Copyright © 2026 Sylvia Lowik. All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.
Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Dedication
Thank you to my husband, Nick, who supported me through it all.
Without all the encouragement of my Twitter friends, who know me as Nettie Sars, I would never have made it.
I owe a big thank you to my neurosurgeon,
Prof. J.J. Van Overbeeke, who saved my sight nearly 20 years ago.
HARDOUR CITIES MIDLAND
The choices we make define our lives. 1034 AE (After Exodus)
On a sunny day in April, an unnamed young man watches a beautiful girl dive into the sea. She has sneaked out for an illicit trip to the beach below the mighty towers of Harrington House. This visit sets off a whole train of events, leaving her far from home and damaged beyond repair.
On her flight through Midland, she finds new friends. One is a young man who will sacrifice everything because he feels responsible for her predicament. The other is a wise ex-warrior monk who guides them through this cruel land.
While being persecuted by Midland’s vicious ruler, they travel through the Badlands, cross the Dark Towers and find help in Sinatown.
Arriving at their final destination, they have to make difficult choices.
CHAPTER 3 – Back in the Castle. 13
CHAPTER 6 – Mother Redwood. 21
CHAPTER 11 – Evening Dinner. 35
CHAPTER 13 – The aftermath. 39
CHAPTER 14 – Digger’s Peninsula. 42
CHAPTER 15 – Selby’s House. 45
CHAPTER 17 – Henry and Nicholas. 50
CHAPTER 18 – Finn the coastline. 55
CHAPTER 19 – Trip to White Fort 58
CHAPTER 20 – The Train Ride. 63
CHAPTER 21 – Marion and John. 65
CHAPTER 22 – Astrid meets Damien. 68
CHAPTER 23 – Damien in Solo. 70
CHAPTER 24 – Mallory, the medic. 72
CHAPTER 26 – Meeting Mattie. 77
CHAPTER 27 – Saving Astrid. 80
CHAPTER 28 – The Waggon Inn. 83
CHAPTER 31 – The Escape Plan. 91
CHAPTER 35 – Damien’s Fury. 104
CHAPTER 36 – Monks to the Fort 107
CHAPTER 38 – Luton Monastery. 114
CHAPTER 39 – Father Macron. 118
CHAPTER 40 – The Commander. 121
CHAPTER 43 – A Colourful Map. 129
CHAPTER 44 – Family Reunion. 132
CHAPTER 45 – Family Dinner. 137
CHAPTER 47 – Solo and Yaya. 141
CHAPTER 48 – The Decision. 144
CHAPTER 50 – Getting to Know Jonah. 150
CHAPTER 51 – Gets Terrible News. 154
CHAPTER 52 – Healing Solo. 158
CHAPTER 53 – Astrid’s flight 161
CHAPTER 54 – Following Astrid. 164
CHAPTER 55 – The Cascades. 168
CHAPTER 57 – The brothers. 174
CHAPTER 60 – Darkwater Oasis. 189
CHAPTER 62 – The Revelation. 194
CHAPTER 66 – Penn Station. 213
CHAPTER 67 – Wulf and Yaya travel 217
CHAPTER 68 – Day in Upavon. 219
CHAPTER 69 – Make a decision. 221
CHAPTER 70 – Saying goodbye. 224
The Book of Light
It is unequivocal that human influence has warmed the atmosphere, ocean and land. Widespread and rapid changes have occurred in the atmosphere, the ocean, the cryosphere, and the biosphere. The scale of recent changes across the climate system as a whole and the present state of many aspects of the climate system are unprecedented over the past several centuries to thousands of years. Human-induced climate change is already affecting many weather and climate extremes worldwide. There is evidence of observed changes in extremes, such as heatwaves, heavy precipitation, droughts, and tropical cyclones, and of their attribution to human influence.
ISPCC Sixth Assessment
Eugenics is the practice or advocacy of improving the human species by selectively mating people with specific desirable hereditary traits. It aims to reduce human suffering by “breeding out” disease, disabilities and so-called undesirable characteristics from the human population.
First Law of the Church of Light, Prior Galton the First
Survival of the fittest or natural selection: The natural process by which organisms best adapted to their environment are most successful in surviving and reproducing.
Father Spencer 1264 AE
CHAPTER 1 – Beautiful Day
No one could have guessed how this beautiful, sun-soaked morning would end. It was one of those rare April days that could fool you into believing summer had already arrived. Gulls wheeled overhead, shrieking like quarrelling fishwives, swooping around the cliffs before plunging into the glittering sea in search of breakfast. Two small figures—more tumbling than running—pelted down the high dunes, racing each other across the vast, deserted beach. One glance out of their bedroom window had been enough that morning: tasks could wait. They would sneak down to the shore through the hidden passage they’d found while exploring the castle cellars. Easy choice.“Wait for me, Astrid!” Marion gasped, her short legs scrambling to keep up with her friend’s effortless stride.
