EPILOGUE
ISI
The Syllavar Court ballroom blazed with light and magic.
I stood near the refreshment table, nodding politely while Lord Erradorn spoke about grain shipments and trade routes.
My emerald gown caught the faelights overhead, silver threads winking like captured stars with every breath I took.
The fitted bodice hugged my ribs while the skirt flowed around my legs, deceptively elegant despite the hidden slits that allowed for full movement.
I adored the pockets that were deep enough to hold small knives each.
Across the room, Trew’s mouth curved as his gaze tracked the line of my skirt. He’d noticed the weapons immediately, his eyes darkening with approval before he’d pulled me close and whispered exactly what he planned to do with me once he peeled the dress off later.
Lord Erradorn was still talking, saying something about tariffs now.
Warm fingers wrapped around my wrist.
“Forgive the interruption, Lord Erradorn.” Trew appeared at my side, already tugging me away from the conversation. “I need to borrow my wife.”
“But Your Majesty, we haven’t finished discussing the—”
“Later.” Pure charm and absolute dismissal filled Trew’s smile. He pulled me toward the dance floor while Lord Erradorn sputtered behind us.
I shot my love a look as the musicians struck up a new melody. “You promised to let me handle diplomacy.”
“I promised to support you handling diplomacy.” He spun me into his arms, one hand settling at the back of my waist while the other captured mine and lifted it. “I never promised not to rescue you from being bored to death by it.”
“That man controls three provinces worth of grain stores.”
“Then you can thank me for saving you from an hour of crop rotation discussion.” His fingertips traced circles on my waist, right over the knife hidden in my right pocket. “Besides, you were planning your escape. I could see it in your eyes.”
Heat flooded through our bond, his satisfaction and joy mixing with mine until I couldn’t tell where my feelings ended and his began. The connection had only grown stronger in the three months since we’d sealed the veil, the double bond thrumming between us like a second heartbeat.
Trew pulled me close as we moved through the steps. This wasn’t the rigid formal dancing I’d learned in Caldrith, but something fluid and intimate, our bodies finding rhythm together the same way they did in training. In bed. And in every moment we chose each other.
Swooning, Pherin said. My minxpip perched on the chandelier overhead beside Gavelle, watching the festivities below. Dance like fools in love.
We are fools in love, I sent back. And so are you two.
Her chirp of agreement made Gavelle nuzzle her wing, and their contentment rippled through the bond to mingle with ours.
Gavelle had completely healed. He’d spent two weeks favoring the wing before Pherin lost patience and chased him around the aerie until he used it properly.
Trew had watched the whole thing with an expression I’d never seen on him before, something between horrified and desperately fond.
The ballroom had been transformed for tonight’s celebration.
White camellias from Trew’s garden cascaded from every available surface, their petals glowing softly with magic he’d woven into them while they grew.
Other flowers I didn’t recognize added splashes of color, blues and purples and deep crimsons that pulsed with gentle light.
And the people. Warriors in formal attire mixed freely with castle staff, merchants, and citizens from the surrounding villages.
We’d insisted on no separation between ranks or status, just shared celebration.
A woman who’d been condemned to die on the Day of Mercy months ago laughed with the guard who’d once stood watch at her cell.
A young man conjured small illusions, making a cluster of children laugh.
This was what we’d fought for. What we’d bled for.
“You’re thinking too hard.” Trew’s breath warmed my ear as he turned us in a circle. “I can feel it through the bond.”
“I’m thinking about how perfect this is.”
“Liar.” His hand flexed on my waist. “You’re cataloguing exits and potential threats.”
I was doing that as well. Old habits never faded, and knowing where the doors were kept me grounded when rooms got too full and celebrations too loud.
“Both things can be true,” I said.
He dipped his forehead to meet mine, his golden eyes holding my gaze while we swayed together. “Let me think the strategic thoughts for once. You just feel.”
I let myself sink into the warmth of his arms and the steady beat of his heart against mine. Magic hummed between us like a song only we could hear.
The music swelled and Trew spun me out, then back against his chest. My laugh came bright and unguarded.
His smile in response held everything. Pride, possession, and a tenderness that still caught me off guard.
When the song ended, he didn’t release me. He held me close while applause rippled through the ballroom and musicians discussed their next piece.
