Epilogue
The low, resonant hum of earth-shaping magic vibrated through Aeryn’s slippers as she entered the newly expanded outer chamber; dust drifted through crystal-light where two Stonecallers guided the stone outward with practiced movements.
The wall rippled like softened wax, flowing in perfect arcs before settling with a deep thrum.
Khaeric stood with arms crossed, watching the expansion.
Aeryn leaned against the doorframe, feeling her son press low. “Is it finished?” For weeks, the Stonecallers had been expanding their quarters—a necessity with their son’s impending arrival. The orcs’ stone-shaping never ceased to amaze her.
“Nearly,” answered Verin, one of the Stonecallers, an older orc with silver-streaked braids.
He ran his palm over a section where the stone had developed a hairline crack.
“Just need to strengthen this seam.” The orc pressed both hands against the wall.
Low vibration hummed through the chamber as the crack sealed itself, rock flowing like liquid before hardening.
The second Stonecaller stepped back, brushing off his leather apron. “That completes the outer chamber. The inner room for the babe is finished as well.” He gestured toward an arched doorway that hadn’t existed two days ago. “Would ye like to see it now, my lady?”
Aeryn nodded. She’d seen the work in progress, but now the nursery was complete. Khaeric moved to her side. “Let’s see what they’ve created for our son.”
What had once been a rough storage alcove now gleamed like polished glass.
The ceiling arched upward in a gentle dome, inlaid with tiny glowing crystals like stars.
In the center stood a cradle—not the ornate silver bassinet her mother would have insisted upon, but sturdy construction of dark wood and carved granite, its edges gracefully curved.
The star-crystals pulsed with gentle light, casting soft illumination that reminded her of moonlight filtering through forest branches. She moved toward the cradle. “It’s perfect,” she whispered, imagining their son sleeping within its protective embrace.
“We’ve added protective runes,” Verin explained, pointing to subtle carvings along the cradle’s edge. “Old magic. They’ll help the babe sleep soundly.”
Aeryn’s fingertips found the ancient marks. The craftsmanship was exquisite.
“What do ye think?” Khaeric asked softly, amber eyes searching her face. “Does it please ye?”
“It’s more beautiful than I could have imagined,” she answered.
This room represented everything she’d never imagined for herself.
A year ago, she had been a reluctant bride, sent to marry a “monster” in a political arrangement.
Now she stood in a mountain fortress that had become home, beside a husband whose touch she craved, preparing for a child who already wielded magic.
All her life, she’d been taught that home meant ornate hallways and gilded ceilings, servants attending her every need, proper bloodlines surrounding her at formal dinners.
Yet she had never belonged there. Here, in this mountain stronghold once feared as savage, she had discovered what home truly meant—acceptance.
She moved around the room, one hand cradling her belly where her son stretched against her ribs. The star-crystals pulsed in harmony with her steps, recognizing her presence. Had they been designed to do that, or was it her son’s magic already reaching out to the mountain around him?
The Stonecallers exchanged satisfied glances before bowing their heads. “We’ll leave ye to enjoy it,” Verin said, backing toward the doorway before disappearing down the corridor.
Staring up at the star-crystals, Aeryn recalled the times she would sneak out to read under the stars.
Those nights of forbidden freedom had been her only solace in the suffocating confines of her father’s court.
The memory of cool grass beneath her, pages illuminated by moonlight, and the vast openness of night sky had been her sanctuary.
Now, ironically, deep within a mountain where no real stars could reach, she found herself surrounded by their likeness—and with more freedom than she’d ever known.
“I used to sneak out of the palace at night. I’d find a secluded spot in the royal gardens where the guards rarely patrolled, and I’d read for hours under the stars,” Aeryn said, taking his hand.
A knowing grin spread across Khaeric’s face, amber eyes gleaming with amusement. “I ken.”
“You know? How could you possibly—”
“After the treaty terms were agreed to,” he said, his deep voice rumbling with suppressed laughter, “I watched ye escape from yer window at the country estate. Ye climbed down the ivy like ye’d done it a hundred times before, evaded the guards like a shadow, and disappeared into the woods. ” His expression softened.
“You were watching me?” Her mind raced back to that night—the prickling sensation she’d felt in the woods, the certainty that someone had been there. “That was you?”
“Aye.” Khaeric’s lips quirked upward. “I was curious about my future bride.”
“You followed me? That night at the estate?” Her face warmed. “Did you... did you see where I went?”
“To the old stone shelter in the clearing,” he confirmed, his voice softening as he took in her startled expression. “I watched ye read by lamplight, lost in yer book. Ye looked... peaceful. Until I stepped on that cursed pebble.”
Sudden memory flashed through her mind—the sharp crack that had sent her racing, the certain knowledge that someone watched from the darkness.
“That was you?!” She swatted his arm playfully.
“You startled me half to death!” She’d spent days afterward glancing over her shoulder, wondering who had found her sanctuary.
To think it had been Khaeric all along—the fearsome orc warlord she’d been so terrified to meet.
“I frightened ye,” he said, his voice softening. “I didnae mean to.”