Astrid didn’t slow. She tore off her headdress in one impatient motion, shaking loose a wild mass of auburn curls. Her cloak landed in the sand. Then her nightgown. The girl was a whirlwind.
“You’re not going in?” Marion squeaked. “Astrid, you’ll freeze to death! Just because it’s warm doesn’t mean the water isn’t icy! And your mother will—”
“They’re far too busy with wedding preparations to notice I’ve left the house,” Astrid said, furious and breathless all at once. “If I see another embroidered lily or endure one more of Father Sirio’s sermons, I swear I’ll throw myself off the highest tower. I’ve been locked all winter indoors—and now, because I’ve turned fifteen and become a ‘woman’—” she spat the word, “—I’m banned from hunting with the men!”
Marion barely had time to roll her eyes before Astrid bolted into the sea with a whoop. The cold shocked her lungs, but she pushed through, swimming in long, clean strokes toward the steeple—one of the few things still visible from the drowned village.
John teaching her to swim had been a gift. Without that freedom to slip away, to wash off smoke and rules and expectations, she would have gone mad.
She reached the steeple and draped an arm over its railing, floating on her back as the sun warmed her face. Hard to imagine that beneath her, an entire community slept under the waves. Before the Exodus, Billy—Marion’s earnest little brother had told them storms, rising seas, and ancient wars had swallowed whole cities. When the Life Ships launched, many had fled.
Billy wasn’t meant to share his monastery lessons, but pride had always loosened his tongue. Astrid adored him for it.
Automobiles. Instant messages. Libraries of knowledge lived in glass tablets. If everyone had been so educated, how would everything have fallen apart?
Father Sirio insisted technology had doomed humanity, that the Tree of Life was the only safe path now. A path that meant obedience. Marriage. Babies. No maps. No sciences. Nothing that made Astrid feel like Astrid.
She eyed the horizon. If I could run away… maybe Nicholas would come with me.
Back on the dunes, Marion had given up protesting and was sprawled in the sun, peaceful and warm—more sister than friend. When Marion’s mother had died during a raid, Ingrid Harrington had taken her in. Astrid remembered the shy, tearful eight-year-old who had, in no time, grown into her cheerful, loyal shadow.
They couldn’t have been more different. Astrid tall, golden-skinned, athletic; Marion tiny and pale, her silver curls shining in the sunlight. Astrid lived for mischief and movement. Marion preferred gossip by the hearth and was forever trying (and failing) to keep Astrid out of trouble.
Tomorrow would change everything, though. Weddings. Matches chosen by the Tree and the elders. Futures decided.
If only I’d been chosen for Nicholas. Why him for Marion and not me? What’s wrong with his bloodline? He’s strong. Handsome. She flushed, remembering the night she begged him to run away with her. He’d been shocked. Gentle. Firm. Impossible. He does love me. I know he does. Their stolen nights—kissing, touching, exploring—had felt like promises.
But tomorrow she would belong to Henry. Cold, remote Henry. And then the frozen islands of the North. The thought made her shiver more than the sea.
Thinking of John helped. He’d promised her first pick of his wolfhound Speed’s litter as a farewell gift. Maybe her new hunting dog could ease the loneliness.
Astrid sighed and began swimming back.
The moment she stepped from the waves, the wind bit at her skin like claws. She sprinted toward her clothes, teeth chattering.
Marion had drifted off in the sun. With a wicked grin, Astrid wrung a handful of icy seawater over her friend’s sleeping face.
“Yiiii—!” Marion’s shriek echoed across the dunes. She seized Astrid by the arms and yanked her into her clothes. “You menace! Hurry—if anyone finds out we used the tunnel—”
They scrambled back toward the hidden entrance. If anyone discovered they’d used the forbidden passage, they’d be scrubbing pots for a month.
Moments later, the beach was empty again. Only gulls and waves bore witness to the carefree morning that would soon become a memory.
CHAPTER 2 – On the cliff
High on the cliffs above the dunes, a small figure straightened from the scrub and darted into the forest. Boy ran along the narrow path, breath sharp in his throat, feet barely touching the ground. He’d never realised girls could look so… beautiful. Shiny. That was the only word his stunned brain could supply.
Women and girls back home didn’t look like that. Compared to those golden- and silver-skinned goddesses on the beach, Midlands women seemed either plain or downright terrifying. And yet those two had been alone—unguarded-at the sea’s edge. Unthinkable. At home, it would never be allowed. Far too dangerous.
