“He was a hero,” Lois said softly.

“Bahtzen bizzle.” Coralis’s curse had no bite to it. He could not even summon enough emotion to shout. He did not tell them that he had reconnected with Randall and had stayed with him to the very end. He could never tell them how he had let the love flow from his own heart, adding it to that of that brave young lad. His son.

He wanted to tell them that Randall’s sacrifice had been for the greater good. He wanted to tell them that it had been for the best. But he could not find the words. He wasn’t entirely sure he would believe them if he could.

One thing he did believe: He would never forgive himself for his role in these events. It would never have come to this if he hadn’t been so stupid, lazy, and shortsighted. He had failed Randall.

“But you still have me.” Henry sent the thought to Coralis. The old man smiled. “Indeed I do,” he sent back. He stood, brushed the dirt from his coat, and walked out of the hogan. Joseph and Serena followed him.

“Mom?” Henry hung his head, afraid that if he were to look up, the tears he had been holding back would overflow. “What’s going to happen to Dad?”

Lois rushed to his side and embraced him in a loving hug. “Oh, Henry.” She sighed. “I don’t know. But he’s still out there. There’s still hope.” Her body shook with quiet tears, and Henry could not hold his own back any longer. He allowed himself to cry. All the stress, tension, sadness, and joy of the past week were released in waves of tears.

He wept for Randall—that poor falcon he had trapped in his garage so long ago. He wept over what he had done to his sister. He wept for whatever Malachai had done to his father.

When the tears were gone, he felt no better. Brianna curled onto his lap. He picked her up and kissed her on the nose. “I’m so sorry.”

The old Navajo woman looked upon the scene in silence. She said something in her native language and motioned for Henry to hand over his sister. Murmuring so softly that only Brianna could hear, the old woman cradled her in her hands and left the hogan.

“It would appear,” said Lois, “our journey is not yet over.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“Ach! Not again! Shoo, Sophia! Shoo!” Gretchen ran after the bear, flapping her apron like a matador’s cape. Like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar, the four hundred pounds of fur scooted out of the garden and, with great effort, through a hole in the perimeter wall of the castle compound.

Overlooking the drama from high above on a battlement, Coralis bellowed, “You can’t win, you know. That mangy beast eats better than we do.”