Epilogue
Risa Porto no longer believed in bad luck.
Waiting for an audience with the king of Kheadon, Javi at her side and Brunie napping on her shoulder, Risa wasn’t worried about telling the king that she was mostly in love with his son (excluding the times when that son was a fool or tried to flirt his way out of problems he’d brought upon himself).
Javi, on the other hand, was very worried.
“I got us a treaty,” he mumbled to himself.
He paced the length of the greeting hall, hands clasped behind his back.
“It’s a damn good one, too! And Amina’s managed to get Madros into rather decent shape after two months on the throne.
I’ve even got this horrible scar. That must count for something. ”
The scar he spoke of had healed so nicely, all that remained was a pale splotch on his chest, visible only in certain lights.
Not that Risa looked. He had just really enjoyed stripping down in the Madrosian castle gardens to work on his tan, and she sometimes strolled by to get away when Amina and Perla started whispering to each other like she wasn’t there.
“Don’t be so melodramatic.”
His narrowed gaze was wary. “Professing my love did nothing to make you nicer?”
“I don’t recall you professing your love. I think all you said was thank you.”
“Now you’re just being mean.”
“I thought you liked our banter.”
“I do, but sometimes I could do with a reassuring word.”
Risa tapped a finger on her chin, as if she were thinking very long and hard. “You’re very handsome.”
He scowled. A moment later, he mumbled, rather dejectedly, “Fine, that works.”
She smiled.
For the first time in a long time, Risa looked forward to the next year. All of it. Wherever it took her. Whether it was back to the Bosque, to Linda in her underground tunnels, or to Cairn—
Perhaps she should avoid Cairn.
Wherever she was meant to go, she knew that bad things might follow and that bad days would come. It was inevitable, just like breaking curses and falling in love. But whatever bad came, there would also be a lot of good.
So long as she had love. The thing she’d been starving for—the thing she’d wanted most—would always be there.
Love for Brunie, who slept soundly curled on her shoulder.
Love for Amina, who was rebuilding her castle and kingdom with the help of all those who cared for her: Paulo, Perla, the newly appointed royal witch, even the Regent.
Love for Javi, who still tested her patience and flirted incessantly, though now it was only with her.
For her parents and the town that never wanted her, and the rain and the sun and everything that made her life worth living.
And most of all, for herself. Because even when love changed and evolved, she knew she could find it within.
An armored guard decked in the royal purple and gold of the Kheadon family appeared at the double doors that led to the throne room.
“The king will see you now.”
Javi shuffled to her side and offered his hand. Brunie opened one lazy eye, saw that nothing important was happening, and closed it.
Risa slipped her hand in Javi’s. Together they entered the vast chamber and stopped at the foot of the platform where a wizened old man, who looked like Javi seventy years into the future, sat on a large wooden throne with a lion carved on its back. His gold crown sat askew as he regarded them.
She curtsied like she’d practiced with Amina and Perla, while Javi greeted him with a haughty “Hey, Pa.”
“Insolent child,” his father chided him, though there was little bark in the words. “I send you to get married, and you come back with news that someone else is on your throne.”
“I come back with a treaty and the proper monarch installed on the throne, if that alleviates the sting.”
It was good to know that Javi was an absolute horror to everyone. How anyone managed to find him charming was beyond Risa’s ability to comprehend.
The king seemed to notice her for the first time. “Who is she?”
“My intended wife. I’ve decided I’m going to marry her instead.”
Risa quickly straightened. “But I haven’t decided anything. We’re taking it slow, seeing where it goes.”
Javi glared at her with mock offense. The king regarded her with apprehension in his narrowed gold gaze. He even steepled his fingers, the move so familiar Risa almost laughed.
“Your name?”
“Risa Porto. Of Barrow.” She cleared her throat and added, “Your Majesty.”
“Good save,” Javi whispered.
The king scratched his chin, the cleft less pronounced with age. “Mayor Porto’s daughter.”
“That’s me.”
“Brunhilda told me about you.” But he did not elaborate on what the witch might have said, nor did he look particularly thrilled by whatever information he’d been told. The king turned to his son with a sigh. “Would you reconsider if I say no?”
Javi glanced at Risa, and her heart stuttered over his smile. “Not a chance.”
“Fine.” The king waved his hand. “Do what you want. Have Brunhilda marry the two of you.”
Javi nodded. “Should I send for her?”
“I’m not marrying you now,” Risa reminded him. She had made her requirements very clear: He had to wait at least a year before he could ply her with rings and gifts and force her into an ostentatious dress that would pale in comparison to his own suit.
He shrugged her concern away. “Yes, but Brunhilda should still be here for the news. She’ll be thrilled to know I’ve found happiness with a soon-to-be Most Royal Pain. Which used to be my title.”
The king furrowed his brow. Pointed a long, crooked finger at Risa—or something behind her. “What are you talking about? Brunhilda is right there.”
Risa spun around, prepared to give that damn witch a piece of her mind for everything she’d put her through. But there was no one in the throne room with them besides the guards.
She eyed the guard closest to the door. Was he Brunhilda?
Then Brunie stretched out on her shoulder. Yawned. Flicked his tail back and forth. He leaped into the air, and by the time he landed on the floor, he had transformed into the short, shriveled, tree-stump-looking witch who Risa remembered last seeing in the Bosque.
The old woman lifted her trusty walking stick and waved it at Risa. “Ready to get married, girl?”
“The cat?” Risa asked.
Brunhilda cackled, then frowned, as if suddenly remembering something rather sour. “You called me ugly. But we can talk about that later. Right now I just want to get back to my cottage.”
“You were with us the entire time?” Risa’s voice rose a few decibels.
The witch shrugged, picking at her teeth with her jagged fingernails.
“Why didn’t you help?”
“I did.” Brunhilda held her cane aloft. “Who do you think turned his hair blond?”
Javi gasped and reared back, stung by the betrayal. He wrapped a curl around his finger and tugged. “That was you?”
“It certainly wasn’t her.”
“You could have helped us in Cairn! Or in Spearbelly, for that matter. Or on the airship. Or at the wedding!” Javi sputtered. He finally seemed to grasp the situation.
“I was a cat. There isn’t much a cat can do.”
Understanding dawned on Risa.
“You knew I wasn’t cursed.”
The witch frowned. “Yes. I told you. You simply weren’t listening.”
“I feel,” Risa started, hip cocked, foot tapping, “like I could have been spared a lot of heartache if you’d just explained that to me.”
Brunhilda shrugged. “But then you wouldn’t have grown.”
Risa Porto was right.
There was no such thing as a Bad Thing.
Only Brunhilda.
THE END