Midland women learned early how to keep the worst men at bay. They tattooed themselves almost beyond recognition, pierced whatever could be pierced, and fought with the ferocity of wildcats. They frightened the life out of him. They’d formed a tribe of their own: the Vixens. Fierce. Loyal. Deadly. His sister, Yaya, was one of them. Of course, she was.
“You need looking after, little bro,” she always teased. “You’re too soft. One day, Damian will spot you and drag you into his harem. Too handsome and too gentle by half.”
The thought alone made Boy break into a sweat. Damian—self-proclaimed ruler of the Midlands—was the most feared man in the Archipelago. He looked like a jolly monk, round and soft-faced, but every Midland child knew better. Ever since his older brothers died on raids, Damian ruled with an iron fist. People whispered he was crueller than the sea itself.
Damian was always scouting for new blood—his “sons,” he called them. Rumour said his family had once lived on the Island until the Harringtons cast them out. The hatred had festered ever since.
He wanted nothing to do with the boy. They’d been sent here under orders: scout the castle, note the gathering families, report if anything unusual happened. Solo—scout leader, Yaya’s mate, and the most reckless man Boy had ever met—claimed Damian meant to use the event for revenge.
Observe, report, and stay hidden. That was the mission.
But Boy saw an opportunity. If Solo acted fast, they could hit the place before Damian’s men even arrived—and take the credit. Solo needed the reward badly. His brother’s treatment wasn’t cheap.
Spurred by the thought, Boy ran harder. The underbrush was thin, just beginning to bloom after the long winter. By summer, this path would be swallowed again. Now or never.
Despite being nameless, Yaya’s crew had taken him in. He wasn’t strong, but he was quick—fast on land, fast on water, sharp-eyed, and able to sketch terrain like a trained cartographer. It was enough. And maybe it helped that Yaya had whispered in Solo’s ear.
“You gotta be smart and fast when you’re not strong,” he used to tell Wulf—with a grin hiding more truth than either admitted.
He slowed, catching his breath. New spring leaves glowed bright green overhead. The air smelled of sap and damp, earthy soil. His thoughts drifted back to the girls—especially the one who had run naked into the sea without hesitation. Her skin had glowed in the sunlight like polished copper.
He’d been with girls back home—quick, clumsy fumblings that left him wondering what the older men were bragging about. No spark. No heat. Just… effort. This? This had felt like being struck by lightning. Suddenly, two enormous arms wrapped around his ribs and hoisted him straight into the air.
“Daydreaming is for corpses!” a booming voice bellowed. “Anyone could’ve gutted you, you little runt. Wait till your big sister hears about this.”
Wulf planted a slobbery kiss on his head for emphasis.
Wulf was already two heads taller than Boy, despite being six months younger. He’d earned his name two years ago—strong as a bull, red-bearded at fifteen, and always grinning like trouble personified. They’d trained together since they were six, after ageing out of the Women’s House but still too young for the Men’s. Opposites: Boy thin and quick, Wulf a walking boulder. But loyal. Always loyal.
Wulf’s mother, Freya—chief of the Women’s Circle—had become close with Boy’s mother, Sara, the village herbalist and midwife. Sara had raised her children alone after Boy’s father vanished on a foraging trip, fending off predatory men with a fierceness Boy had inherited only in part.
Boy had grown up fast. He wanted nothing more than enough money so Sara could finally rest. Until then, Yaya handled their safety. Boy dealt with the running.
Solo’s scouts had freedom: travel, real purpose. They’d trained for eight years, and now—finally—had been invited to join the band. They hadn’t gone on any raids yet. Their best hope of escaping this life was the White Fort Lottery—spend their savings, pray to the old spirits.
“More chance of getting hit by lightning,” Solo always joked. “But dreaming keeps the peace.”
Still wriggling, Boy snapped, “Put me down! I nearly stuck you with my knife.”
“Oh yeah? With which hands?” Wulf’s laugh boomed.
Boy answered by slamming the back of his head into Wulf’s nose.
“OW!” Wulf barked, staggering. Boy grinned and gave him a quick jab to the ribs.
“See? These hands.”
Wulf wheezed dramatically. “You little gremlin. That actually hurt. And why are you running the wrong way?”
Boy straightened, eyes bright. “Because I’ve got news for Solo. Big news. While scouting the cliffs, I saw two girls running down the dunes. They came from a crack in the cliff wall. One of them swam naked.” His voice cracked slightly at the memory. “Afterwards, they went back through the same crack. It’s a secret entrance. If we move fast, we could slip inside. Get the loot before Damian’s men get here.”