Aeryn shook her head, still processing this revelation.
All this time, she had imagined their first meeting had been at their wedding.
Instead, he had seen her in her most private moment, doing the one thing that had made her feel truly herself.
“What did you think of me?” she asked. “When you saw me that night?”
“I thought ye were brave,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, his large hand moving to cup her cheek. “When I saw ye reading, so absorbed in yer book that the world disappeared around ye. I knew ye were naught like what yer father claimed.”
“What did he claim?”
“That ye were willful. That ye were too headstrong for court, too unmanageable for politics.”
Aeryn laughed, a short, surprised sound that echoed in the newly-formed chamber. “Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong.” She moved toward the cradle, running her fingers along its smooth edge. Silence lingered between them.
“Yer family will arrive in a few days,” Khaeric mused. “Are ye looking forward to seeing them?”
“Yes,” Aeryn’s smile widened. “Thank you for letting them come to the birth and allowing the elven midwives.”
“It matters that yer customs are honored too.”
Khaeric embraced the idea with unexpected enthusiasm, working alongside the elders to find ways to blend their traditions without diminishing either.
“Mother seemed pleased with the arrangements,” she said, moving to sit on the stone bench covered in furs.
“Though I think she was surprised you agreed to incorporate elven traditions. My mother seems... different here. More herself, somehow. Less the queen and more the woman.”
“Perhaps the mountain speaks to her as well,” he suggested. “It has that effect on some.”
“And Caeryth?”
“She seemed... drawn to the library,” Khaeric said with a subtle lift of his brow. “Mael mentioned she was a frequent visitor, though that may have been yer mother’s doin’.”
“I did notice.” Aeryn smiled, remembering her sister’s flustered expression in the library. “She seems less hostile to him than to other orcs.”
“Aye. Apparently she’d developed a sudden interest in orcish history.” Khaeric’s mouth twitched with amusement. “Though Mael said they spend most of their time arguing.”
“That sounds like Caeryth,” Aeryn laughed. “She’s never been able to resist a good debate.” She thought of her sister’s flushed cheeks in the library, the way she’d stammered when Mael teased her. Perhaps there was more to Caeryth’s sudden scholarly interests than intellectual curiosity.
“The scholar has a way of challengin’ her that seemed to... intrigue her,” Khaeric said, shrugging.
Aeryn leaned back against the cool stone wall, stretching her legs out. “Is that what you call it? Intriguing?”
A smile crossed Khaeric’s face, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I would call it something else, but I dinnae wish to speculate on yer sister’s heart.”
Memory tugged at the edge of Aeryn’s mind. “Khaeric,” she said, “the book that Mael has been searching for, the one on the history of the aftermath of the War of Division—do you think Caeryth might have taken it when she left with Mother?”
Khaeric’s expression shifted, eyes narrowing as he considered her question. “It would explain why Mael cannae find it. He’s torn apart half the library lookin’ for it. Yer mother said they had no missin’ books.” He ran a hand over his braided hair.
Aeryn frowned, unconvinced. “Mother might not know.” It wouldn’t surprise her if Caeryth took the book as a way to have an excuse to return to the mountain and see Mael again.
Her sister had always been clever about creating situations that served her purposes while maintaining plausible deniability.
“I think,” she said, “that Caeryth might have the book, whether Mother knows it or not.”
Khaeric’s brow furrowed. “What makes ye think so?”
“She’s always had a habit of... borrowing things that caught her interest.” Aeryn shifted on the bench, wincing as her son kicked against her ribs.
“Ye think she stole an important historical text?”
“No.” Aeryn shook her head. “I doubt Caeryth understood its significance. She likely saw it as just another dusty tome that Mael seemed interested in.” She smiled ruefully.
“My sister has always collected things that capture other people’s attention, especially when those people capture hers.
She probably thought it was just some old book of stories or legends. ”
Khaeric raised an eyebrow, his mouth quirking into a half-smile. “There’s just one problem wi’ yer theory. The majority of the books in the Great Library are written in Orkish. And Caeryth cannae read Orkish.”
Aeryn blinked, her theory deflating. “Oh.” She hadn’t considered that simple fact. The image of her sister poring over incomprehensible texts suddenly seemed absurd. “You’re right. Caeryth wouldn’t take something she couldn’t understand. She prefers her acquisitions to have immediate value to her.”
His eyes drifted to where her hand rested on her belly as he nodded. “Mael will find it eventually. He’s naught if no’ persistent.” He reached out, his large hand hovering questioningly above her abdomen. “May I?”
Aeryn smiled and guided his hand to the spot where their son was kicking.
The moment his palm made contact, their son delivered a firm kick, greeting his father.
Khaeric’s eyes widened, his lips parting in rare, unguarded wonder.
“He always becomes more active when he hears your voice,” she said softly, watching emotions play across her husband’s face.
“He’s strong,” Khaeric murmured, his fingers splaying gently across the curve of her belly. “Like his mother.” Aeryn covered his hand with hers, anchoring it there as their son shifted again, slower this time, settling.