Epilogue
Being a queen was really, really fucking hard. My head thumped as I dropped into my seat at the long table in our private dining room, debating letting my face fall into the green pea soup just to give my neck a break from holding it up.
If I never saw a decree in need of my signature, it would be too damn soon.
“There, there.” Xiona patted me on the head. Hard. I slanted a glare in her direction, which earned me a shameless smile. “You’ll live.”
I gave her the middle finger.
She gasped and clutched her heart. “For me? Your highness, you shouldn’t have.”
I grumbled under my breath about smartass friends, trying not to think too hard about my other smartass friends, who hadn’t spoken to me in six months.
I couldn’t blame them. I felt every bit as responsible for Aerona’s death as they said I was.
It was my fault. She took the wound meant for me.
She was dead because I was alive. I’d hate me, too.
Who was I kidding? I did hate myself. No amount of late-night conversations with Kier would help me heal that loathing. I missed Aerona. I couldn’t stop seeing her staring up at me, covered in blood, that smirk on her face.
Love you, bitch.
Those words replayed through my head hourly, even six months later. So did the accusations and hate-filled words from my troupe in the aftermath.
It should be you buried in the ground, not her.
Death follows you too closely. If we stay in your shadow, it will find us too.
If it weren’t for your worthless existence, she’d still be here. You killed her with your crusade against Cleodora. If you’d left it alone, Aerona would still be with us.
And I’d still be compelled and under the Greenheart queen’s control, but I didn’t say that. My throat had been too tight to speak, so I’d just walked away.
Don’t bother coming back, Ryvan had said in a voice twisted up with tears. You’re no longer part of this troupe, Zabaletta.
So I didn’t. I walked away, and stayed here in Lazankh where I couldn’t get anyone else killed.
I heard they’d set up in a new theatre built in the capital, but I’d never once crossed paths with them during the trips Kier and I made for official business—our coronations and the celebration ball, the memorial for everyone lost in the civil war as it was now known as, and the treaty signed with the new king of Greenheart Court, a bit of a dick with a chip on his shoulder but a good heart deep down.
Deep, deep down. Some of his new lords though?
Those were assholes with a capital A. Kier and I were keeping our eye on them, and on the border where they’d already launched cannon fire one time.
The goblin lands would never be a place without tension.
Goblins were a lot like the humans I knew back in Seagrave—rough around the edges, coarse with their language, and fond of a nice fight on a Friday night.
They’d always crave violence, but we were here to enforce peace.
Ideally with rousing, powerful words, but if they didn’t listen, my sword had been bored for months. It’d be nice to bring her out again.
I’d named her Elaegaia, daughter of Gaia, for obvious reasons. Oh, and I prayed to the goddess a few times to make sure I was cool to keep the sword. She didn’t smite me from the face of the planet, so I guessed we were good.
Gentle fingers sifted through my messy hair where I was slouching over the dining table, half asleep. I forced my eyes wide, and sat back. “Definitely not asleep. Wide awake.”
Kier laughed, angling his head to kiss me. “You’re not allowed to fall asleep, when I searched the whole court for someone who knew how to make a coffee and walnut cake.”
I groaned, my mouth watering, a little more awake. Okay, I could stay conscious for cake, plus I still had plenty of orgasms to collect, and Kier needed to pay up later.
“I got you something, too,” I said, reaching into the pocket of my embroidered jacket.
It was a fancier style of clothes than I used to wear, but I’d had to make a few compromises when I was crowned.
I still had several knives concealed on my person, though.
You could take a girl out of the slums of Seagrave, but you could never take the Seagrave out of a girl.
Our anniversary was months ago, during those first few whirlwind months, and we were too exhausted to truly mark it, so we’d chosen today, exactly three months later, to celebrate our anniversary.
It was supposed to be a whole-day shindig, but of course some sword-happy dickhead decided to try and take control of Cyana, and we had to send warriors to calm the situation.
And guess what sending warriors came with…
? Did you guess paperwork? You’d be correct.
“I made this with my own fair hands,” I said, holding out a velvet pouch that contained a brand new pewter wedding ring for my husband.
The moment I found out his wedding ring was an heirloom passed down from his bastard father, I started making plans, taking sneaky lessons from Lazankh’s smiths, valiantly not thinking about Hames or the ring he forged for me that I still wore everyday.
Kier’s mouth parted when he saw the dragon cast with intricate, occasionally wonky details, its long body curled into a band and sapphires set in the eyes, like mine.
“Now you don’t have to wear anything that piece of shit former king ever wore,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder because I loved him and not because I wanted a quick nap.
“I love it,” he said with a small, tender smile, immediately exchanging his old ring for the new one and admiring the way it fit on his hand. “How did you do this?”
“Ways and means, my darling mate. Ways and means.”
“You think you sound mysterious,” Rook said, leaning around Kier to give me an amused look. “But you just sound dumb.”
“No feedback at this time, thank you,” I quipped, holding up my hand.
My power took that exact moment to take advantage of my tiredness and burst from my rings.
Baby landed in the middle of the table, knocking over a goblet of golden wine he promptly tried to drink from.
Valour skidded all the way down the middle, clearly miscalculating where she was going to appear, knocked over a chair, and splayed on the floor.
“And these two helped us win a civil war,” I drawled, giving them matching unimpressed stares, not quite able to stop my scowl softening when I looked at Valour.
I thought I’d lost her for a long time, and it took three whole weeks for my strength to recover, to feel her graceful, bloodthirsty presence again.
“Good thing we don’t have to fight another one,” Xiona remarked, watching Baby try to eat a chunk of cheese. “I think we’d all die this time.”
I groaned. “Don’t tempt fate. I don’t want any more battles, skirmishes, wars, tyrants, despots, or pretender kings. I just want to live peacefully, blissfully, happily ever after. Is that too much to ask for?”
“For you, Zaba?” Kier replied, pulling me onto his lap, his hand splaying across my thigh.
“You do realise peace requires you to exist without a dagger strapped to your leg…?” He pulled free my pretty new sapphire knife and dropped it on the table.
“Or two.” The one from my calf hit the table.
“Or three, four, five, six.” Boot one, boot two, second thigh, and the small of my back.
“Alright you’ve made your point. I’d like to live blissfully, happily, violently ever after.”
“Now that, mate, I can arrange.”
I ignored Rook’s and Xiona’s groans and vomiting noises as I fused my mouth to Kier’s and kissed him deep and hot and dirty. After everything we’d been through, everything we fought and overcame, I deserved this kiss.
And at least a thousand more.
Thank you all SO much for sticking with Letta and Kier’s story from beginning to end.