Wulf scratched his head, eyes gleaming. “Lucky bastard. Naked, you say? Maybe we should both go back—”
“No!” Boy hissed. “Wulf, this is serious. If we tell Solo now, he might act early. We could finally prove ourselves.”
Wulf sobered. “We’re not supposed to leave our post. Solo already thinks your sister’s got too much sway over him. If we bring this, he might think you’re trying to take charge. That’s not how things work. The last man who went rogue is still digging latrines.”
Boy rolled his eyes. “And what if we don’t tell him? Let him hear about it later? If you want, stay here. I’ll go myself.”
Wulf groaned. He knew that tone. “Fine. I’m coming. If we’re getting in trouble, we’re getting in trouble together.”
“Good! Come on!”
Boy sprinted down the path, exhilarated. Wulf thundered behind him, already praying that Solo would be pleased—rather than furious.
As usual, Wulf also wished Yaya had chosen a man slightly less… intense.
CHAPTER 3 – Back in the Castle
As Astrid and Marion hurried into the courtyard, they had to push through the unexpectedly dense crowd. More servants than usual hurried to and from. A handful of grooms led a group of splendid horses towards the paddocks, their hooves clattering on the stone.
Trying to be heard above the noise, Marion cupped her hands and shouted, “Hey! I think your master—Redwood—has arrived!”
“First, he’s not my master yet,” Astrid muttered. The glow of their stolen morning swim was already fading. “And second—you seem more eager to meet him than I am.”
“I’m curious,” Marion insisted, grinning. “The man you’re going to marry— tomorrow! I still can’t believe your father agreed to it. You’ve never even met the guy properly. He must be ancient if he was friends with your father when they were young.”
“Oh, stop rubbing it in,” Astrid groaned. “Henry was just a boy visiting Mother’s court. Anyway, just because you get to marry my brother—who you adore—doesn’t mean I get a choice.”
She lowered her voice. “Father consulted the monks. They read the Gene Charts. Henry was one of two matches. Refusing him would embarrass Father in front of the Prior. He’d never forgive me.”
Trying to sound braver than she felt, she added, “He’s at least letting Nicholas travel with us as far as Salisbury. He starts his Wood Nation internship there. We’re taking the inland route—too many storms on the coast.”
Marion giggled.
Astrid went pink. Of course, Marion noticed. She always had. Nicholas had been her nurse’s son—practically a brother—until one day they had looked at each other and realised they weren’t siblings at all. Those secret nights, all warmth and whispers, had been her happiest memories.
And now she was supposed to pretend none of it ever happened.
Duty would demand obedience. Marriage. Motherhood. The Path of the Tree. Forget childish things. Forget Nicholas.
But she couldn’t. Especially after that night…
She cleared her throat quickly, desperate to change the topic before she made a fool of herself.
“Did you know,” Astrid said lightly, “that if it hadn’t been for Redwood, I might’ve ended up as your stepmother?”
“What!! Who told you that?”
“I’m not allowed to say. He gets in trouble.”
“Billy,” Marion hissed, scandalised. “You shouldn’t make him tell you about the charts. That’s unfair. He could get in real trouble. You’re taking advantage of his crush.”
Astrid’s bravado faltered. “I just wanted to know whether I could’ve been matched with Nicholas and—and if they hid it from me.”
Marion softened immediately. She hadn’t meant to snap.
“Ouch! Watch where you’re going!”
Astrid had turned to Marion while walking, assuming—as usual—that others would step aside. Instead, she collided with a man who had just dismounted.
“Young lady,” the man said sharply, “watch where you walk. An apology might be in order—unless you’d prefer your master discipline you.”
He was peeling off a coat far too heavy for Southern weather. His bright blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he studied. His hair, streaked with grey, framed a strong, handsome face. He clearly mistook them for servants—two girls who had slipped outside in household cloaks.
Astrid dipped a curtsey. “Sir, I’m terribly sorry.” She elbowed Marion hard in the ribs. “Please don’t tell the master.”
The man blinked—then grinned broadly.
“You had me fooled, lass. You look exactly like your grandmother. You must be little Astrid—though not so little now.” He swept a courtly bow. “Henry Redwood, at your service.”
Astrid froze.
This? This was the man she was marrying tomorrow.
A stranger. A Northerner. Her future.
He turned to Marion.
“And who is this fine young lady?”
“M-Marion Selby, sir,” she stammered.
“Master Selby’s daughter?” Henry beamed. “Protector of the West and commander of the garrison—I look forward to meeting your father at the wedding.”
Then, with a wink, he added, “Best be off. Lady Ingrid won’t be thrilled that I met my bride in such… informal circumstances. Even if you two aren’t scared of her, I still am.”
