Epilogue
Kieran
Time is peculiar here. I can’t really explain myself how it works.
Winter creeps in, slow and merciless. Snow lies inches deep on the ground that only weeks ago was carpeted in brittle autumn leaves. The maroon and orange Cassandra so adores bleeds into blinding white across the whole Court.
Even so, streets stay busy. Shops celebrate the new season with decorations and warm spiced wine. The little things we’ve learned to appreciate since being banished from the stars.
It hasn’t been all bad, the three centuries I’ve been here.
Sure, it was hell when it was just me and a few cranky bastards who wouldn’t shut up about how miserable every bloody thing was. No restaurants. No markets. No taverns. Just endless fighting.
But over time, as more fallen Fae arrived, we adapted. We argued, we fought, we broke things and rebuilt them again—until slowly, we carved out a city. Our borders stretched. We even came up with our own festivals and traditions.
It became our home.
And no matter what anyone says, I couldn’t have built this alone. The people made it what it is today, and I wouldn’t trade anything for it.
Except Cassandra.
I would tear it all down, even turn human—if it ever came to that.
The truth is, no matter how much sweat and blood you put into something, you can never please everyone. There will always be those who undermine me, who rebel when they don’t get what they want.
If I can resolve it, then fine, we’ll sort it out.
But if they ever so much as lay a hand on my mate, then they fucking burn.
Precisely what’s waiting for Atticus, when we finally catch him.
It’s been weeks since the coronation, and the prick is still in the wind.
Gone. Just like that.
I don’t know what unsettles Cass more: that, or the fact that Lucas is now Fae.
She has barely spoken a word to him since, and it pains me to see her like that, especially when I can’t do a damn thing about it.
Though, I’ll admit, part of me was relieved that I didn’t have to bring Declan back.
Believe it or not, I’m not a fan of welcoming my mate’s ex-boyfriend into the picture.
The stars are cruel bastards. Even if she asked me to wipe his memories of her, if fate dragged him to her once, it’s bound to happen again.
But that’s no longer my concern.
The fact that we have scoured every inch of this Court, using all the resources and magic at our fingertips and haven’t found Atticus tells me one thing: he isn’t here.
And I know he can’t be in the human world. Not this long, anyway.
Which confirms the suspicion that’s been gnawing at me, so I sent Gideon and Virgil out to patrol—outside the Court.
After four days, they return this afternoon, their brows drawn tight.
I thank the stars Cass is out in Asterhollow with the human-turned-Fae. It’s one of the things she does every week now, and I think it’s great she’s found something of her own beyond politics.
“What is it?” I ask as they approach.
“You’re never going to believe where we’ve been,” Gideon mutters.
“Try me.”
“We finally found them,” Virgil says, his tone sharp as blade. “One of the other fallen courts.”
I lean back on my chair, a grin tugging at my mouth.
“They call themselves the Court of Shadows, and we only stumbled them thanks to our shadowborn assassins.” Gideon’s gaze flicks to Virgil, whose chin lifts with the quiet pride of a general whose army just proved itself indispensable.
“Well, I assume by the fact that you two are standing here in one piece that they’re not entirely hostile?”
“Not just that. They already know about us. About you.” Virgil pauses, then produces an envelope and places it on the desk before me. “Word of you taking the throne has reached them, and they are requesting an audience—here, of course, since you can’t leave.”
I pick up the envelope. Inside, neat strokes of elegant handwriting in black ink scribble across the paper, sealed with an unfamiliar crest. A formal visitation request.
The date they propose is three weeks from now.
But it’s the final line that makes my blood roar.
I believe our interests align, and it’s time we talk about your brother.
Yours truly,
King Silas of the Court of Shadows.
The envelope turns into smoke a few seconds after I finish reading.
Neat trick.
“Oh yeah,” Gideon flinches. “They love practical jokes over there. Even more so than us.”
I laugh, the sound echoing off my office walls. “Let them come. I’ll draft a response later.”
“You don’t think it’s a trap?” Virgil presses.
I drum my fingers on the armrest of my chair, considering it for a minute.
We have been here for over three centuries, and in that time I’ve heard whispers of other Fallen Courts.
If they truly have known about us all this time and haven’t attacked or reached out until now, then I doubt they are our enemy.
“We won’t know for sure until they’re here.” I decide at last, voice hardening. “And if they’re harbouring fugitives—” My smirk returns. “—then I need to know.”
Atticus wasn’t working alone. He couldn’t have done.
The question is who was pulling his strings?
And then there’s the mention of my brother. Very intriguing.
After all, I believe we all fell from the same Court. My family reputation precedes them. I wonder why King Silas waited until now to reach out.
I lean back, my grin deepening.
This is going to be fun.
TO BE CONTINUED