I tugged on Trew’s hand, pulling him toward where Lexie and Derren stood near the far wall. “Let’s go before a lord corners me to discuss livestock.”
Lexie spotted us approaching and her face lit up. She looked stunning in a deep red gown, her dark hair swept up in tight braids that formed an intricate crown on the top of her head. Her skin glowed in the torchlight.
Derren stood beside her, clearly uncomfortable in formal clothing that strained across his shoulders. But his eyes softened every time he looked at Lexie, and his hand remained on the small of her back.
“There they are,” Lexie said, pulling me into a hug. “The king and queen who keep trying to escape their own celebration.”
“We’re not escaping. We’re mingling.”
“You’re hiding from Lord Erradorn.” She grinned. “I saw Trew steal you away. Very subtle on his part.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” Trew’s expression showed complete innocence. “I simply wanted to dance with my wife.”
Derren snorted. “You looked like you were staging a rescue operation.”
“Because I was.”
We fell into easy laughter, the kind that came from shared battles and survived horrors, plus the simple comfort of friendship that had been forged in blood and fire.
“So.” I looked between them, noting the way they stood slightly closer than before, the new ease in how they touched. “Anything you want to tell us?”
Lexie’s grin went incandescent. “Derren proposed yesterday with the most beautiful speech about wanting to build a life together.”
“It wasn’t that beautiful,” Derren said, his face flushing. “I mostly stood there sweating while trying to remember the words I’d practiced.”
“You told me I was your home.” Lexie rose on her toes to kiss his jaw. “Your safe harbor. The person you wanted beside you through every storm.”
“That’s…” My throat went tight. “That’s perfect.”
Derren’s blush deepened. “Planning the actual ceremony is much more terrifying than the proposal. Lexie wants a formal event with witnesses and seating arrangements.” He gestured helplessly.
“You fought Skathes without hesitation,” Trew said, clearly amused. “But seating charts undo you?”
“At least I know how to kill a Skathe. Charts make no sense. Why does it matter who sits where?”
“It doesn’t,” Lexie told him. “But watching you try to figure it out is adorable.”
“I’m not adorable. I’m a warrior.”
“You’re both.” She kissed him properly this time, and Derren melted into it.
We stayed with them for a while longer, discussing wedding plans and laughing at Derren’s ongoing confusion about wedding traditions. I was sure half of his distress was made up, but his grin grew wider whenever Lexie burst out in laughter.
Trew guided me to where Kerralyn stood with Nia near a refreshment table.
Kerralyn wore a pale blue gown that complemented her auburn hair, which she’d left down in soft waves.
Nia stood beside her in deep blue that made her dark skin luminous.
They weren’t touching, but they stood close enough that anyone with eyes could see the connection between them.
Their relationship had become public about a month ago.
“Chief Historian.” I greeted Kerralyn with a smile. “How goes the work of preserving truth?”
She rolled her eyes at the formal title but couldn’t hide her pleasure. “Exhausting. Do you know how many mistakes were written into the official records? I’ve been correcting errors for weeks.”
Trew had appointed her to the position two months ago, tasking her with writing the true account of everything that had happened in the past sixteen years.
The veil breach, the Day of Mercy, the resistance that had formed, and even the final battle.
All of it was being documented accurately for future generations.
He’d also given her unrestricted access to previously sealed sections of the library, much to her delight.
Since the head librarian had retired, Kerralyn’s mother had arrived at court and taken over the job, making Kerralyn feel comfortable going to the library at any time day or night.
“I’m up to volume three already.” Kerralyn produced a tiny leather journal from among the folds of her gown.
“The research Velacross left behind is fascinating. Did you know he theorized that bloodlines like yours might exist in other realms too? That was why he traveled so much. He was hoping to find more people like himself. He also speculated that the ability to see and manipulate the weave could be—”
“Later,” Nia said gently, her hand tightening on Kerralyn’s arm. “You promised not to turn every conversation into a history lesson.”
“I promised to try not to.” But Kerralyn tucked the journal away with a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I got excited.”
“The world needs people who care about truth enough to chase it down and record it properly,” I said.
“The first volume is already being copied,” Nia said. “We’ll have versions distributed throughout the realm within the month. People deserve to know what really happened.”