watched。
Gaborn whispered； 〃I reject you； Raj Ahten。 I will destroy you。〃 Gaborn raised a fist in the sign of challenge。 But if the men on the far hill made any gestures of their own； he could not see。 They merely turned their mounts and galloped over the crest of the hill。
Even with an army； Gaborn realized； I couldn't catch Raj Ahten now。
Yet in his heart； Gaborn felt some relief。 He loved this land； as his father had。 They had wanted nothing more than to drive Raj Ahten from it； keep it beautiful and free。 For a time； perhaps； they had succeeded。
But at what price？
Gaborn glanced down at his feet。 The snow had fallen after Raj Ahten's descent。 Yet the scent of both Gaborn's father and the Wolf Lord lingered here。 The metallic tang of blood。
So； Gaborn surmised； Raj Ahten had e here； had seen the clouds of Gaborn's passage； the distant herds of cattle and soldiers mingled together； had fallen for the ruse。
That gave Gaborn some fort。 Raj Ahten could be fooled； could be beaten。
Gaborn circled the tower； tried to see down into the woods。 He imagined his father and Raj Ahten struggling on the tower； until at last； perhaps； his father was thrown over。
He looked down； saw what he dreaded： at the base of the observatory； among the rocks； a hand thrust up； dead fingers clutching a palm full of snow。
Gaborn raced down the winding stairs； found his father； and pulled at the corpse； shaking it to clear the snow off。
What he saw broke his heart。 For on his father's frozen face was a broad smile。 Perhaps in death； some fleeting memory had made him smile。 Or perhaps it was but a grimace of pain。 Yet Gaborn imagined that his father smiled at him； as if to congratulate him for his victory。
Chapter 57
TODAY I AM DEATH
Gaborn had already ridden ahead when Iome's glamour returned。 Iome had no idea how Raj Ahten's vector had died； felt little relief at the woman's passing。 Like Iome； the woman had been a mere tool in Raj Ahten's hand； one that was poorly used。
Yet Iome's beauty returned。 She felt it as an easing of her heart； a return of her confidence。 Like a flower blossoming。
Yet it was not the unnatural beauty she'd had since birth； not the borrowed glamour。 The skin on her hands softened and lost their wrinkles。 The blush of youth returned to her cheeks。 For once in her life； for the first time； Iome was simply herself； without benefit of endowments。
It was enough。 She wished that Gaborn could have been here to see； but he had ridden ahead。
Though messengers from Longmont had told Iome what to expect when she reached the castle； had said that Raj Ahten had destroyed it with a shout； nothing they said could have prepared her for the ruin。
She rode at the head of ten thousand people from out of Groverman and the villages round about。 Many of the women had already turned back； heading for their own hearths； their own homes。 Their work here was done。
But others followed Iome； particularly people who'd lived in Longmont； who had e to see what was left of their homes。
As they neared the ruined castle； saw the empty fields with wolves slinking about the hedgerows； many women and children began crying for what they'd lost。
They'd deserted their homes three days ago； but a few days of huddling under ragged shelters at Groverman had shown them just how difficult it would be to make do once the snows fell。
Certainly； most of them hoped to e home； to rebuild。 But in hard times； with war approaching； Iome's people could not rebuild without some nearby fortification。
The castle was nearly ruined。 Huge blocks of stone that had lain in place for twelve centuries now lay cracked and shattered。
Almost subconsciously； Iome began calculating what it would take to repair the fortress： five hundred stonemasons out of Eyremoth； for they were the best。 Carters to drag the stones； Frowth giants hired out of Lonnock to place them。 Men to dig moats。 Lumberjacks to cut trees。 Cooks and ironsmiths； with mortar； chisels； saws； awls； axes； and。。。the list went on and on。
But to what purpose？ If Raj Ahten could simply shatter the castle with a shout？
She looked up on the hill； saw Gaborn kneeling in a patch of snow； in the field。 Gaborn had laid his father's body out on the hill above the castle； beneath a great oak tree。 A huge limb lay near them。
Gaborn had collected dozens of spears； and he ringed these about his father's corpse； creating a fence of sorts； to keep out the wolves。
In the tree above his father's corpse； he had hung his father's golden shield。 He took his father's helm； laid it in the snow at his father's feeta sign that his father had fallen in battle。
She turned her horse； went to him； leading her father's stallion。 Behind King Sylvarresta followed the three Days： hers； her father's； and Gaborn's。 King Sylvarresta had verged on falling dead asleep in his saddle a few minutes before； but now stared about； grinning broadly at the snow through bleary eyes； a child filled with delight。
Gaborn looked up at Iome as she approached； his face looked bleak； desolate。 Iome knew then that she would find no words to fort him。 She had nothing to offer him。 In the past few days； she'd lost nearly everythingher home； her parents； her beauty。。。and things less tangible。
How will I ever sleep again？ she wondered。 In her mind； the castle had always been the supreme icon of security。 In a world fraught with danger； it had always been a safe haven。
No more。
She felt now that she'd lost her childhood； her innocence。 Her peace of mind was torn from her。
Not just because her mother lay dead and one of her castles lay in ruins。 As she rode that morning； she considered what had happened。 Yesterday； she'd feared that Borenson would sneak into Castle Sylvarresta； kill her Dedicates。 She imagined that secretly she'd known what he would do； though she hated it。
By not challenging him； not confronting him； Iome had agreed to it。 The horror of it had all been creeping up on her since noon yesterday。 Now she found herself defenseless。 She hadn't slept for two nights。 She'd felt dizzy for hours； had feared she would topple from her horse。
Now it seemed as if a great invisible beast； lurking beneath her consciousness； suddenly sprang and seized her。
Iome had meant to say some word of fort to Gaborn； but suddenly found icy tears coursing down her cold cheeks。 She tried to wipe them； began shuddering quietly。
Gaborn had prepared his father's body well。 The King's hair was bed； his face was pale in death。 The glamour he'd worn had died with him； so that the man she saw was not the King Orden who had seemed so regal； so powerful； during life。
He looked like some aging statesman； with a broad face； skin somewhat weather…beaten。 He smiled enigmatically。 He was dressed in his armor； and lay on a plank。 His richly embroidered cape of shimmering samite covered him like a robe。
In his hands； he clasped the bud of a single blue rose； perhaps taken from the Duke's garden。
Gaborn turned to look up at Iome； saw the expression on her face； then stood slowly； as if the effort pained him。 He walked to her； grabbed her shoulders as she slid from her horse； and held her