Hymn of Breath and Bone (The Whispering Sea Duet #2)

Epilogue

It had taken a year.

A year of meetings and conflicts and negotiations and patient teaching. But finally, it happened. The Silent Isles were thriving. The people were integrating. Trade with Nordhavn was flourishing. And for the first time, Caspian and I were not needed every moment of every day for some crisis or other.

And so, leaving Astraios and Sereia with strict instructions on how to reach us should some emergency arrive within the three weeks this voyage would take, we sailed from the Silent Isles for the first time in a year.

It had been so wonderful to be back on the open sea and breathing in the winter wind and waves that I thought Caspian might cry from the joy of it. He played his lyre each sunset, earning eye rolls from Zephyr as Ana and I clapped and encouraged him. Reuben taught me to make his famous stew, although I declined lessons on the gray mush. For the first time in a year, I felt truly free.

“Are you nervous?” Caspian asked as we neared our destination, the port of a new, unexplored town coming into view.

“I’m excited,” I corrected, bouncing on my heels next to him as we anticipated our arrival, ready to greet our hosts.

Making this trip happen had been something of a diplomatic headache, which made me all the more excited that we were finally here.

“Why? Are you nervous?”

“I’m always nervous taking you to new places,” Caspian sighed dramatically, earning a poke in the ribs from me. He retaliated with a smacking kiss that made the mixed siren and selkie crew jeer and laugh, but I didn’t care.

It turned out that selkies made damn fine sailors, as Caspian put it, and having control of both wind and sea on our voyage had meant that the trip, estimated as a ten-day passage north, took only five.

“Fair winds and following seas,” Caspian commented, as we weighed anchor and made port, the crew tying off the mooring as Zephyr readied the gangplank.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, glancing between us. “It could be dangerous.”

“More dangerous than nearly dying to stop a five-centuries-long war between our peoples?” Caspian jested. “I think not.”

“He has a reputation, you know,” Ana said, looking nervously around at the port.

“So do I,” Caspian pointed out.

“And we’re not here for him,” I reminded them, smiling up at my mate as he wrapped a confident arm around my shoulders. My trunks were packed with enough medicine to get me safely back to the Isles if this didn’t work, but I hoped that the vial in my pocket would be my last.

If not, it would be fine. I’d learned to live with my illness. To view it as a part of me, but not what defined me. Caspian told me repeatedly that I could cough constantly for the rest of my life, and he would still love me, although he might begin sleeping with earplugs.

Regardless, it wouldn’t hurt to try, and I couldn’t deny the thrill of exploring a new land.

“Ready?” Caspian asked, holding out his hand.

I clapped it in mine, smiling up at him. My love and my mate, the male I had chosen and would choose a thousand times over if asked to do it all again.

From the water, Phyll snorted a spout of water in encouragement.

“Ready,” I agreed, as the gangplank lowered and we stepped into a foreign land.

“King Caspian. Queen Marina,” called a smooth, accented voice as we made our way down the docks toward the welcome party.

The male who had spoken was tall and broad-shouldered, built with a little less muscle than Caspian and garbed in elegant black. Two black horns curved from his head, where his hair was cut short on one side, and his eyes held both amusement and interest as he regarded us.

A burly, bearded male with antler-like horns stood behind him and bowed in greeting, alongside a short, dark-haired female who elbowed him in the ribs. I recognized the gesture as one of warning one’s mate to be polite, having used it myself many times in the last year.

Next to them, a tall, beautiful male with flowing auburn hair held the hand of a delicate, blonde female. Neither had horns, but both had an air of power and magic I couldn’t put my finger on.

But the female who spoke next was the one I knew we had come to see. She was dressed in glittering black as well, her red hair spilling down her back as her green eyes lit in welcome.

The black-horned male put his arm around the female, the queen, as she said. “My name is Elara. Welcome to the Darklands.”