CH645 · Rewrite
☕ Support

Chapter 645: Farewell and Promise

He couldn’t stay in the bedroom forever. The office waited.

It was nearly dusk when Nightingale came to tell him Tilly wanted to see him. Roland put on a coat, combed his hair back, gathered the pile of writing papers, and pushed the door open — and found Tilly and Ashes already waiting.

Ashes moved immediately to take the stack from his arms. Roland stopped mid-step, papers shifting in his grip. Ashes — who had never offered him anything but cold wariness — had simply crossed the room and lifted his burden, as naturally as if she’d always done it. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

The sunset came through the tall windows in long orange sheets, gilding the walls, threading gold across Tilly’s shoulders and into the line of her jaw. It gave the whole room the quality of a farewell painting — the kind that makes absence feel inevitable before a word has been spoken.

Roland had already guessed why she’d come.

He didn’t want them to leave. That was honest. But he’d known this day would arrive, and the fact that Tilly had stayed through his coma — refused to leave while he lay senseless — said more than any declaration could.

“I’m here to say goodbye,” Tilly said. Her voice was measured, unhurried. “I need to return to Sleeping Island. The Bloodfang Association issues require my attention.”

Roland studied her face — the clear eyes that reflected the last of the sunset, the calm that wasn’t indifference but something harder and more considered. After a moment he said: “I understand. When does the Charming Beauty arrive in the western region? I’ll arrange a farewell dinner —” He stopped. A thought landed. “Wait. You said you’ll come back?”

Ashes turned away and covered her mouth.

Tilly smiled — openly, and with the particular pleasure of someone who’d been waiting to deliver a line. “Well — won’t you welcome me, brother?”

“No, I mean — why would you —” He opened his mouth and found nothing useful. After a moment: “Is it because of the Months of Demons?”

“Could it not be for something else?” She spread her hands. “Don’t you have higher expectations for me?”

He was completely still.

“Yes,” Tilly said, answering the question in his expression before he could form it. “You’ve guessed correctly. I’ll take word back to Sleeping Island that the church has been driven out of the western region — that Graycastle’s western cities are no longer under church control — that witches don’t have to hide on a small island, frightened and waiting. When you’re ready, I’ll bring back any witch from Sleeping Island who chooses to come.” She tilted her head. “I hope you won’t complain that they eat too much.”

“They’re welcome here at any time.” The words came out before he’d planned them. He meant them entirely.

“Your castle isn’t large enough for even half of them — and half would still be several times the size of your Witch Union. Most aren’t combat witches, either. I’ll hire ships when the Months of Demons are over; the routes are safer then.” She gave him the slow smile of someone who has thought this through thoroughly. “I suggest you have Karl begin building accommodation before next spring.”

“No problem. He’ll have it done.”

Tilly held up three fingers. “I also have three conditions, brother.”

Her seriousness made him sit up straighter. “Go ahead.”

“First: you cannot prevent them from leaving Neverwinter for other towns, if they wish to go.”

“Agreed,” Roland said immediately, “though while the kingdom remains divided, I’d advise them to stay in the western region or Sleeping Island for their own safety. Once Graycastle is unified, they’re free to go wherever they choose.”

“A sensible caveat.” Tilly nodded. “Second: you cannot compel them to work for you.”

He poured two cups of tea and pushed one toward her. “Can I entice them to work for me?”

She gave him an appraising look. “As long as you use no force.”

“Done.” He couldn’t hold back a smile. He had a substantial catalogue of enticements prepared: salaries, scented soaps, wine, ice cream. Capital’s sugarcoated incentives were far more persuasive than coercion, and naive young women who’d spent their lives hiding in the dark were considerably easier to win with hot meals and honest wages than by decree.

“Third —” Tilly paused here, briefly. “I hope the Sleeping Spell can exist as an independent organization. Of course, I’d contribute a portion of its earnings to Neverwinter.”

Roland turned this over. The Sleeping Spell — Tilly’s bounty organization, formed originally to resolve the tension between combat and assistant witches, to generate income for the island. In practice, it encompassed nearly every witch on Sleeping Island. If it remained independent, Tilly kept control of them.

Which meant Tilly was, in gentle and politic terms, asking for a guarantee that he wouldn’t absorb them into his own hierarchy.

He understood the worry. He didn’t hold it against her. Trust was built slowly, and Tilly had given him considerably more than she’d given two years ago.

The honest truth was that the question of how to integrate Sleeping Island’s witches had been weighing on him. The Witch Union was controlled by Wendy — loyal, reliable, familiar. Doubling or tripling its size overnight would dilute that control. But leaving the new arrivals outside the Witch Union entirely felt like a cold rejection. Tilly’s proposal solved both problems at once.

“Of course,” he said. “Provided the Sleeping Spell operates within the laws of the western region.”

A pause. “Really?” Tilly looked genuinely surprised. “That quickly?”

“I keep my word.”

She relaxed visibly — not dramatically, just a small loosening at the shoulders, the releasing of breath she’d been holding. “Then I’ll go pack. The Charming Beauty arrives in three days. I’ll take the combat witches and also Iffy and Softfeathers. Once the Bloodfang situation is resolved, I’ll send them back.”

“You won’t return until the Months of Demons are finished?”

“You asked whether it was because of the Months of Demons, and I didn’t deny it,” she said.

“Which means you’ll come back early?”

Tilly nodded. “Just like last year, brother.” A softness crossed her expression — not sentimental, but present and real. “I’ll fight the demonic beasts with you until the heavy snow stops.”

Discussion

Suggest a change