Epilogue
“It is unfortunate, Mistress,” Piffle whispered in my ear, “that the Lady Seraphine was not here for last year’s color.”
I stole a glance in her direction. She sat next to Korven, draped in a deep pine green—the year’s color of the Sprouting Festival.
Both of them listened to my husband addressing his people at the podium in the center of Heartstone Wood.
Seraphine held their baby, grinning broadly as Arthur spoke with more kindness and wisdom than any king his people had ever known.
Korven frowned, attempting to keep their wild little Avici in his lap.
“I agree with you, Piff. Though, Seraphine’s beauty has no limitations.”
He hummed, nodding. “Do you think she might accept a gown from me?”
I held back a laugh. “Have you already made it?”
“You know me well, Mistress,” he giggled and I joined him, pressing my lips together tightly when Killian frowned my way.
“What are you whispering about?” Morella leaned in to ask, ignoring the elbow jab from her husband.
“Beautiful gowns,” I said under my breath, bringing my attention back to Arthur.
“And so, it is with humility and great honor that I welcome you all to the first day of the Sprouting Festival, not as your king, but as a man ready to lead his people and deliver prosperity throughout all of Heartstone Wood.”
Cheers erupted from the stands with almost everyone bolting from their seats, clapping and tossing petals into the air.
Seraphine nudged my son and he rose with reluctance, tossing his firstborn, Avici, up onto his shoulders and holding her legs in place—no doubt so he wouldn’t need to partake in the applause.
Two months after the curse breaking, Arthur had finally been able to control the Beast well enough to return to the surface without the monster taking over—just in time for the start of the Sprouting Festival and the first family gathering of the royal Ravenfae.
As the crowd dispersed to begin the festivities, I met Arthur on the stage, kissing him soundly.
“Give me the truth, wife. How was my speech?”
“Kingly. Endearing.” I pulled him close, whispering in his ear, “Will you wear the crown tonight when you fuck me, husband?”
His breathy laugh tickled my skin. “Tonight? Why the wait? I imagine there must be a—”
“King Arthur,” Killian interrupted.
I moved aside to greet him, threading my fingers through Arthur’s.
Killian held out his hand, king to king. “Good speech.”
“Arthur!” Morella burst, squeezing in front of Killian and wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed his cheek. “You were brilliant! Did you see the crowd? They were hanging on your every word!”
My husband laughed. “Thank you, Morella, for the praise and for attending. Your mother has not paused a moment in planning your stay in Heartstone for weeks now.”
Morella’s face lit with joy. “Will you join us for the festivities, then? I hear it is tradition to play word games with the names of the flowers that grow here, is that true?” She didn’t let him answer as he opened his mouth to speak. “I would love to try my hand at it! I think I’d do well!”
Killian grabbed her waist, her belly rounded with child. “You would crush any competition, Moh Dhóches.”
They stared at each other in heated silence and my eyes darted back and forth between them with a brow raised.
Arthur kissed my cheek and hid a chuckle. “Well, yes, I’d be happy to join you just as soon as I borrow your mother for a few—”
“Arthur!” It was Seraphine’s turn, shoving her way through the King and Queen of the Citrine Cliffs. She threw her arms around him and he caught her there, squeezing her tightly.
“Seraphine,” he murmured. “It is wonderful to see you again. Long ago, I feared I never would get to see the beautiful woman I’d befriended so easily.”
“And lied to,” Korven muttered, following his wife.
Seraphine gripped Arthur’s shoulders, shaking him slightly.
“We must catch up. I want to know everything. Every single thing since that night in the tower. And you’d better not leave out the more gruesome details, nor the sordid ones.
” She glanced at me. “Is it true you pulled Reshina down underground by the ankle?”
“Goddess damn me,” Korven sighed, transferring both of his children into Killian and Morella’s arms. “Let me say my piece before I can leave you two to it.”
He stood before Arthur, weighing him, his jaw flexing and his wings rustling behind him—something they’d always done of their own accord. With a deep inhale and release, he looked at me with a brow raised as if to say, This, mother? This is who you love?
I cocked my head, returning his look with a clear nod.
Finally, he held a hand out between them. “You broke my mother’s curse.”
Arthur took his hand, shaking it firmly. “I did.”
“You love her?”
“I do.”
Korven’s mouth twisted. “I’m not calling you father.”
A bellow of laughter, strong, deep, and beautiful lifted from my husband’s chest. “Arthur’s fine, Korven.” He slapped his shoulder heartily. “Arthur will do.”
Six months was nothing. Six months was the blink of an eye when our days were spent in the quiet Underrealm reading and sharing books, sharing food and drink, sharing pleasure.
I was sure to imply the importance that Arthur allow the Beast to hunt on the surface for a few hours everyday, though I explained I could not give him the details of why.
When our six months were over and we were released for another half year, we traveled to the Citrine Cliffs to meet the little princeling the king and queen had named Córmac, meaning son of the raven.
Chubby and adored by his parents, we spent our month visiting, stealing him away as often as we could.
Arthur and I cooed over our grandchildren, soaking in our time with three little royal Ravenfae.
We spent the rest of the months away from the Underrealm in the Brackish Wood. There, I addressed the concerns of my people, spending time healing them in their homes, and meeting the next generation of our faekind.
Arthur eased into his role as the husband of a Goddess beautifully—introducing himself, and listening to the stories kept hidden within the Brackish Wood.
Within the blink of an eye, our six months were over and we made our way back to the Underrealm.
Piffle returned as well, having traveled all over Revelry, collecting trinkets and fabrics alike.
A month in from our return, Arthur woke me with a kiss. “Something has arrived and I do not possess the patience for you to wake on your own to see it.”
“It had better be your tongue on my skin or your cock in my hand, King of Heartstone,” I groaned, turning away from him, seeking cool sheets.
His laugh tickled my neck. “Better than that.”
“No such thing,” I murmured into my pillow.
“Alright, an additional gift I’ll give to you this morning.”
I finally turned towards him. “What could be worth waking me early, then?”
He held a book bound in emerald green cloth. “I received this from Piffle last night and have spent all morning adding notes in the margins.”
I sat up, taking the book into my hands. The corners were reinforced with gold filigree brackets and the end pages detailed black thorns across a sketch of my crown. I flipped to the title page. “The Goddess and the Beast.” I traced the letters of the raised ink, too filled with emotion to speak.
“I had the story we penned bound in Riche by the finest artisans. Everything’s there. Down to each salacious detail. I’ve already begun my notes and left you plenty of room to—”
“I adore you, husband.” I cupped his cheek with the flood of tears brimming in my eyes. “I love you, and have loved you, and I swear on the Veil I will love you.”
He took my hand, bringing my palm to his lips. “Turn to chapter thirty-eight.”
I did and there in the margins he’d written, “Care for a repeat?”
I skimmed the chapter detailing the night I’d poisoned him with my last attempt to escape the curse and the body worshiping he’d done after.
I snapped the book shut, my blood heating, desire tugging at my lower belly. “You read my mind.”
His hands gripped my hips, pulling me on top of his lap. “I know it well.” He gripped the back of my head, kissing me hard, loving me wildly, like a feral Beast from beyond the Veil.