He strode toward the keep.
The girls stared at each other—then collapsed into helpless laughter.
“By the Lady,” Marion wheezed. “Astrid—we’re not even wearing shoes!”
Astrid shook her head. “Why did he wait so long to marry? And why choose a girl from so far south? Surely there were matches in Scotia.”
“He’s gorgeous,” Marion sighed. “I’d almost trade John for him.”
“He said he could’ve married ten times,” Astrid muttered. “He’s one of my parents’ oldest friends. Still—”
“Oh, stop!” Marion laughed. “Did you see the way he looked at you? My knees gave out. You’ll definitely fall for him—and forget Nicholas.”
“Stop babbling,” Astrid snapped. What’s love got to do with marriage? It’s business. That’s all. I’ll never love anyone but Nicholas.”
She fled toward the kitchen, blinking back tears. Everything suddenly felt far too real. Before, marriage had been a distant, hazy idea—something she could avoid, joke about, even outrun. Seeing Henry made it solid. Heavy. A door closing. Maybe I should ask Nicholas to run away again…
But where would they go? He hadn’t jumped at the idea before. He’d been frightened—more than frightened. The Tree be damned, she had whispered that night. Let’s go now—just you and me.
And he had pulled away. He hadn’t touched her since.
Her father often said Henry saved his life in the last war against the Seafaring Folk. When he returned from the Monastery’s selection, thrilled with the match, he hadn’t noticed her heartache—or perhaps he assumed she’d grow out of it.
Astrid hurried through the kitchen, ignoring the curious looks from busy servants. Before her mother could rope her into preparations, she sprinted up the East Tower stairs, dropped her cloak on the floor, and collapsed onto her bed.
Her wedding dress hung on the wall—cream lace, finest Sinese silk. Its delicate beauty made her stomach twist. Why must everything be about the wedding?
“Hello, dear,” Trudy said, entering with a heavy basket. “Enjoy your swim?”
Astrid groaned. “I did. Until I bumped into Henry Redwood.”
“Careful, love—you’ll crease your things before I even pack them.”
“What’s wrong with Henry?” Trudy asked. “He’s charming. Handsome. And I hear he keeps a mistress so that he won’t expect too much from you too soon.”
Astrid blinked. “What?!”
But Trudy wasn’t listening. Her mind wandered back to the hardest thing she’d done in years—telling Nicholas the truth. Your father is George Harrington. That makes Astrid your half-sister.
Nicholas had gone white, shaken to the core. She’d hated breaking him like that, but she hadn’t seen another choice. Astrid was impulsive—reckless. Nicholas loved her enough to follow. And that would kill them both.
After the wedding, Henry would be responsible for calming her wild spirit. And Scotia—cold, distant, remote—might help her forget. Astrid sat up, cutting through Trudy’s thoughts.
“Our Lady save me—will everyone stop talking about weddings? I’m going mad!”
“Well, child,” Trudy said mildly, “it’s a bit late to hide from it now. Make the most of your last free day.”
She handed over a hairbrush.
“Why not go see your brother? Tell him which pup you’ve chosen.”
Astrid’s eyes lit instantly—her first smile in hours.
“You always know how to cheer me up.”
She hugged Trudy, brushed out her tangled hair, fastened it with her green gemstone pin, and changed into a fern-patterned dress.
John would be behind the stables with Speed, fussing over the wolfhound’s first—and only—litter. He adored that dog. He always joked that if forced to choose between Marion and Speed, Marion would come second.
Astrid laughed at the thought, her worries momentarily lighter.
She hurried downstairs.
CHAPTER 4 – The stable
The smell of hay, warm hide, and oat mash washed over Astrid the instant she stepped into the stables. Morning sunlight slanted through the high windows, illuminating drifting dust motes like tiny dancing spirits. Horses nickered softly as she passed; she patted each muzzle in greeting until she reached the far end of the long corridor.
Of course, he was there.
John knelt beside Speed’s whelping pen, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back with a strip of leather. He was muttering lovingly at the wolfhound as she sprawled on her side, twitching her ears with regal dignity while three plump pups wriggled and squeaked around her belly.
“You’re spoiling her again,” Astrid teased.
John didn’t look up. “Speed deserves to be spoiled. She brought the future champions of Harrington House into the world.”
“She brought them into the world,” Astrid echoed dryly. “You nearly fainted.”
At that, John finally turned his head, glaring—only for the expression to melt into a grin.
“I did not faint. I lost blood sugar. It’s different.”
“Certainly looked the same.”
He stood and dusted the hay from his knees, pulling Astrid into a one-armed hug that squeezed the breath from her lungs.
