Epilogue
POPPY
The morning sun on Sueva erupts from the horizon line.
It pours over the edges of the valley like liquid gold, painting our wooden porch in lazy strips of light.
I breathe the crisp morning air, at peace.
CLANG.
Raising an eyebrow, I take a sip of my Suevan coffee-alternative and look over the railing.
At the far end of the porch, Vael crouches on his hands and knees, wearing nothing but a pair of loose, Sueva-spun grey trousers that hang dangerously low on his hips.
His broad, muscular back is fully exposed to the sun, the scales along his spine glittering like rubies.
Half-flared, his wings twitch, concentrating as he holds a heavy metal wrench in his clawed hand.
"Vael," I say, leaning my hip against the wooden railing. "What are you doing to my porch swing?"
He doesn't look up immediately. He delivers another twist of the wrench, a satisfying metallic clank sounding as he secures a bolt.
He stands up, stretching his huge frame, his hair falling across his face in a wild, bedroom-mussed halo. He points a blunt talon at the innocent bench hanging from the rafters. "The instructions provided were insufficient.”
"It's a porch swing," I say, walking over and resting my hand on his bare side. I love how warm he is, like my own personal heater. "It's meant to rock back and forth. It doesn't need to survive a siege."
"It was suspended by links that would shear under any significant load," Vael counters gravely. His long red tail immediately snakes around my ankle, claiming me with its usual possessive warmth. "I replaced the brass with high-tensile cables."
I look up at the heavy cables now holding up my rustic wooden swing. "And what, exactly, is the load capacity of my reading bench now?"
"It can comfortably sustain the impact of three fully armored Draegon officers executing a defensive drop," Vael-Torin states proudly.
"Or, more realistically, it will successfully support the mass of one human female, her extensive collection of books, and one retired Draegon warrior who intends to hold her on his lap while she studies.
" An eyebrow arches. “Although we could test the tensile strength another way.”
A laugh bubbles up. I set my mug down on the porch rail and wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face in his skin.
"You are so ridiculous," I whisper. "I love it."
"All for you," he rumbles, his hands cupping my ass to effortlessly hoist me up.
I wrap my legs around his hips, and Vael carries me over to our upgraded porch swing.
Vael settles me sideways across his lap, his red wings curling completely around us to block out the cool morning breeze. He rests his chin on the top of my head.
I lean back against his solid chest, opening my Sueva law textbook, resting it on my knees.
"How is the vocabulary progression?" Vael asks, his thumb lazily tracing the soft skin of my bare shoulder.
"They're actually pretty simple compared to Earth law," I say, tracing a line of alien script on the page.
"It’s mostly just: 'If you break the contract, the warlords get to throw you in a swamp.
' I think I can pass their exams by next month.
The local magistrates won't know what hit them when I start auditing their land grants. "
"They will be entirely dismantled by your intellect," Vael-Torin agrees. He presses a lingering kiss to the side of my neck, his lips warm against my pulse point. “But remember... Tati's instructions command that you limit your cognitive exertion to four hours a day."
"I know, I know," I sigh, leaning into his kiss. "No overworking. And no baby-making practice until my stress is lower."
Vael-Torin lets out a groan of disappointment, his tail tightening around my leg. "The contraceptive has eleven months remaining. I believe Tati is overly conservative in her timelines."
"We have plenty of time, Vael," I murmur, turning my head to capture his lips.
The swing rocks gently beneath us, suspended by cables that could probably hold a small spaceship.
We survived.
And then we built this place, together.
I break the kiss, resting my forehead against his.
We’re home.