Epilogue
RILEY
Iadjusted the framed diploma on my office wall for the third time, stepping back to make sure it hung perfectly level.
Beside it, the shadow box containing my first deputy badge from Lonesome Creek formed a neat visual balance.
My new desk, my size but designed to match Dungar’s larger one across the room, gleamed in the low lights.
And my kitten, Jasper, scampered around my desk, chasing a ball with a bell that tinkled.
“A millimeter to the left,” Dungar said from the doorway.
I smiled, making the adjustment to the picture. “Better?”
“Perfect.” He crossed to his desk, opening his new filing cabinet. Each drawer had a specific purpose, labeled in his precise handwriting. Case files in the top drawer, town administration in the second, security protocols in the third.
The house extension had been completed last month, transforming our home into something that perfectly suited both of us.
The matching offices connected by a sliding barn door allowed us to work together or separately as needed.
The additional bedroom down the hall remained empty for now, but the possibility it represented made my heart flutter whenever I thought about it.
“Jamie’s research proposal was accepted,” I said, arranging my pens in the ceramic holder Hail had made specifically for me, the swirls of blue and green matching the rug beneath my desk. “She sent a text. Columbia University sent her an early acceptance letter with a full scholarship.”
Dungar’s chest puffed with pride.
“She’s planning to continue her luminook research when she returns for summer breaks,” I said. “Turns out teenage scientific curiosity just needed proper direction.” I crossed to where he stood, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind. “Your rehabilitation plan worked perfectly.”
He turned in my embrace, his hands settling on my waist. “She needed someone to believe in her potential rather than punish her for her mistakes.”
“Like someone did for me.” I stretched up on my toes, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “You’re a good male, Sheriff Bronish.”
“And you’re a remarkable woman, Deputy Bronish.” He caught my left hand, his thumb brushing over my wedding band. The simple gold ring complemented the mating mark, the two symbols of our bond and our differing worlds working in harmony.
“We should finish getting ready,” I said, though I made no move to step away. “The dance starts in an hour, and Aunt Inla will never forgive us if we’re late.”
“Five more minutes,” he said, bending to nuzzle my neck. “I’m still not used to having you all to myself in our new office.”
“Our perfectly symmetrical, expertly designed office,” I teased, running my fingers through his dark hair. “With matching file cabinets and complementary desk accessories.”
“You’re mocking me.” But his smile against my skin told me he took no offense.
“Never.” I drew back, meeting his eyes. “I adore how thoroughly you’ve made space for me in your life.”
His expression softened. “You are my life, Riley.”
Months into our marriage, and he still had the power to make my heart stumble with just a few words.
“Come on,” I said, reluctantly pulling away. “We have a celebration to attend.”
The function hall glowed with golden light as we approached, the setting sun casting long shadows across Main Street.
Inside, the space had been transformed. Paper lanterns strung from the rafters.
Ribbons in spring greens and yellows adorned the walls, and wildflowers gathered from the surrounding meadows spilled from vases on every table.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, taking in the scene. Record tourism had brought prosperity to Lonesome Creek, and tonight’s dance celebrated our success.
Dungar’s hand rested at the small of my back as we moved toward the buffet table lining one wall.
The scents of traditional orc foods mingled with familiar human dishes created a mouth-watering combination.
Cragroot fritters, still sizzling from the fryer, sat beside platters of fried chicken.
Bowls of dartling berry compote waited to be spooned over vanilla ice cream, and Sel’s famous cinnamon rolls formed perfect spirals on tiered platters.
“Riley, Dungar!” Aunt Inla bustled over, looking fantastic in a prairie dress of spring green with a matching bonnet. “So glad you’ve both arrived.”
“The hall looks amazing,” I said, giving her a hug. “You’ve done an amazing job.”
She’d organized most of the event—with Lavon’s help.
“Lavon did most of the decorating.” Her cheeks darkened as she glanced toward the buffet table where Lavon stood, directing his staff. “He understands colors so well.”
“And you also,” Dungar said with a teasing lilt to his voice.
“Hush, you.” But Aunt Inla’s tusk-filled smile showed her pleasure. “Go visit. The music starts soon.”
At the far end of the hall, a group of orcs I didn’t recognize were setting up instruments on a small stage. They wore traditional clothing, embroidered with luminescent thread that caught the light, and were new arrivals from the orc kingdom.
“The Stone Echoes,” Dungar said. “They’re the first orc band to tour the surface world. The king arranged for them to perform tonight as part of their cultural exchange program.”
I watched as they tuned their instruments, some familiar, others unlike anything I’d seen before. One female orc adjusted what looked like a cross between a violin and a harp, while another tested the resonance of a hollow wooden drum.
“It’s hard to believe how much has changed,” I said, accepting a glass of dartling berry punch from a passing server. “Not long ago, I was still looking over my shoulder, expecting danger around every corner.”
“And now?” Dungar’s arm slipped around my waist, drawing me against his side.
I surveyed the room, taking in the faces of people I now called family and friends. “Now I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”
Tark stepped onto the stage in front of the band, his voice ringing over the crowd as he recited a poem he’d written specifically for the occasion, something describing spring renewal and community bonds that managed to be both earnest and surprisingly moving.
When he finished, the band started playing.
“Shall we?” Dungar held out his hand, his dark eyes warm.
I placed my hand in his much larger one. “Lead the way, Sheriff.”
We joined the other couples forming squares on the dance floor. Gracie stood across from us, laughing as Tark whispered something in her ear. She caught my eye and winked.
“His poetry book is selling like crazy,” she said as we linked arms for the first move. “I’m not surprised that orcs with feelings would be such a hit with the human literary world.”
“Everyone loves a sensitive warrior,” I said, spinning under Dungar’s arm as the caller directed.
