Epilogue
Every day, I went and spent time with the sprouting sapling, which grew much faster than a normal tree and faster than Anivivi apparently had, according to Dasha.
It might have had to do with the fact I kept pouring magic and wishes into it.
Please let Cedric be okay. Grow. Flourish.
I did everything I could to encourage that damned tree to grow, but not for the elves.
They might be celebrating the gradual return of their magic, and the fact some chick had already gotten pregnant, but me, I waited for a sign. A sign Cedric was still there.
But day after day, nothing. Just a rapidly growing tree that didn’t have anything sarcastic to say.
After two weeks, Misha took us on a road trip.
To Canada. Although, this time, we flew because Misha’s brother turned out to be a whiz when it came to making passports.
Once home, I got a chance to talk to Charlie—who yelled at me for disappearing off the face of the Earth—and I told her everything that had happened.
“You’re witch, too, now?” My best friend couldn’t have been happier.
I got to see what happened when a light elf and a shadow elf met via a mirror and scowled at each other. Apparently, that feud might not be quite over. However, with me in one camp and Charlie in the other, maybe we could do something to ease the tension.
Misha and I spent two weeks in Ottawa, packing up the house, preparing it for the rental market.
Getting rid of it seemed premature, even as I couldn’t imagine a life without my Russian elf.
Would life in Siberia suit me? Probably not, but Misha promised we would travel often, and that was something I did want to do, especially if he was by my side.
Eventually, we returned to the enclave, with more of my clothes than Misha deemed necessary but grudgingly strapped to the top of his SUV. We’d also brought my mirror so Charlie and I could resume our bi-weekly chats. The first thing I did when we got there?
Ran to the courtyard to find Dasha sitting on a bench talking to someone with green hair.
It couldn’t be.
The man, handsome if you ignored the cocky smirk, stood. “Hello, Florence.”
“Cedric, is that really you?”
“In the flesh. Finally.”
And what did this brave witch do? Burst into tears.
They didn’t last long because, after all, Cedric was cured and back to being a pompous ass.
The elves had been saved and actually seemed to like me and no longer plotted my murder.
Misha proclaimed his love daily—and showed it in very intensely erotic ways.
Oh, and instead of getting a pet cat, I ended up with a Yeti.
Turned out Zana was quite the sweetie, and unlike Cedric, I didn’t mind it when she cradled and rocked me.
I especially enjoyed it when Misha would come to fetch me and Zana would grab him and toss him headfirst into a snowbank.
To think, becoming a witch by fluke led to my happily ever after—but for the record, I still hate butterflies.