Bare Your Teeth, Wicked Ones

Epilogue

Matilda Jessica Vandervult would not allow William to return to anything less than perfection. She had raised her boys to be more than needy and demanding lords. They could sweep and dust alongside everyone else. She toiled away in William's room, ensuring all of his books were placed neatly on the shelves, and all the new ones waited on the bedside table.

Arthur had taken the carriage to retrieve William from the port. Matilda had wanted to join, but Arthur convinced her to stay home and ensure everything was perfect for William's return. Richard and Henry took a trip into town days ago to acquire William clothes, enough for him to comfortably rest before they could take the trip themselves. Oh, Matilda had a list of all the places they would visit.

A new amphitheater had been built near town square where the local theater and musicians put on plays and shows every week. A bookstore had been built a whole three stories high with a small cafe that he could spend his afternoons in. A string of restaurants opened over the years that had become family favorites, but the family had never been whole. Even dinners at home were a cold reminder because the Vandervult's always set the table for William, too.

Sniffling, Matilda wiped the stray tears from her cheeks. They had consumed her since Robert dashed out of his office a month ago. She lectured him about running. His knee had gone bad over a decade ago, but he hadn't heard a word. Robert swooped her up in his arms and declared the war had ended. Fearworn was dead, but most important of all, their baby would board the first ship home. They fell to the floor together and weeped.

A month of worry passed. The sea was treacherous, but none dared speak of the potential hazards. William could not be lost when he was so close to coming home. And finally, the day had come. Arthur had been staying at a hotel near the port for a week, and a good thing, too. The ship arrived a day early. Arthur sent a letter that he and William would take the evening at the hotel to rest, then come the following day, so the estate had time to prepare.

In truth, preparations had started the moment William left. Asiatic lilies overtook the garden, William's favorite, and Matilda would not have any other flower planted. She liked having tea out there, pretending William sat across from her with his nose in a book or toiling over the stitching of his clothes.

Robert didn't like sitting in the garden. He mourned in a different way, in avoidance. His actions initially infuriated her, but as the weeks, then months, and years went by, she understood why.

If Robert looked into William's room, if he entered the library or the garden, he withered. He became a shell of his former self, overridden by guilt, then rage. He drank when he wasn't a drinker and it was unpleasant, so she made sure William's bedroom door was closed and the staff acquired books Robert needed from the library. He did better working, waiting, preparing for William's return rather than lingering on him being gone.

Matilda halted outside Robert's office. Inside, he spoke with Richard and Henry.

"I worry for her," Richard said. The heels of his shoes clicked across the floor in a regular pacing pattern. "Mother is excited to have William back. We all are, but he will not be as we remembered. Henry has told us as such."

Matilda wrung her hands together, recalling Henry's return from the frontlines. She had been desperate to hear from him because William had been silent for too long. The army had stopped sending personal letters once they went into the Deadlands, into the most dangerous territory and gave little more than updates to a few families.

Robert wrote to the king, but they received nothing more than a statement that William was alive. Henry had seen him, had spoken to him, and assured Matilda that he was doing well. She was not foolish enough to believe Henry shared every detail, that he didn't carefully choose every word to reassure her.