“You’re late,” he said into her hair. “I thought you would’ve come before breakfast.”
“I overslept.” Astrid wrinkled her nose. “Blame Marion. She’s been fussing like an old hen because Henry Redwood smiled at her.”
John snorted. “I can see that. She nearly fainted when Father met the man. Poor thing’s convinced Northerners can read thoughts.”
Astrid’s smile faded slightly. “He’s… kind. At least he seems so.”
John angled his head, studying her. He was only eighteen—barely three years older than she was—, but in this moment, he looked decades wiser.
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said softly. “I know this match feels sudden.”
Astrid swallowed hard. “I’ll manage.”
“You always do,” he murmured, squeezing her shoulder. “Come on. You have three champions to choose from.”
She knelt beside the pen and examined it. A pile of warm fur and pudgy limbs, each one utterly perfect. One pup—a little brown-gold creature with a dark muzzle—struggled to climb over its siblings, only to tumble sideways with a squeak.
Without thinking, Astrid scooped him up.
“Oh,” she breathed.
He fit in her hands like a warm loaf of bread. His little heart thumped against her palm; his milky eyes blinked unfocused up at her. When he rooted unquestioningly toward her sleeve, Astrid laughed—really laughed—for the first time in days.
“That one, then?” John asked.
“Yes.” She cuddled the puppy to her chest. “This one.”
“Good choice. Stubborn. Greedy. A bit loud. Reminds me of someone.”
She elbowed him. “Shut up.”
John flopped down beside her, legs stretching out in front of him. For a while, they just sat in the quiet, listening to the soft whimpers of the pups, the rustle of straw, the distant clang of kitchen pots.
“I’ll miss this,” Astrid said suddenly.
John didn’t need to ask what she meant.
“Home,” she whispered. “You. Marion. Everything. What if I’m not ready?”
“You won’t be alone,” John said gently. “Henry seems honourable. He won’t rush you.”
“But…” Her throat tightened. “I thought life would be different. I thought—”
She stopped.
Nicholas’s name hovered unspoken between them.
John didn’t push. He only sighed and leaned his shoulder against hers.
“You know,” he said, voice turning teasing again, “I’m beginning to suspect you only agreed to this match for the dog.”
“Obviously,” Astrid sniffed. “I’m marrying a man to obtain his kingdom and raise wolfhounds. It’s the logical choice.”
John chuckled.
But then the laughter faded, replaced by something quieter. More fragile.
“Be happy, Astrid,” he said. “Please.”
Astrid cradled the pup against her chest.
“John?” she asked as they walked toward the door. “Everything will be fine… won’t it?”
John paused, his expression softening as he glanced at the puppy nestled in Astrid’s arms. “I’ve seen you face far worse than this,” he murmured, voice low, “and come out smiling, every time.” The warmth in his gaze lingered, carrying both hope and uncertainty.
John slipped an arm around her shoulders, warm and steady.
“Of course,” he said.
CHAPTER 5 – Henry
“Ingrid’s fine and completely in her element, organising two weddings at once. If you ask me, she’s more invested than the actual participants,” Gregory said, pouring two cups of ale.
“Well, speaking of participants,” Henry smiled, “I just bumped into your delightful daughter and her friend. Astrid has certainly grown since I last saw her. She’s the spitting image of Ingrid. I hope she won’t mind marrying an old Northerner like me.”
“She was brought up better than to let that bother her,” Gregory replied firmly. “The Tree made the match, and truth be told, I was delighted when your name appeared. She must be a difficult match—only one other candidate, and while a fine man, he wouldn’t have suited her. Besides, a solid alliance between the North and the South will make it easier to control those pests in the Midlands.”
He leaned back. “Let’s talk more about that tonight. First, there’s lunch. Ingrid has gone to great lengths in your honour. We’ve got some serious eating and drinking to do. I’ve sent one of my boys to gather everyone in the dining hall.”
He stood. “Why don’t you have a quick wash in your rooms? I imagine that ship journey didn’t offer much chance to freshen up. Richard will show you the way.”
Henry followed the steward to the East Tower. Gregory made his way to the second floor, where Ingrid was giving the last touches to a long table overflowing with food. For late winter, it was a marvel.
She still looked striking—tall and elegant, with almond-shaped skin, long dark hair streaked lightly with silver, and a commanding presence. When Gregory first saw her at the Kentish court, he knew instantly she would be his wife. Bless the Lady, they had been a genetic match—and most Kentish folk were.
Letting out a long whistle, Gregory gave her a roguish grin. “Woman, that looks delicious—and I’m not just talking about the food.”
Ingrid rolled her eyes with indulgent affection. “Still a boy at heart,” she said, smiling. “Did you send for everyone?”
