Epilogue
Snow has just started to fall when I push open the doors of Widener Library and emerge into the chilly November air.
I pause at the top of the steps, taking a few moments to admire the scene below.
The winding pathways. The frost collecting on the grass and pavement.
The trees, now bare of all their leaves.
The white bell tower of Memorial Church, reaching toward the clouded sky.
The snowflakes falling gently over it all.
And the elf standing at the bottom of the stairs, smiling up at me like I’m the sun.
I jog down the steps, backpack bouncing off my shoulders.
For a moment, I’m taken back to that first day in the library, when I stormed into Loker Reading Room to confront him.
I remember how it felt to run down these same steps afterward.
I remember how my heart pounded in terror at what I’d just done.
Now, my heart is pounding again, but for a different reason entirely.
I stop when I reach the second-to-last step, so I can stand almost nose to nose with him, even with how tall he is. His cheeks are rosy from the cold, as are the tips of his pointed ears, which poke out from his dark hair.
He’s so beautiful it hurts.
“Hi,” I say breathily, the word emerging in a grey puff of air.
His smile hitches higher. He holds out the paper cup in his hand—a steaming oat milk latte, like always. “Hi.”
I take the drink from him, but before I can bring it up to my mouth to take a sip, he grabs my wrist and pulls me close. My heart flutters as he lowers his mouth to mine and presses our lips together in a soft, snow-dusted kiss.
“I missed you,” he murmurs when he pulls away, batting his nose once against mine before straightening all the way back up.
I roll my eyes. “I left your dorm room less than three hours ago.”
“Exactly.” He winks and holds out an elbow. “Shall we?”
I slip my arm into his and descend the last two steps. Then we turn and start across the Yard, back toward Quincy House.
This is our routine. Every morning, on days when I don’t have early class, I slip out of his bed in Dunster, grab a quick breakfast, and head to the library for a few hours of studying.
When I’m done, he picks me up—always bearing my favorite drink, even if I’ve already had more than enough caffeine—and we head to the dining hall for lunch with Cara and Berendir.
“Did you hear from L?th?” I ask as we pass a group of human students on their way to class. A few of them do a double take when they see Daerios and I walking together, but not nearly as many as they used to. “He was supposed to get back this morning, right?”
Daerios nods. “He called me earlier. Things are going well in árrion. They’ve cleared out everything the Shadow Elves left behind, and now it’s just a question of restocking the palace.
New furnishings, new tapestries, all of that boring stuff.
” He snorts. “Apparently, Saechon threw a fit over how the librarians reshelved the books. The Shadow Elves destroyed a huge chunk of our library, and he’s taking the preservation of what’s left very seriously.
The way L?th described it, you’d think he was in charge of a room full of uranium, not leather-bound collections of paper. ”
I laugh. “Sounds about right.”
“He said he ran into Brannion, too, who’s overseeing the Return Migration with Berendir’s father. Things are moving more slowly there, but that’s to be expected. Most elves couldn’t pack up and abandon their lives here overnight.”
“Of course. But does it still seem like most will go?”
“Most.” He glances sideways at me. “But not all.”
My stomach twists, the way it always does when I consider the idea of him returning to Elaerion. Even though it is his home. The place he grew up. The realm to which most of his family is now returning. “And you’re sure you don’t want to—”
“My place is wherever you are,” he says before I can even ask the question. We’ve had this conversation many times before.”
“As is mine. And I know we agreed to stay here so I could finish my studies, but—”
“It’s not just your studies. It’s your friends, your family, your whole life. I mean, you only just got your brother back. I wouldn’t dream of whisking you off to a different realm right now.”
Daerios is right, of course. After working for almost half my life to rescue my brother, I’m not about to go running off to a place where I couldn’t call or FaceTime him whenever I wanted.
Mom and Michael spent a week in Boston while I recovered, most of which they spent at my bedside.
We talked. We watched TV. I pulled out my phone and explained to Michael what TikTok is.
My brother will have a long road back to normalcy; there’s a permanently haunted look in his eyes, and he jumps at the slightest sudden noise.
