Epilogue
Three Months Later
“Love?” Isabeau’s voice startles me as it cuts through the noise in the courtyard of Maudite Castle.
If not for Hunter’s gifts, I would not hear her whispered word over the din of hammering and chattering, over the thunking of tools on stone and earth, over the creaking of pulleys and carts’ wheels.
I am who I am, though, a Hunter of beasts. I hear everything. And my beast is not to be home from visiting the queen yet, but she is here. I hear her whispered word and the bevy of questions inside that one word.
My beloved is nothing if not obstinate.
And beautiful and brave and clever, my heart reminds me, offering up a litany of her charms.
After Gloriana departed, I realized that we didn’t have a deadline for a wedding, that the faery’s admonishment was simply that I must love Isabeau.
That, I already did. So I insisted Isabeau take time to think and heal and find peace with the recent revelations—about herself, about her mother’s death, about what I am.
Of course, my impetuous duke insisted she was ready to summon a minister that day.
In truth, I was, too. I wanted her to have time, though, to accept these truths about herself and about me.
Currently, she is still seated atop Woede as they wend through the crowd outside Maudite Castle.
The stark black of her cloak and trousers is not quite as dark as the massive horse, but the sight of the dark-clad duke and the massive horse unsettles the workers.
Almost unconsciously, the crowd parts to give extra room for her and for Woede.
I wonder sometimes whether the extra deference is because they sense her otherness as much as because she is the duke or the niece of the queen herself.
Whatever the reason, she cuts through this crowd as she does in every setting. She is power incarnate. My feral duke.
With effort, I tear my gaze from her and look down at the plans that are stretched out on the planks before me.
The castle yard is abuzz with masons and carpenters.
I thought I had the week to make progress on the plans I’ve been plotting in secret, yet here she is, only a mere two days after she left.
“I don’t recall expecting an army of workers in our courtyard.” Isabeau dismounts, and Woede mouths her shoulder before turning his attention to me.
I stroke the horse fondly, and he then wanders off to either graze or study the people in the courtyard.
Sometimes, I think he’s not entirely of this world, but I have no way of knowing.
Perhaps, like the wolves in the forest, he’s simply untamed enough that he accepts my unusual beloved the way only the wild can.
The way I do.
I lift my chin as Isabeau steps closer to me, adopting a posture better suited to a fight. The only thing I must fight, however, is the temptation to behave too affectionately in front of the assembled workers. “This was to be a surprise.”
“I am certainly surprised.” Isabeau smiles at me as if I have done something she finds enchanting. Honestly, though, she often looks at me that way over the smallest things. Isabeau makes no effort to hide how smitten she is. Casually, she asks, “May I ask what they are doing?”
I feel my cheeks flush. “Mostly repairs, but also adding a moat.”
“A moat?” she echoes.
“You said you wanted a moat. I cannot truly fill the water with venomous serpents, but I can give you a moat.” I feel foolish saying it. “When you found out what I am, you said—”
“I remember.” Isabeau takes my face in her hands, holding me still and staring into my eyes. The world falls away as she asks, “Are you letting me lock you away then, love?”
“Not exactly. I am agreeing that we should have a wedding. I waited to be sure you had time to reconsider, but . . .” I gesture at the masons and carpenters and assorted workers. “I am done with waiting. I thought a gesture might—”
Her lips take mine in a kiss that steals all my explanations. My elaborate gift is incomplete, but she understands the import all the same.
When she pulls back, she looks at me and says, “I was not in Regina Centrum to check on accounts. I wanted to ask Auntie Mor to let us have the wedding at the palace. She and the countess were both there, already making grand plans for the ceremony.”
I laugh at the absurdity of both of us trying to make grand gestures. “Of course they were. I suspect Mother has been plotting for this for years.” I pause and ask cautiously, “Are you . . . upset that your mother is not here?”
I don’t mention the fact that she killed the dowager duchess. Isabeau seems to be at peace with what happened, but weddings are often times for family. It was among the reasons I’ve hesitated.
“No. I wish my father were here. She tried to kill the woman I love. I have no regrets, love. I will always put you first.” Isabeau offers me her arm. “Come show me what changes you are making to our castle.”
“Inside or outside first?”
“Your favorite changes first.” She gives me a smile that makes me warm. She knows me, knows my tells and traits, in a way that I thought impossible to find.
“Armory!” I propel her toward the castle as she laughs.
I am not sure she’ll love everything, but the fighting space and armory I’ve envisioned in the smaller ballroom will certainly please her.
I suspect she’ll be happy at the small infirmary I’ve added as well.
The villagers at Fleuriste now supply much of the extra staff here—including one of Maria’s lot—as well as at Fleuriste Manor.
More challenges will come, of that I am certain, but I am confident that we can weather whatever they are because we are together.
Love is the magic that enables Isabeau to control her beastly transformation.
Love is why I am stronger than I was the day I became the Hunter.
My beastly duke is at my side, and we are united against all odds.
I don’t know what comes next, but I’m certain we can face it together.