Chapter 45
Joy
"I've got you," Enzo whispered.
I looked up into his eyes, my own swimming with tears. "I know."
He held me close as the gathered mourners began to shift, the formal ceremony drawing to an end. Keir's final words echoed across the grounds: "It is done. Our brother has passed on."
Through my tears, I saw Morden standing nearby, waiting patiently. I untangled myself from Enzo.
Morden took my hands. “Someday, I’d like to tell you more about Nyx. Would you like to meet the harpies?”
I glanced toward where the harpies stood, their massive forms both beautiful and terrifying. My stomach fluttered with nerves, but they'd loved Nyx—protected him, mourned him.
Enzo put his hand on my arm. “They won’t harm her.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.
“No, of course not. They will sense who she is,” he said. “I think they will protect her like they did me and Nyx.”
Something warm unfurled in my chest. Protected. Like family. I'd lost so much—my parents, now Nyx—but maybe I was gaining something too. A father. Chosen sisters in the form of deadly harpies. The thought was both strange and comforting.
The harpies stood vigil near where the altar had been, radiating sorrow. Morden nodded toward them. "Come."
My feet felt heavy as I moved forward. Up close, they were even more imposing—easily twice my height, their massive eagle bodies rippling with muscle beneath glossy black feathers. But it was their faces that held me—beautiful and mournful, tears streaking down their human cheeks.
What if they blamed me? Nyx had died saving Enzo, saving me. What if they saw me as the reason their friend, their family, was gone? My hands trembled at my sides.
But Morden's steady presence beside me gave me courage. I forced myself to keep walking.
I followed him over, my heart pounding as the powerful creatures turned their attention to us. They studied me with intelligent eyes—ancient and knowing—and then leaned in closer.
I froze, barely breathing. Their massive forms towered over me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from their bodies, smell the wild scent of feathers and wind. One of them lowered her head, her breath warm against my hair as she sniffed.
My hands trembled at my sides. I wanted to reach out, to show I meant no harm, but I didn't dare move. This was it—either I'd be accepted or torn apart. Every muscle in my body locked tight as I held perfectly still.
Something clicked. The sadness in their expressions shifted to surprise, then something warmer—recognition.
They rushed forward eagerly, and before I could step back, one had wrapped her enormous wing around me, pulling me tight against her feathered body. The embrace was surprisingly gentle.
I should have been terrified—trapped against a creature that could kill me in seconds. But instead, warmth spread through my chest. Safe. Protected. Like being wrapped in my mother's arms when I was small. The fear melted away, replaced by something I hadn't expected—belonging.
"Get away from her," Enzo commanded, his voice dangerous.
"Stand down,” Morden said. “They're not threatening her—they're accepting her. They recognize Nyx's blood in her veins. She's his sister, which makes her theirs to protect now."
I felt the harpy's heartbeat against my side, strong and steady. The other one pressed close, completing the embrace. They were mourning with me, welcoming me.
"They'd like you to fly with them, if you're willing. Nyx rode them all the time. He'd want you to know what that felt like." Morden’s voice was thick with emotion.
"Only if I can go with her," Enzo said, eyeing the harpy warily.
Morden wiped a tear from his eye. "Be my guest."
The harpy turned, lowering slightly as if inviting me onto her broad back.
I reached out tentatively, my fingers sinking into surprisingly silky feathers—not the rough, scratchy texture I'd expected, but something closer to down.
Beneath the plumage, I could feel the solid architecture of muscle and bone, radiating heat.
I gripped a handful of feathers near her shoulders and pulled myself up, settling into the natural dip between her wings.
The feathers compressed under my weight, molding around me like a living saddle.
Enzo settled behind me, his arms wrapping securely around my waist, anchoring me. I could feel the harpy's breathing—deep, steady—her body rising and falling beneath us.
Then her muscles bunched tight as a spring. I felt the exact moment she prepared to launch—every fiber tensing. She leaped, and suddenly we were airborne, her wings beating with powerful, rhythmic grace.
My stomach dropped as we soared upward, the ground falling away beneath us.
Panic flared hot in my chest. Too high, too fast—we were going to fall. My fingers dug into the harpy's feathers, and Enzo's arms tightened around me. But the massive wings beat steadily, powerfully, and slowly my fear began to ebb. We weren't falling. We were flying.
Wind whipped through my hair as we flew over the Court of Thorns, over the blooming gardens and magnolia trees that had witnessed my brother's farewell. The beauty of it stole my breath—the world spread out beneath us like a painting, alive and glittering.
From up here, the world looked different—smaller, more beautiful. I understood why Nyx had loved this. The freedom. The perspective. For a few precious moments, there was no war, no loss, no pain. Just flight.
The harpy circled once more before descending, landing with surprising gentleness near where we'd started. I slid off, legs shaky, and Enzo dismounted behind me. The harpies bowed their heads to us before spreading their wings and taking flight again, disappearing into the clouds.
"Thank you," I whispered to the sky.
Later that night, back at the manor, I collapsed onto Enzo's bed. Every emotion from the day—the funeral, the magic, the flight, the grief—crashed over me at once.
Enzo sat beside me and pulled me into his lap, his strong arms encircling me.
"I've been thinking," he said quietly.
"About what?"
"About getting you out of here. Away from New Orleans, away from the supernatural wars and politics." His hand stroked through my hair with gentle care. "I want to take you to Italy."
I lifted my head to look at him. "Italy?"
"My homeland. I haven't been back in decades, but... I want to show you where I came from. The villages, the countryside, the Amalfi Coast. I want to give you peace, Joy. Beauty. Time to heal." His voice grew softer, more vulnerable. "Time for just us."
Tears pricked my eyes—not from sadness this time, but from overwhelming love. After losing Nyx, after everything we'd survived and endured, the idea of escaping to Italy with Enzo felt like salvation. A chance to breathe. To simply be together without threats looming over us.
"When can we leave?" I asked.
He smiled, brushing away a tear from my cheek with his thumb. "As soon as you're ready. We'll stay as long as you want."
I pulled him down and kissed him deeply, pouring everything I felt into it: love, gratitude, hope for our future. "I'm ready now."
"Then Italy it is." He held me close, his lips against my temple.
"I'll show you vineyards under moonlight, ancient ruins that have stood for thousands of years, beaches where the water is so blue it doesn't look real.
" His voice dropped to a promise. "I'll give you the world, Joy. Starting with mine."
I nestled against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath my cheek. We'd faced demons and queens, torture and war, loss and betrayal. But we'd survived. Together.
And now, finally, we could start living.
"I love you," I whispered.
"I love you too. Always."
Outside the window, the New Orleans night carried on—supernatural creatures prowling the streets, politics and power plays continuing their endless dance. But in this moment, wrapped in Enzo's arms with Italy waiting for us, none of it mattered.
We had each other. We had hope. We had a future.
That was enough.
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