“Yes. And Henry’s arrived just in time. Winds were with him.”
“You did remember to tell Richard to put him in the East Tower, I hope? We moved the boys above the stables.”
“Handled. He’s off to rinse now. Smelled a bit ripe from the crossing.”
“Greg!” Ingrid gasped. “You didn’t say that to him, did you?”
He chuckled. “No, but he wouldn’t have cared if I had. We’ve been telling each other the truth since we were twelve.”
“Well, you’re both well past twelve now. A little tact wouldn’t hurt,” she scolded, kissing the top of his head as he sat.
After nearly twenty years of marriage, they remained deeply fond of each other.
The door to the hall burst open.
John, Astrid, and Nicholas tumbled in, taking their places at the long table. Marion followed more gracefully.
Guests and staff trickled in behind them. Gregory believed in dining with everyone—servants, stewards, guards. They all rotated duties, and all were fed equally. That said, no one ever forgot who was in charge. Gregory had earned their respect through steady leadership. Every five years, he was re-elected Director of the Island.
As the room filled, curious eyes turned to the door, anticipating the arrival of the famous Northerner. The house had been buzzing since the match was announced. The people loved Astrid as one of their own—a wild, bright child who’d grown into a passionate, hard-working young woman.
Then came the knock.
CHAPTER 6 – Mother Redwood
Richard opened the door with the appropriate ceremony for such events. “Master Henry Redwood wishes to join our company.”
Henry stood sheepishly in the doorway, his men behind him.
“Come in, my friend,” Gregory called warmly, gesturing to the empty seat at his right. “Please, all of you—find a place.”
“Joel, bring a large beer for our honoured guests.”
Once everyone was seated, Gregory stood with his mug raised.
“A toast—to my dear friend Henry Redwood, who will soon become family.”
Cheers erupted around the room. Mugs clinked. A few men banged their fists on the table.
“And to all who’ve arrived safely to celebrate my children’s weddings—thank you for coming. Let’s make it a celebration to remember!”
Laughter and talking resumed as everyone tucked into Ingrid’s feast.
At the head table, the two old friends slipped back into discussion until Ingrid gently interrupted.
“How are your mother and your sisters?”
“They’re well, thank you. Mother regrets not being able to make the crossing, but she’s looking forward to meeting Astrid. She sends her warmest invitation for you to visit, should you ever wish to travel north.”
“I may take her up on that—after harvest. If only the trains weren’t so expensive. Someone needs to challenge the Rail Union. They’ve doubled fares in three years!”
Henry nodded. “Security costs. They’re having to add more guards to every route. Damien’s charging protection now.”
“So, you’ve heard about the trouble in Midland?” Gregory asked, lowering his voice.
Henry leaned closer. “Some groups have been seen near the Diggers Peninsula ruins. I suspect they caught wind of something. Spies everywhere. Their numbers are growing too fast, and food’s running low. Damien’s supposed to control them, but you and I both know the Prior is paying him with our money.”
Gregory grimaced. “We’ve heard similar. Visitors tell us it’s getting worse. Trains are risky—horseback is even worse. I prefer the sea these days.”
“Smart man,” Henry muttered.
Gregory nodded toward the gathered guests. “Here, we’re protected. Cliffs keep out most, and the monks patrol our harbours. The embargo on uninvited Midlanders is still in place. Complete annihilation if they cross our border—so far, it’s held.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Henry asked.“Tomorrow, we’ll speak with the other families. If trade continues to suffer, the Prior may allow a Raid. Taxes are his weak spot.”
They both sipped their drinks, turning the talk toward merrier things—guest lists, wedding customs, the latest gossip.
Until Astrid, unable to hold her tongue, finally burst out.
“It’s not fair! Why am I not allowed to join the campaign? Everyone knows about it but me! Last time, I was too young. Now I’m finally old enough, and I still can’t go? John says it’s because I’ll be married. Why not postpone the wedding and let me join the Raid?”
Silence dropped like a hammer.
Ingrid winced, thankful for the general noise in the hall that masked her daughter’s outburst. She began to apologise, but Gregory held up a hand. His eyes behind his spectacles blazed with warning. No one—no one—disrespected a guest or questioned his decisions, especially not in public.
Sensing the storm about to break, Henry quickly stepped in.
“Gregory,” he said smoothly, “why don’t Astrid and I take an afternoon sail to London City? It’ll help us digest all this delicious food and give us a chance to get to know each other better. She can bring a friend or a chaperone.”
Ingrid seized the opportunity. “What a lovely idea. Marion, would you go with them?”
“I’d love to see the market again, Aunt Ingrid,” Marion said, “but John and I planned to meet my father in the village. And you know how I am on boats.”
