Epilogue
Fuck marriage.
Fuck weddings.
And fuck Ariesian for giving him no other choice.
Nyxian adjusted the large sack on his back as he clung to the shadows, trekking quietly over damp cobblestone through Celestine’s city center.
Nightfall was in his favor, and the sliver of moon was hidden by a veil of silver clouds, making it all the easier for him to escape without notice.
By the time the first glow of dawn pierced the horizon tomorrow, he would be long gone, and his family would be none the wiser.
Tomorrow afternoon he was supposed to marry Lady Aria Skyhelm.
They were to say their vows in the gardens of House Celestine, and then have a grand reception in the ballroom, surrounded by family and a few dozen people he couldn’t care less about.
Novalise and Sarelle spent hours preparing for the ceremony, and he almost felt guilty knowing they wasted so much time.
Almost. They ordered the cake, chose the decorations, and curated the guest list. When Nyxian asked if Lady Aria had given any input, one would have thought he’d slapped his sisters across their pretty faces.
They both looked absolutely struck by panic, if not a little pitying.
Come to find out, Lady Aria had granted them full permission to plan every detail of the wedding on their own, because she wanted nothing to do with it. Something Nyxian roughly translated into her wanting nothing to do with him.
Well, good riddance.
He didn’t want to marry her either. She was probably rubbish between the sheets, anyway.
Nyxian winced, like he could imagine Ariesian smacking him on the back of the head for such a disrespectful thought.
As much as he hated to admit it, Lady Aria was likely the opposite.
In fact, he would wager money that she was amazing in the bedroom.
He’d seen her plenty of times, though they rarely spoke to one another, but he knew she had luscious bronze curves, full lips, and he would gladly sink his teeth into her round ass if she let him.
He gritted his teeth.
That was also not a very chivalrous thought.
Still, her beauty aside, that wasn’t enough to sway him to want to be shackled to her forever.
He had his reasons for never wanting to marry, not like Ariesian would ever hear him on the matter. Lord Starstorm was more concerned with forging ties between the houses of Aeramere than with the true happiness of his brothers and sisters.
Nyxian clung to the far wall of a building, darting across an empty alley, and when he glanced behind him to ensure he wasn’t being followed, he spied the inn where Lady Aria and her family were staying.
A few warm lights glowed from within, and part of him wondered if she was awake too, if she was trying to plot her own escape.
Unlikely. If anything, he imagined she was sound asleep on a plush bed, blissfully unaware that her future husband was abandoning her in the dead of night.
Turning away from the inn, he padded softly toward the outskirts of the city square, passing the gurgling fountains and all the pretty shops.
And he tried not to think about how Lady Aria would react when she awoke in the morning and learned he was gone.
It wasn’t as though her reputation would suffer for it, at least not too terribly.
There would likely be some unsavory rumors and some foul suggestions about her character, but there were plenty of other lords for her to choose from.
He had it on good authority that Lady Aria was always surrounded by males at every event she attended, and he saw no reason to deprive her of their attention since it was quite clear she thoroughly enjoyed it.
She would be fine, he told himself. It wasn’t like they were in love. In fact, they barely spoke at all. He knew practically nothing about her, and he was sure everything she thought she knew about him was a lie. Fucking stars, he didn’t even know the color of her eyes.
Veering away from the city, Nyxian continued on his way to the docks.
Celestine overlooked the Arcasian Sea, and though they didn’t have a proper port like Azurvend, the small inlet was capable of docking a few ships at a time.
And that was really all he needed. Because Tovian’s ship was anchored there, like treasure on the open sea.
Tovian was originally supposed to sail at the start of Midsummer, and avoid the marriage season altogether, but like the loyal brother he was, he opted to stay until after Nyxian’s wedding. Again, there was another twinge of guilt, but Nyxian shoved it aside.
This was the perfect opportunity.
His only opportunity.
Now, Nyxian knew how to sail on his own. He’d taken lessons from Aran Ruhdneah, the High Prince of Faeven and a master of the seas. And it helped that Tovian’s ship was smaller and required no crew. Of course, when a ship has magical bearings, a crew becomes insignificant.
Beneath a hazy wash of moonlight, Tovian’s ship glimmered like a beacon.
It was smooth and sleek, with curving lines and svelte railings.
Navy sails were lowered and pinched, bound with rope, patiently waiting to be unfurled in the name of adventure.
The ship itself was hardly equipped for anything other than exploring distant lands, which was exactly what Nyxian planned to do.
The Fair Isles were calling his name, beckoning him like a siren’s song.
He craved the delicious sun and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his days lounging on the sand and getting drunk off coconut rum.
His footfalls were silent as he crept along the dock. Mist rolled around him, swallowing him in stealth. He carefully lowered his pack of supplies and clothing onto the main deck of the ship, then leapt over the railing, his landing as soundless and still as a feather.
He pulled his compass out from under his shirt, lifting it in the pale shreds of light slipping through murky clouds.
It hung on a necklace of knotted leather for safekeeping, and he looked at it every night.
Aran picked it up from a shop called Belladonna’s on their travels and had given it to Nyxian as a gift.
He wore it every day since his return to Aeramere, tucked safely beneath his shirt, and every so often Aran’s voice slipped into his mind, reminding him to heed his warning.
For this particular compass would only point toward Nyxian’s one true desire.
Flipping it open, the needle spun and whirred, before finally pointing toward the stern of the ship. Toward the sea. Toward the Fair Isles and freedom.
It was time.
He climbed three steps toward the helm and looked up. At the top of the mainmast was a flag—silver, sapphire, and violet, complete with the Starstorm family crest—and the colors rippled in the warm breeze.
Nyxian grinned.
The wind would be on his side.