Epilogue
Cairn
Two Months Later
THE DAYS HAVE BEEN RAINY and cold, and my hooves are caked in mud more often than not. But today, the sky is a clear blue, with no clouds to be seen.
It’s going to be a perfect spring day.
I’ve settled into my new position here at the Columbine Conservatory—at least, as much as is possible after only a few months.
I’m not the type of person who adjusts easily to new situations, so it’s taken me some time to find my place here, but everyone has been warm and welcoming, and though the work is demanding—I’m outdoors sunup to sundown most days of the week—I thrive on it.
Today, I’m planting a new field of potatoes for the community garden. I created the hills and trenches yesterday, and now I’m lugging around bucketfuls of potatoes, bending to press them six inches into the dirt, then patting soil back around them gently.
The field is quiet save for the calling of crows in the nearby trees and the whisper of the spring breeze, so when I hear footsteps in the distance, it catches my attention.
I plant another potato, tuck it into the soil so it’ll stay warm, then straighten and lift one hand to shield my eyes against the morning sun.
There’s a figure walking toward me, but the sun is at their back, casting them in shadow.
Milo, maybe? He always makes a point to come say hello whenever he sees me working the fields or tidying the orchards, and surprisingly, I’ve appreciated the company. But this figure doesn’t have his lanky stride, and they’re not nearly tall enough to be Milo.
So, who is it?
I’ve met most—if not all—of the other employees here, but we’ve got lots of volunteers too, so there are always unfamiliar faces around. And though I’m not really in the mood to talk to someone new, I draw myself up and prepare a smile.
But as the figure moves closer, coming into focus, the smile is overtaken by surprise. My heart leaps into my throat, and I drop the basket of potatoes I’m carrying, letting it fall to the rich dark soil with a heavy thump.
Then my hooves are moving before I can stay them. And the closer I get to the little figure, the harder my heart beats in my chest.
Neither of us gets a word out before I’m taking her by the hips and lifting her up, twirling her around in the tilled potato field and making her laugh so loud that the crows start up another ruckus.
She’s wearing a pack on her back, and her hair is pulled into a messy braid, but a few curls have already escaped, and they frame her freckled cheeks as I set her on her feet and she tips her head back to look at me.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” I ask. “Ostara isn’t for another few days.”
Lyra shrugs and tips her head at me. “We’re on break at Coven Crest, so I thought I’d surprise you.” Her smile turns a bit shy. “I hope that’s okay . . .”
“Okay?” A laugh slips out of me. Then I take her face in my hands and press a kiss to her mouth. It’s been much too long since I last felt her lips on mine, and I linger until I need to draw a breath. When I pull back, I say softly, “It’s more than okay.”
We’ve been writing letters since the day I left the academy; I have a pile of correspondence from Lyra tucked away into the drawer in my nightstand.
The conservatory set me up with a small dwelling a short walk away from the grounds, and at night, when I’m feeling alone or am struggling to sleep, I light a candle and read Lyra’s letters, comfort myself with her quips about her classes and jokes about the professors.
But now here she is, in the flesh. I can see her, smell her, feel her.
With a sigh, I lean down and press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the slight scent of cinnamon that’s clinging to her hair.
Lyra reaches up, and her fingers brush the quartz crystal dangling from a cord around my neck.
“Is this from the fox?” she asks.
I nod. “I hear a crystal gifted is stronger than a crystal bought.”
She smiles. “Who told you a silly thing like that?”
Now it’s my turn to shrug. “Some crazy fire witch I know.”
“Crazy?” she asks, feigning shock. “I’m not the one who finds books on fungi fascinating.”
The laughter she draws out of me is true and deep. “Fungi is fascinating. Perhaps I’ll read you a chapter or two.”
“Or perhaps,” she says, reaching up again, this time to run her fingers over my beard, “we can do something else together.”
My cheeks flare with heat, and I’m grateful no one else is out here working the field with me.
Lyra smiles at my expense, then pushes up onto her toes, and I bend so she can press a kiss to my cheek.
“What’s in the bag?” I ask her.
“Oh, you know.” She shrugs out of the pack and lets it fall to the dirt, then rolls her shoulders out. “A few days’ worth of clothes, shoes, whatever else I might need.”
A smile threatens to pull on my mouth. “A few days’ worth of clothes?” One of my brows arches up. “So . . . you’re staying?”
“Of course I am.” Lyra plants her hands on her hips and tips her head at me.
Just then, Juniper pops her head out of the pocket of Lyra’s sweater and blinks her glassy eyes at me.
“You think I came all this way just to turn back around? Nope. You’re stuck with me.
At least until my classes start up again. ”
Now the smile is impossible to hold back. I wouldn’t want to be stuck with anyone else. Just her. Lyra Wilder, my little flame.
“Well then”—I pick up her pack and am surprised by its weight—“I suppose we should get you settled in.”
Lyra casts a glance toward my discarded basket of potatoes. “What about your work?”
“Oh, we’ll be back. Did you bring those gloves I bought you?”
Her eyes sparkle in the morning light. “Of course I did.”
“Good. Because we’ve got an acre of potatoes to plant.”
“It’s a good thing they’re fireproof,” she says as she reaches her arms overhead and stretches out her back.
I give her a startled look, and she laughs.
“Just kidding. I won’t burn anything down. I promise.”
With a roll of my eyes, I sling an arm around her shoulders, and she tries to loop her arm around my waist, but it doesn’t quite make it all the way around.
“Hey, Cairn?” she asks as we start out of the field and onto one of the little paths that meanders through the conservatory’s grounds.
“Hmm?”
She stops walking, forcing me to still my hooves and look down at her. Her eyes search mine, though for what, I’m not sure. Then her lips form the words I’ve secretly been aching to hear, have dreamt of her saying more times than I can count.
“I love you too.”
My heart thunders so hard that my blood roars in my ears. I’ve thought of this moment, have fantasized about all the things I’ll say, but now that I’m here, my mouth goes dry, and my tongue feels twisted into knots.
“I-I . . . Y-you . . .”
The words don’t want to come out. My cheeks flame with heat again.
But Lyra is just smiling at me. She presses herself to my side, like she doesn’t need me to say a thing at all. Like she knows exactly how I feel in return.
“And I love those vanilla-dandelion lattes too. So . . .” She glances up at me.
Finally, my tongue unwinds itself. I chuckle softly. “Yes, little flame, I’ll make you one. I’ll make you as many as you want.”
She squeezes my waist as we resume walking, then says, “I knew I came here for a reason.”
I roll my eyes at her and press a kiss to her head. “All about the lattes, hmm?”
“No,” she says softly, casting a glance up at me. Her gaze makes me want to melt into a minotaur-size puddle. “But they’re a close second.”
The sun warms my face as we walk the winding path together, her boots thudding softly while my hooves thump along, and I feel, perhaps for the first time in a very long time, that everything is going to be okay. That I don’t need to fear or worry or hide myself away.
That I can finally bloom.
And it’s all thanks to her.
THE END
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