But by the end of that week together, some color had started to come back into his cheeks, and I’d even seen him smile a few times.
When they hugged me goodbye to fly back to Minnesota, where my mother had already booked his first session with a trauma therapist, I felt hopeful.
I feel hopeful about my mom and Daerios too.
When I first woke up in that hospital bed, she could barely look at him.
Even after I explained everything that had happened, she still didn’t look convinced, but I wasn’t surprised; when you harbor a grudge for almost a decade, it doesn’t dissipate just because someone tells you it should.
But I saw her watching him. She watched the way he never strayed far from my side, leaping to attention when I needed the slightest thing.
She watched as he stepped protectively in front of Michael if anyone got too close to him.
She watched it all, and slowly, the tension ebbed from her shoulders. Just a little.
So, I have hope.
“But what about your family?” I press.
“Quinn.” Daerios stops walking, grabbing both my hands so I’ll come to a halt, too. “I couldn’t care less about not being near my family. My father is an ass—”
“Damn right,” I mutter. Every time I even think about King Varrith—the way he held a knife to his own son’s throat, the way he would have killed that same son just because he tried to save the woman he loved—I’m filled with a rage unlike any I’ve ever known.
It’s enough to make me want to overthrow his reign entirely.
As if sensing the direction of my thoughts, Daerios smirks, eyes dancing with humor. He pokes me lightly on the nose. “One realm-changing milestone at a time, love.”
I roll my eyes.
“Like I said, my father is an ass, and while I’ll always love my brothers, I don’t need to be near them all the time.
You are my family now, Quinn. You’re the only family I’ve ever wanted.
And if we ever decide—together—that we want to live on Elaerion for a time, we can.
It’s not going anywhere.” His eyes crinkle at the edges. “Thanks to you.”
He kisses me lightly on the forehead, and then we turn and keep walking.
Just as we reach the gate that leads out of the yard and onto Mass Ave.
, a group of both male and female Wood Elves dressed in brown tunics and leathers walks in.
The minute they spot Daerios and me, they drop to their knees, bowing their heads.
“Palasolaeva,” the elf closest to us murmurs as I pass by.
“Palasolaeva,” says the second.
“Palasolaeva.”
“Palasolaeva.”
I will never get used to this. To the way every elf we meet falls to the ground as soon as they see me. To the way they whisper the word Lightbearer like it’s something sacrosanct. The first time it happened, I nearly died of embarrassment.
Daerios nudges me and winks. I roll my eyes.
“Naválaev,” I say quietly to the elves, before hurrying out and across Mass Ave. as quickly as possible.
As soon as we’re out of hearing distance, Daerios grabs my hand, grinning as he tugs me down Plympton. “I love when that happens.”
I groan. “I know you do. It makes me want to hide myself in a broom closet and never come back out.”
“How could I not love it? The whole world is finally seeing my mate for what she is.” He pulls me closer, and my heart dips in my chest. “Something to be worshipped.”
“I can think of a few ways I’d like to be worshipped by you.”
Heat flares in his eyes. “Quinn…” he growls, pulling us to a stop and leaning down until we’re nose to nose. “Be careful what you say, or we won’t make it to lunch.”
Butterflies flap madly about in my stomach. “Fine with me.”
He presses his lips to mine in a hot, bruising kiss. I push up onto my toes, wrapping my arms around his neck.
I’ll never get sick of doing this.
With great effort, Daerios pulls back, shaking his head. “Later,” he says, giving me a stern look. “You know we don’t skip any meals.”
My chest fills with an entirely different sort of warmth.
He’s right. We never do.
He makes sure of it.
I smile. “I know.”
He nods with approval, giving me one last kiss before we start walking again. Down the road to see our best friends.
I may not know much beyond that. I may not know where we’ll be in a year, or two, or even two thousand, if Daerios is right and our life bond means that I’ll live as long as he does.
Maybe the Shadow Elves will find another way to break out of their prison.
Maybe King Varrith will issue a summons to Elaerion that neither of us can ignore.
I don’t know. For now, all I know is that I’m walking hand in hand with the elf I love, and for now, that’s enough.