Epilogue
One year later . . .
Ana pushed her shoulders back, took a deep breath, and walked to the lectern in front of the small crowd of book lovers.
Rupert and Celestia were in attendance. Ana had become fast friends with her sister-in-law, who, after reading her book, had become her biggest supporter.
It was she who had organized a group of ladies into a book club.
They’d read The Dragon and the Blue Star and sent her a long list of surprisingly detailed questions to answer.
The book club ladies were in attendance, sitting in the first row.
One was garbed as Princess Amsonia with a sapphire diadem circling her brow.
Another had chosen to come as the Faery Queen, holding her young child in her lap, plump and adorable in a cleverly constructed hedgehog costume.
Still another was wearing a golden horn atop her head, portraying one of the queen’s unicorn guards.
And Qavox was there, of course. Standing at the back of the room against the wall, arms crossed over his muscular chest, glaring at everyone most fiercely as if to say: This authoress is under my protection, heckle her at your peril.
Tessie sat with her George by her side, who had been so moved by Ana and Dex’s second wedding that he’d proposed to Tessie that very evening.
McArdle was there, wearing a sour expression, but clutching his cherished copy of The Dragon and the Blue Star that Ana had already signed for him.
Mr. Norwood had organized a series of book readings for her at London’s premier bookshops.
And he’d sent her one of the coveted velvet bags when the first printing of the novel had sold out.
She wasn’t certain but she was beginning to suspect that her little novel was outselling most of his list. He didn’t want to admit it to her, of course, though he had shown her the dubious of honor of insisting on attending today.
“This book is dedicated to my father, Lieutenant John Crewe. He read the first pages I wrote but, sadly, never read the last. I miss you every day, dear Papa.” She took a steadying breath. She felt her father’s beaming presence, as well as Lady Claridge’s, giving her strength and confidence.
She held the weighty book, reveling in the feel of the royal blue cloth binding, the smoothness of the paper’s gilded edges. Lulu’s drawing of the dragon never failed to thrill Ana. Her friend was much in demand as a literary illustrator now that the book was a success.
She began reading from the final chapter, amusement tickling her throat as she saw several members of the audience mouthing the words along with her, as though they had memorized her words by heart.
When she reached the last paragraph, her eyes misted over. She loved this part the most.
Chanting a strange incantation, Gaethryn drew a rune in the air. The figures glowed with an unearthly blue fire, then drifted away like smoke across the still waters.
Amsonia was suddenly conscious of the dragon’s massive figure to her right, rippling, shifting, dwindling. She turned, and then she saw him for the first time: Prince Qavox reborn. A tall man, broad of shoulder and stern of face.
“My dragon,” she murmured, pressing herself to him.
“My princess,” he replied, his arms encircling her.
And then, for long minutes, the only sound was the clamor of their hearts.
The Faery Queen looked on with a benevolent smile.
Qavox the Dragon had been conquered by the brave Princess Amsonia, and all was right with the world.
As the last words lingered in the air, and enthusiastic applause erupted, Mr. Norwood rose from his seat and moved to stand beside her.
“Ladies and gentlemen, before the question and answer, I have an announcement to make.”
Ana tilted her head, mystified.
“Because of the popularity of Her Grace’s novel, beloved by yourselves and so many others across the realm, it is my great honor to announce that Norwood & Pennington will be publishing more novels by her esteemed ladyship.”
“A sequel to The Dragon and the Blue Star?” asked the lady dressed as Amsonia.
“Perhaps, in due time. No, what I speak of is something new. Something very, very exciting. You see, I have just finished reading the manuscript and I can assure you it is certain to be a great success. Her Grace will be taking up the mantle of that most beloved authoress, Lady Claridge, and publishing a brand-new Clovercote novel.”
There were gasps from the crowd and murmurs of approval.
“This talented authoress is more than capable of writing in two genres. She moves hearts with her dragons . . . and her dukes.”
“Thank you, Mr. Norwood.” Ana had delivered the manuscript to him only last week. My, how fast he must have flown through her pages.
She opened the floor to questions and was asked most of the usual things: how did she come up with her ideas, what was her writing process, could she give any advice to aspiring writers.
And then the Faery Queen raised her hand.
“Yes?”
“Did His Grace inspire the character of Qavox the Dragon?” she asked with a sly smile.
Ana grinned. “I rather think it was the other way around. The Dread Dragon inspired His Grace.”
Dex caught her gaze from the back of the room and held it tightly.
The look that passed between them spoke of whispered midnight commands. Long, lazy conversations wrapped in each other’s arms on sun-dappled mornings.
The man he was becoming . . . more open, more trusting. The slow unfurling of a deep, enduring love that had the power to transform the darkest night, the strongest curse, into the sunniest of hopeful mornings.
I love you. I’m yours, he mouthed, for only her eyes to see.
And the words filled her heart to overflowing.
And all was right with the world.