Chapter 51
QUINN
Iwoke with the unmistakable weight of grief. Tears sprang to my eyes before I had the chance to open them. The ache arrived at once, sharp and merciless, as if my heart had waited behind a locked door and someone had flung it open without warning.
I should have said it sooner.
I love you.
Three words. I whispered them too late, after he fell asleep, after the world began to slip through my fingers again.
And now he was gone.
They all were.
Light pooled at the edges of the tower’s familiar room. My limbs ached as I sat up slowly. I scrubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand and swung my legs to the floor.
That was when I saw him.
A man stood in the corner.
A stranger.
His skin was deep umber; thick braids hung to his shoulders, bound with golden clasps. His coat was a rich emerald, tailored in a style I had never seen.
I gasped and stumbled back against the headboard. “Who are you?” My voice came hoarse, splintered with disuse and fear. “What do you want?”
He lifted his hands. “Easy,” he said. “Everything is well.”
It did not feel well.
Not until I heard the other voice.
“He’s with me, princess.”
My head snapped toward the sound.
Leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, smile wide as the open sky.
“Mav?”
His name shattered on my lips with a sob. He looked different, perhaps a bit older. A few strands of silver threaded his chestnut hair, and fine lines had begun to form at the corners of his hazel eyes. But he was still him. Still mine.
I jumped to my feet, swaying. His smile deepened as he stepped forward, catching me before my legs could fail entirely. I fell into his arms. My fingers clutched his shoulders, demanding proof under my hands.
“I do not understand,” I choked. “It has been a century, how are you alive?”
“Well, it hasn’t been a hundred years,” he murmured, cradling the back of my head. “Only seven.”
My breath broke.
He drew back and framed my face with his hands. “I found someone who could help,” he said. “The man there, Xabracles, he’s a Time.”
“A Time,” I echoed, tears spilling. “Then that means—”
“You’re free, Quinn.” He smiled and brushed away a tear with his thumb. “We’re free.”
Free.
I launched into Mav and kissed him with tears at the corners of my mouth. He kissed me back as if he would never let me go. When we parted, I was shaking. He guided me to the edge of the creaking bed.
Lifting my eyes toward the door where Xabracles stood, I whispered, “Thank you.”
Xabracles bowed his head and slipped out of the room.
“Tell me everything,” I said, eyes tracing every detail of Mav’s face.
His thumb drew slow circles on the back of my hand. “It took six years to find him,” he said softly. “Six months to convince him to cross the world with me, and another six months to make the journey.”
“You went around the world?” I stared, eyes filling again.
“I would’ve torn the stars down if someone could’ve given me one more day with you. Then, one night, I found Xabracles working as a clockmaker.”
“A clockmaker,” I repeated, a tear slipping over my cheek. “How poetic that a Time would work with machines marking the hours.” I glanced at the door. “Why did he agree to help?”
“Turns out he’s a hopeless romantic,” Mav said with a smirk.
“The spell is gone?”
“Gone,” he said, cupping my cheek. “Now, there’s something I’ve been waiting a long time to say to you—”
“I love you!” I exclaimed. “I love you entirely and endlessly. I should have spoken my feelings sooner—”
He kissed me before the spiral carried me away. Once, soft and certain, like he had waited years to do it exactly like this. “You did,” he murmured against my lips. “And I heard you.”
The way he looked at me unmade everything I thought I knew about love. “I love you too,” he said. “I have loved you for seven years…and a fortnight.” Then he shifted, dropping to one knee on the worn plank floor. “And I intend to make that forever, if you’ll have me.”
My heart stumbled over itself.
He withdrew a ring. Simple. Elegant. Scuffed metal shaped into a delicate circle.
“I had it forged from my knight’s armor,” he said. “A vow that I will protect you, stand beside you, and that I’ll always come back for you. No matter how far I must go or how long it takes.”
Tears flowed freely down my smiling cheeks.
“Will you marry me, Quinn?”
The world tilted—not with fear, not with confusion, but with awe. With the sensation of something settling into its rightful place.
“Yes,” I whispered, tears bright. “Yes, yes, yes—forever.”
I dropped to my knees too, and kissed him. Mav’s mouth smiled against mine. I kissed him with every second we had lost.
He slid the ring onto my finger, and it felt as if it had always been meant to rest there.
He rose, helping me to stand. “There are a few people waiting to say hello.”
He guided me down the stairs and out into the sunlight. Beyond the ivy-draped arch stood two people and one cat I had fiercely missed.
Thistle reached me first, dark curls bouncing, eyes already brimming. “It worked!” She flung herself into me with an embrace so hard I nearly toppled.
I laughed and cried and held her tight.
Vesper bounded up, wrapping himself around my legs. “Welcome back, Quinn.”
“Hello, handsome,” I whispered, crouching to stroke his fur. “Did you keep them in line for me?”
“You know I did,” He said with a smirk.
Branrir stood a few paces off, arms crossed, his face crumpling in the way that only love allows. He stepped forward, and I met him halfway with a quiet embrace.
A thread of panic wove through me. “What about the king? We killed Edric and fled. “I used Twilight magic in front of the court. I am already condemned.”
“When the court woke, all they found was a dead king and an empty throne. And what do frightened nobles do when a mystery threatens their power?” Branrir’s eyes gleamed. “They invent stories.”
A crease formed upon my brow. “What stories?”
“Depends on the house. Some say Edric ascended to the heavens as a Saint. Others claim he fell defending Avandria from invisible foes. A few whisper that you killed him and fled with your ghost lover.”
Mav’s grin flashed white. “My personal favorite, as the ghost lover in question.”
“They do not know?” My voice shook. “No one truly knows what happened?”
“Most fear the truth too much to seek it.” Branrir shrugged.
Thistle chimed in, “While they bickered, a regency council rose up. A puppet king sits on the throne now—a boy barely old enough to hold a sword. The real power’s in the council’s hands.”
“But what of the witnesses?” I asked.
“To those in the ballroom, you vanished in a blaze of silver light,” Branrir explained. “To the common folk, you’re a savior. To the nobles, you’re a nightmare. Either way, you’re untouchable. They don’t dare declare war on you because half the realm would rise to your banner.”
Thistle smirked. “Children play at being you in the streets. They call themselves Twilights and pretend to fight tyrants.”
Branrir’s voice dropped to a reverent rumble. “You’re their bedtime story now. The kind parents whisper to make their little ones behave—or to give them courage.”
My thoughts spun, frantic and unmoored. “So we are not fugitives?”
He laughed, full-throated and wild. “Fugitives? Saints, you’re the most powerful woman in the realm—and they don’t even know if you’re real.”
“And I say we keep it that way,” Thistle added.
I turned to Mav, who had been silent through it all, his thumb stroking the back of my hand. “Are we truly free?”
Mav nodded. “Yes, we are free,” he said with a squeeze of my hand.
I looked up at him through wet lashes. “Where to now?”
He smiled. “Home.”