“Child, you’re home!” A smile blossomed, and her arms opened wide.
Overflowing with emotion, Lark disentangled herself from the little girl whom they’d adopted years ago when she’d turned up, a tot all alone. She hurried to embrace the extraordinary woman who’d raised them after Mama died. “Gramma! I’m so glad you’re safe and sound.” Her lavender scent, the shorter, softer form of her warm body in Lark’s arms, felt like home. Memories of hot peach cobbler, stories that came alive at her telling, and the sting of Gramma’s rebuke all flooded back like a spring tide.
“Of course I am,” Gramma chided. Even pressing her lips tight, she couldn’t hide the smile beneath them. “Now, let me look at you.” The old woman lifted her hands and tenderly traced Lark’s features with her fingers. “Goodness gracious, girl!” Her blind eyes rounded. “What happened to your hair?”
Lark laughed. “I’ll tell you all about it, along with my other adventures, but I’m under orders to rest. Maybe we can exchange stories lounging over there.” She pointed to the patio furniture, since it would be cooler outside than inside this time of day. Gramma didn’t have to see to know what she meant.
“Gramma, I want to introduce you to my friends, but we’ve got an injured man who needs your attention,” Lark said as the parade caught up to her.
Her grandmother lifted her chin, listened, and sniffed the air. “Put him over yonder in the sittin’ room. There’s a couch. I’ll be around directly.”
“Thanks.” Lark glanced at Luke and pointed to the metal container wing on her left, its double doors propped open. With a nod, Luke accompanied the Marine and the medic who carried him in.
Bryn watched the strangers nervously before looking back at Lark. “I’ll get you a glass of lemonade,” she offered, and scampered inside.
“Leif, can you fetch me a pillow to sit on?” Lark cast him a pleading look.
Confused, he shrugged. “Sure,” and followed Bryn through the open, two-and-a-half-meter high double doors. Sam retreated to a folded, tattered blanket on the porch that served as his bed.
Taking Gramma’s arm, Lark walked with her to a bench in the shade along an outside wall of one wing of their house. “I missed you, and I’m sorry I couldn’t return until now. Important things are happening and, well, it’s complicated.”
Only understanding and acceptance radiated from her grandmother. “I’ve been there.”
“So,” snapped a sharp voice from behind them. “You deign to show your face here.”
Lark froze, an icy chill running through her despite the heat. Her heart beat so hard that her wound throbbed. Gramma patted her arm. “You go on, dear. I’ll go see to my patient.”
Feeling small, helpless, and guilt-ridden, Lark swallowed and pivoted to face Milena Boyd, the unrequited love of her youth and best friend—a friend who’d intended to marry Tommy Hayes, whose life Lark couldn’t save. Milena’s rage radiated so fiercely that birds fell silent and insects fled.
Chapter seven
Where Promises End
Milena’s naturally creamy face darkened into a stormy cloud, her golden-brown tresses flaring like lightning instead of sunrays. Her glare bore a hole into Lark’s soul, forcing her to relive every pang of anguish. In that moment, the world went away.
“You promised,” Milena clipped. She flicked up her chin, inhaling sharply through her nose. “You promisedme.”
Resigned to face her fate, Lark walked out to meet Milena, who stood a dozen meters away, arms crossed in a closed stance. “I know, and I tried.” Lark opened her palms at her sides in surrender. “The truth is, there was no medicine—not until the team I joined went out to find some. I hoped we’d return in time.”
“Well, you didn’t. I always knew you were stormborn, but I never took you for a rustin’ sack of buzzard bait.”
Lark stopped short, the woman she’d adored, suddenly a stranger. “I loved Tommy too.”
“I don’t believe it,” Milena accused. “You didn’t even come home for his funeral. All these months you’ve stayed away because you’re a coward. You couldn’t face us after what you did. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“You’re right.” The words fell from Lark’s lips like teardrops. “But not entirely. Don’t you see what’s happening? We’re at war. The Iron Republic has invaded, and Queen Frost needs me.”
“Needs you?” Milena scoffed. “The queen needs you?” She took a menacing step closer and jabbed a finger into Lark’s chest. “Ineeded you! You left me to grieve alone, and I’ll never forgive you for that.” Bitterness bit her words and darted from her eyes.
“I loved Tommy as much as you, if more like a brother,” Lark retorted in her defense. “And I never stopped loving you. It was true when we were children, and it’s true now. But things have changed along with my responsibilities. I’m in VERT now, helping defend our country against our enemies.”
“Whatever the hell that is,” Milena muttered, her glare unwavering. “Lark, you used to be about protecting Saltmarsh Reach—your home. You broke your promise. You abandoned us.”
“I didn’t abandon you. I’m here now.”
Milena snorted, curled her lip, and retreated a step. “A day late and a dollar short. Everyone else might give you a warm welcome, praise, and appreciation, but you won’t get that from me. I’d prefer never to see or speak to you again.” When she spun on her heel, it was as if an icy blast slapped Lark in the face.
“Milena, please,” she called after her. “I fought for Tommy. I did what I could, but there was no medicine to be had. Don’t you understand?”