Everyone chuckled. Marion’s seasickness was legendary. She could barely manage a ferry ride without clinging to the rails.
“Well,” Henry said, rising with a wink, “that settles it. I need to handle some shopping anyway. Astrid can help. I’ll make sure she stays out of trouble.”
Seeing Astrid stiffen, Ingrid quickly smoothed things over. “Thank you, Henry. Very kind of you to take another voyage so soon after your last. Gregory, you don’t mind, do you?”
Gregory opened his mouth, but Ingrid was already out of her chair, taking her daughter firmly by the arm. As she hustled her from the room, she whispered fiercely, “That was a lucky escape, young lady. You’re not too old for a whipping! Henry just saved your skin. You’ll treat him kindly this afternoon, or I’ll be the one tanning your hide!”
Astrid blinked in shock. Her mother never spoke to her like that. Ingrid was usually the calm one—soothing arguments, defusing her father’s temper. But not today.
She said nothing, quietly stunned. Maybe this trip wasn’t a punishment after all.
Henry caught up with them just outside the hall.“We’ll head to the harbour through the Main Gate,” Astrid said, recovering. “We can take Swan, my sailboat. She’s fast—only fits two crew and us, but we’ll manage. I hope you know how to sail.”
She gave him a daring look. It felt strange—and a little thrilling—to be alone with him like this. No guards, no chaperone. Just sea, sails, and space to think.
Maybe this wasn’t such a bad arrangement after all.– Captain Finn
“Miss Astrid, sir, a good day for it, isn’t it? We’ll have a speedy trip over there. We are ready for you”.
Captain Finn was an imposing figure, all dressed in black, made a little less sinister by a yellow bow adorning his long ponytail. Before he lost his arm, he had sailed along every coast in the New World. Some said they are not always in the best company.
Onboard, they stood on the front deck to be out of the way while the crew cast off. The wind whistled around their ears, making them grateful they had brought their jackets and scarves.
Astrid was quite impressed by Henry’s knowledge of sailing.
He explained: “We might not live close to the sea, but the Wasting Loch is large enough to have its share of storms. Our estate lies on an island in the middle of the loch, or lake as you would call it. If you don’t learn how to handle a boat, you’ll never be able to get off the island in the spring. During the summer, when it’s dry enough, there’s a narrow land bridge. People always talk about how it’s a lot colder up there. The mountains around our lands, though, are the most beautiful in the world. You will love them”.
He sounded wistful. Astrid sensed how much he loved his home. She wondered if one day she could feel the same in that faraway, chilly place.
On the horizon, they could already spot the towers of the ancient city of London glittering in the sun. Everyone calls it the City now. One very high building had survived all the wars and the passage of time, looking like a shard of glass. It was always the first sign you were approaching that fantastic city.
She had only ever seen some of the original Londoners once. Masks always covered their faces while they hid their bodies behind voluminous robes. Even their breathing sounded strange.
“They’re all ugly monsters with long, sharp teeth and red eyes”, they used to say when they were kids trying to scare each other.
“Don’t ever go near them, or they might snatch you and take you inside”, their parents and teachers would tell them.
The entrance to the old city was restricted. Visitors had to stay on hotel boats in London. People from all over the Archipelago had come to make a living around the towering walls, adding more rafts to the existing ones. London was now more extensive than the old city. It lay like a horseshoe around the west side of the town.
The Main City harbour lay on the east side, only accessible to the colossal continental freighters from the Continent.
Anyone who tried to enter the city limits without a pass would soon see themselves escorted back outside. A second offence would get you hauled away, never to come back again.
Captain Finn planned to moor there to let the pair go on foot to the Market, which lay right at the foot of the City walls. They were all too busy mooring their boat for the next half hour, having to tack sharply upwind to overcome the tide going out. It was trying to push them aside. Henry was where needed.
Astrid was content to watch this man, with whom she would have to spend the rest of her life, skillfully jumping ashore and tying up the ropes. The Book could have chosen someone far worse for her. She and her friends had heard enough horror stories about how some families did not care who their daughters married to realise he could have been the right partner, were it not for Nicholas.
‘Besides, I would’ve run away if they had forced somebody horrible on me. Preferably with Nicholas if he hadn’t been such a coward.
She pretended to have fallen in love with her new husband to teach that stupid boy a lesson. Maybe he would change his mind if she could make him jealous.
He did love her; she was sure of it. She was still not convinced he meant what he said when he broke off with her.
“We are ready for you to disembark, miss”.
She startled out of her reveries. They finished mooring. The boat is tied up, and the gangplank is in place.
Henry stood at the bottom, waiting to escort her into town.