Epilogue
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The end.
Castor
“So is this party actually for the children?” I ask, looking at both new faces and people I’ve known for ages but have rarely ever seen.
I am holding my Ash again, because Alexios and Zahra both came, and they both trust me even without my blindfold.
Though I’m almost positive that only Andromeda goes to this charming little school drenched in sandwoman magic, every single faerie who comes to movie night is also here.
Sipping punch out of a mushroom cup in this magical tavern Kassandra’s crafted to take the place of a mundane cafeteria, Pollux asks, “What makes you say that?”
I glance toward Kassandra where she mingles with the human children and the human children’s poor sad parents, who can’t see past the glamour convincing them that this entire mushroom speakeasy is a pathetic little rectangle cafeteria with linoleum floors and worn-out appliances.
As far as I can tell, there are not many parents or children left.
“Josh, take that out of your mouth this instant,” a woman I suspect to be Josh’s mother snaps. She then sighs and suggests that it’s getting late. Even though it’s still quite early.
“Oh, I wonder,” I muse, grinning when my eyes locate my villain girlies huddled around their new leader, the most villain girlie of them all—my Heather.
Willow grumbles into her own mushroom cup, “I think Castor needs to pick a color and stick to it. He’s encroaching on Zylus’s multi-colored eye territory, and I don’t appreciate it.”
“Castor’s eyes are prettier than Zylus’s, though,” my soulmate informs her, correctly.
Willow’s nose wrinkles. “Blasphemy.”
“Ladies, ladies,” Alana croons, “we can just all love our own soulmates the most. I’m pretty sure that’s the point.” Diplomatically, she says, “It is not a contest.”
Except if it were, I would win.
Beside me, Alexios sneers at the general decor surrounding us. “Why must all the cups be mushrooms? Why couldn’t it be a fig tavern, or a cashew one?”
Because fig and cashew taverns sound stupid. Mushroom taverns, by contrast, sound whimsical. Which reminds me. I probably need to check in with my birb, Whimsy, and tell her all about this marvelous day, sparing no detail of the afternoon.
While I’m pondering whether I should step away for a moment and tell my self-care app how great my mood is and why, Cael lifts his hand and pats Alexios, which earns him a hiss before my bestie then dodges behind me and out of Cael’s reach.
Smirking at Cael’s distress, I stroke Alexios’s hair and hold the moth prince’s eyes.
Ever regal, Cael frowns. “You don’t have to be like that.”
I flash my teeth. “Don’t I? I may no longer be a villain, but I certainly don’t believe many would call me a hero, either.”
Alexios sniffs, leaning into my touch. “But you’re my hero, aren’t you?”
“Oh please.” Cael rolls his eyes.
Pollux snorts half a laugh into a piece of vegetarian something or other. Tofu, maybe. On a cracker. Mm, charming. I wonder if it was even cooked, or if it’s just a slab of raw mush beans.
“Guys, come on,” Ollie tries.
I look at the man and arch a brow. “This is bonding, is it not?”
He deflates. “Really?”
Cael, ever the peacekeeper, wraps an arm around Ollie’s shoulders and sighs. “Probably this is bonding when you are incurably incorrigible.”
Melting out of a dark shadow, Zylus braces his elbow against Cael’s other shoulder and smiles at me before purring in his silky smooth vampire voice, “Aren’t we all?”
Yes, precisely.
Excellent chap, Zylus, my brother in best eyes here.
Blowing out a breath, Zahra trails from the other side of the room where all the non-fae were congregating, drops her human guise in favor of purple skin and stars, and hangs on top of Alexios’s head. “What’d I miss?”
“Castor’s antagonizing Cael, again,” Alexios murmurs. “He calls it bonding, and I think it’s good for them.”
“So, I’ve missed nothing, basically?” she asks.
He affirms.
“Castor?” Heather calls, igniting every last one of my nerves.
I turn to her and let the sight wash over me, cleansing me anew. “Yes, Mine?”
“Are we still planning to get married tonight?” She points. “Willow’s asking. She says most good romance stories end with a wedding, and we can’t begin our happily ever after without it.”
My heart leaps.
“Don’t you want to be happy?” Willow goads.
Heather blushes.
Alana grins. “Heather wants to be happy.”
You know something? Now that I’m really thinking about it, I do believe that human woman was right. It is getting rather late, isn’t it?
Alexios frees a low whistle, so I nudge him off me, mutter, “Brat,” and begin making my way to my feather.
Cael’s voice stops me short. “You’re getting married tonight?”
Cocking a look back at the moth prince, I say, “Yes? I believe so. Why?”
Warmth fills him, overwhelming joy pouring off him in sheets. He leaves the friends he made in my absence to reach me, then he lifts his hand. Fingers cutting through my hair, he reels me into a hug. “Congratulations.”
Gaze wide, I lift my attention from his white robes to his soft features, and then I go very, very still, wondering if this is what he’s always looked like whenever he’s hugged me. It’s…for lack of a less accurate word…loving.
As though I am important.
And he believes it.
When he, of everyone here, has the most right not to.
“We need to reschedule our meeting,” he says, ever the good prince, ever organized, ever business minded. “I was…shall we say…looking forward to it and rather disappointed when you called to cancel.”
Sighing into a smile, I pat his back once and pull away, closing my hands into my sleeves. “I’ll let you know when we come up for air.”
Alexios whistles again, so I offer him my middle finger—more bonding, in case you didn’t know—and twist on my heel to finish making my way to my soulmate.
The love in her eyes heats me through. “Ready?” I ask as our hands latch together, fitting perfectly.
“Ready,” she confirms, then lowers her voice, “Unless you think we really should stop by home first. I’m a little worried about what Frelsi’s getting up to with all her new pixie friends…”
All her new pixie friends being, of course, what happened when Heather renamed each piece of the statue that wound up accidentally broken.
I murmur, “I’m sure Eggbert has everything under control. And if he doesn’t, it’ll probably be fixable.”
Flickers of concern run across our bond. Then she scans me and remembers that she would actually prefer marriage to babysitting right now. “Yeah,” she says, softly, blushing, “you’re probably right.”
Not right enough to lose that probably, but I’ll take it.
I’ll take it, and I’ll take her through trod, after trod, after trod until we’re standing on the very same cliff I took her to before.
There, we talk of nothing, of everything. We share vow, after vow, promising love eternal, love unending. Together, we wait for the sun to crest the sky, and when it does, it battles her wings for brightness. I watch the scene unfold, soaking the warmth in.
It is here—in plain terms, for the first time—that my soulmate tells me she loves me.
And it is here—in plain terms, for the first time—that I believe myself worthy of love.
It’s an odd experience, to be sure. Feeling a subatomic shift inside oneself may always be…
But, as far as I’m concerned, I shall always consider this ability to grow, to change, to become more in the face of anything…what it means to be fae.
And to be fae?
Is perfectly normal.