His adventures in Ironhope and his journey across Syldriss with the responsibility of the exiles weighing heavily on him had changed something in Klane. The wanderlust he had experienced had been sated by the Great Burning, and he realised how much he had missed his life partner. It was time to mature and to stop this futile quest for vengeance on the Conclave. “I am sorry, Lucalle”, he began simply. “I have much to tell you. But, I must say first that if it pleases you, I would come back for good and never desert you again.” Something in the queen thawed a little and Klane understood that not all was lost. He held up his hand. “Do not answer me now. I would beg leave that first you hear my tale and then you may judge as you wish.” Klane was not without a certain guile after all. He knew the queen’s curiosity would keep her from rejecting him straightway, and he knew that the prospect of the prizes of Ironhope with a blacksmith and a community of other useful skills to add to the strength of her tribe would be an offer she could not easily turn down. By the time he had finished his story, Lucalle was smiling again. In truth, despite their quarrels, she had been hurt by his departure and had longed for Klane’s return. He could tell that he was forgiven. “You may kiss me now”, she said archly. “As my queen commands”, Klane answered her.