Epilogue
Surveying my ruined castle is akin to running a sword through my own belly.
But my father’s slow applause is the true killing blow.
“Well done, my son.”
Clap. Clap. Clap.
“You wanted to prove yourself, and you have.” He tucks his hands behind his back, a gesture I unconsciously imitate. I despise the thought of being anything like him.
But there can be no doubt now. I am every inch my loathsome father’s progeny.
“Proven yourself a gods-damned fool!”
My father’s shout fades into a coughing fit.
“You had to have the most beautiful bride. Not just any gorgeous girl on offer, and there were plenty of them available. No, you had to have the legend. And for that, you have destroyed my castle.”
The last three words are delivered in a furious roar, inches from my ear. I can’t help but wince.
“I can fix it.”
“No, Alistair, you can’t,” he says wearily, kicking aside a piece of broken wood. “But you will pay for it by marrying the wealthiest woman you can find, even if she is an Isanthian princess. I stand by my edict. You are not fit to lead a country when you cannot even lead your bride down a gods-damned aisle. I will not step aside for you. Abide with the knowledge that you will spend the years between now and the day I die repairing the damage you have wrought.”
“What if I bring them back?”
“What if you do?”
“We’ll have her monsters. Briar can control them now…” I trail off. I used her preferred name. Why any woman would choose an ugly name over a beautiful one baffles me. Rose matched her face…but I must admit Briar matches her personality. Prickly as all hell.
Clearly her judgment is hopelessly flawed if she chose Kill over me. I wish them joy of one another.
For as long as it lasts.
I will get Briar back. I will tame her and her monsters, and I will lead the greatest army that ever existed to victory over our enemies.
And I will strangle Killian with my own bare hands for the way he’s humiliated me.
This time, when I march on the enchanted castle, it is with an army.
Yet despite a hundred soldiers hacking at the wall of vines, I can’t get past them. They grow back the instant my men cut through them, so fast their thorns impale one man through the thigh. I wonder if he, too, will turn black and rot from the inside the way Killian did.
I don’t miss him. I refuse to pine for the company of a supposed friend who stole my bride. Who went behind my back.
Fucked her in my own castle, the little whore. She could have been a queen. Instead, she is nothing.
I knew she didn’t want me. I never expect any woman to desire me for myself, for I have nothing to offer. But how dareshe refuse my title? She is a lost princess. We belong together, whether we like it or not. That’s not how our story was supposed to end.
After struggling for an hour, we find that the white stone pathway winding up the mountain is barred by a gate made of briars. Two red roses in full bloom sit in the center. It does not open.
“Briar Rose!” I shout. I don’t care if it’s undignified. I’ll burn this cursed thicket down if she doesn’t let us in. I will not be denied a second time.
I order the men to set their torches. Smoke billows up, acrid and choking, yet the vines do little more than smolder and scorch before growing back stronger than ever.
Enraged, I start hacking at the gate itself with my saber. It’s sharp but more ceremonial than useful, and dulls quickly. My arm aches from striking blow after blow long after the edge is blunted, but such is my rage that I can’t seem to stop.
Did Killian’s arm ache this way when we came up here together?
I shove the thought aside and back away. Sweat pours down the small of my back and under my arms. I’m filthy, disgusting, and all out of patience. I slit my eyes to peer between the thorns while keeping enough distance to avoid being stabbed in the eyeball. I don’t doubt the living magical barrier would love to slap me in the face with its thorns after the abuse we’ve heaped upon it all day.
At first, they’re too small to make out details.
But the figures grow larger with proximity; harpies swoop overhead. My men stand their ground for all of five seconds before dashing off in search of safety.
Cowards.
I stand firm, hands clasped at the small of my back before I remember that I’m not doing that anymore. I fold them over my chest instead.
The sight of Briar Rose scrapes my stomach hollow, but it’s Killian I can barely stand to look at. She is dressed in a plain gown that shimmers faintly in the sunlight. Her loose golden hair blows gently in the breeze, and a thin gold band adorns her left ring finger. She pushes open the gate just far enough to step out, and my jaw hardens at the sight of her rounded belly.
Pregnant, already.
Her blue eyes are as hard as topaz. “What do you want, Alistair?”
“I have come to reclaim my castle.”
Killian chuckles. I resist the urge to throttle him, choosing to ignore him instead.
He looks…good. Better than ever.
The simple black shirt he’s wearing hangs open at the throat, and at first glance, the red splotch inside looks like blood. But the rolled-up sleeves reveal a vine twining up his arm, with a rose blossoming on one side.
“I see she’s marked you as her own.”
“Yes. I’m hers, Alistair, and Briar is mine.”
I hate his fucking pity. I hope he chokes on it.
“After our abortive wedding ceremony, I have decided to rescind the title of duke and your ownership of the castle. We are here to dismantle it.”
Briar tips her head to one side, and by the gods if the sight of her doesn’t suck the air out of my lungs the same way it did the first time I saw her. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Your monsters destroyed my castle. We need materials to rebuild.”
“Pity.” She taps her lower lip with one forefinger. “If only there was some way I could help.”
She heaves a sigh and shrugs. “Unfortunately, this is our castle now. We won’t be relinquishing it.”
Blood pounds in my temples. Killian’s smirk invites my fist to draw back but the last thing I will ever do is let that cuckolding prick see that he’s gotten under my skin.
“Then we shall take it by force.”
Killian tucks his arm around Briar’s waist with a fond smile. Gods damn everything, he looks so happy I can’t stand it.
“You and what army, Alistair?”
“It’s Prince Alistair to you.”
“We hereby secede from Belterre,” Briar says. “We’re queen and king of the beasts, now, and this castle is no longer yours to command.”
King.
Queen.
They want to outrank me?
I won’t stand for it.
“Prepare to be conquered, old friend.” I don’t spare a single look for the betraying witch who brought me this low.
“Sure. We’ll wait.”
Along with every other indignity foisted upon me, it becomes clear that I have no choice but to back down. My men have fled. My reputation is in tatters. I have nothing left to lose.
And then comes the dragon. Its cold shadow falls over me. I swallow, hard.
“We wish you no ill will, Alistair. All we want is to be left alone. We will ensure the fae beasts remain here with us. Belterre can prosper in peace as it did before the Isanthians dumped me here.”
Briar says this with a little smirk that makes me want to throttle and kiss her at once. I cannot believe I still desire this woman.
But gods, look at her. Glowing with happiness and good health. Ripe with Killian’s brat. I’m choking on my envy.
“Are you still searching for a wife?” he asks, seeing the direction of my gaze.
“Yes,” I snap curtly.
“I wish for you someone humble,” Briar says with narrowed eyes. “A woman who can show you what matters. A woman who will fight for you, not bow to you.”
What in the hell does she mean by that?
I never have a chance to ask, for the gate closes behind them and the dragon takes wing, leaving me alone with my righteous fury.