Chapter 22
The sun was sinking behind the western mountain when Frye raised his cup. Around the hall, people did the same. It was a toast to start the celebration.
“To Magana,” Frye said.
“To Magana,” they echoed.
Beside him on the high table were all the elders and Markle. Markle took a sip of the wine and made a face. It was bitter compared to the sweet grapes they harvested farther east. He’d grow used to it. Or else they’d have to import some more to his tastes.
When Markle had left with Sabriea and the others in tow, Frye had gone into detail about his adventure. The elders were shocked that they had been hoodwinked so easily, and they begged forgiveness again. Frye hadn’t wanted to hear it. The past was done. Moving forward was what mattered. He would not hold it against them