“Promenade your partner,” they sang out, and we moved in a circle, arms linked with the other couples in our square.
I caught glimpses of the other Bronish brothers and their mates as we danced.
Greel led Jessi onto the floor, one hand hovering near the small of her back in a protective way.
Her pregnancy had just begun to show. His eyes never left her face, as if she might need something only he could provide at any moment.
“They look happy,” I told Dungar as we came together again.
“Greel’s been reading every pregnancy book he can find,” he said. “I suggested he create a daily nutrition plan with optimal vitamins for each trimester, but he didn’t sound too excited about the idea.”
His sparkling eyes made me laugh.
As the dance continued, I spotted Ruugar swinging Beth in wide circles. Their daughter Noma toddled at the edge of the dance floor, clapping as she watched her parents. Each time she wobbled, Ruugar’s eyes darted to her, though he never missed a step of the dance.
“Allemande left with the corner girl,” the caller sang out, and I was passed to Sel, whose gentle hands guided me through the turn.
“How’s Max enjoying school?” I asked as we circled each other.
Sel’s face lit up at the mention of his stepson. “He’s doing great.”
I glanced toward the buffet where Holly stood beside Max, both wearing matching aprons as they arranged desserts on platters.
“Do-si-do your partner,” came the call, and I returned to Dungar, moving back-to-back around him before facing him again.
“Having fun?” he asked, his hands spanning my waist as he lifted me during the next move.
“So much.”
The music changed tempo, becoming more energetic. Across the room, Hail and Allie swayed together. They’d recently expanded their classes to include offerings to a local nursing home. Alzheimer’s patients came once a week to make pottery, and the program was a huge success already.
Becken sat with Carla near the refreshment table, Carla cradling their newborn son in her arms. Their two-week-old slept peacefully despite the noise. Becken stroked his son’s dark hair, his expression full of wonder and fierce protection.
“Big circle, ladies in the middle,” the caller directed, and we formed a new pattern, the women circling inward while the males moved outward.
I found myself between Aunt Inla and Rosey. She and Ostor had opened a jewelry shop specializing in pieces that incorporated traditional orc designs with surface world stones. All designed with fymsom, naturally. I’d been stunned when Dungar gave me a nugget.
“Your necklace is beautiful,” I told Rosey, admiring the luminescent stones set in fymsom hanging at her throat.
“Ostor mined and cut the gems himself.” She stroked the pendant. “He says they remind him of my eyes.”
The dance moved on, partners changing and reforming in new combinations.
Tark occasionally called out his own poetic interpretations of the dance moves, and our laughter rang out.
At the edge of the room, a table displayed stacks of his newly published poetry book, “Surface Reflections,” each autographed. We’d take one when we left.
As the song ended, Lavon stepped onto the dance floor, wearing a formal suit that seemed to surprise everyone, including Aunt Inla. The music quieted, and he made his way to where she stood, a hush falling over the crowd.
“Inla Bronish,” he said, his voice carrying across the suddenly silent room. “You have brought light and laughter to my life in ways I never expected.”
A collective intake of breath rippled through the gathering as he lowered himself to one knee, producing a small box from his pocket.
“Would you do me the honor of becoming my mate?” He opened the box, revealing a ring set with a stone that caught the light, throwing rainbow patterns across Aunt Inla’s surprised face.
Her hands flew to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. For a moment, the talkative Aunt Inla seemed speechless. Then she nodded, extending a trembling hand. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
Cheers rang out as Lavon slipped the ring onto her finger and rose to lift her off her feet, swinging her around while they kissed. We all cheered.
Dungar’s arm tightened around my waist, and I leaned into him, sharing in their happiness.
“Dance with me?” he asked as the music started again, this time a slower melody that invited couples to hold each other close.
I stepped into his embrace without hesitation. “Always.”
The night air cooled my flushed cheeks as Dungar and I stepped onto the wide porch spanning the back of the function hall. After hours of dancing, the quiet felt welcome. Stars scattered across the sky, brighter and more numerous than I’d ever seen in the city I grew up in.
“Happy?” Dungar asked, his arm a warm weight across my shoulders.
“Completely.” I leaned into him. “Sometimes I can’t believe this is my life now.”
“No more running. No more looking over your shoulder.”
“No more temporary safe houses or assumed names.” I looked up at him, at the strong lines on his face silvery in the moonlight. His tusks gleamed. “Just this place. These people. Honesty between us. And you.”
His kiss made my heart flip over. When he pulled back, his dark eyes held mine with an intensity that still made me smile after all this time.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his fingers tracing a pattern on my shoulder. “About the empty bedroom in the new extension.”
My pulse quickened. “Oh?”
“It would make an excellent youngling room.” His voice held a question.
I placed my hand over his heart. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
Joy bloomed across his face. “Really?”
“Really.” I stretched up to kiss him again. “I think it’s time we added to our family, don’t you?”
His arms tightened around me, lifting me off my feet in an embrace that spoke of his love. Behind us, music and laughter spilled from the open doors, the celebration continuing without us.
“We should go back inside,” I said when he set me down. “Your aunt will be looking for us to toast her engagement.”
Dungar nodded, but neither of us moved. We stood together a moment longer, his arm around my waist, my head against his chest, both of us looking out at the land that had become our home.
The mountains surrounding Lonesome Creek etched a path across the sky, bathed in moonlight. Luminooks had emerged from their dens, their spines glowing as they greeted the evening.
We turned and walked back into the light and music, back to the family and community we’d built together, back to the future waiting for us.
I’d come to Lonesome Creek seeking safety and found so much more. A home. A purpose. And a love so deep it had rewritten everything I thought I knew about belonging.
Tonight, surrounded by the people who’d become my family, with Dungar’s hand in mine, I knew without a doubt that I had finally stopped running.
Aw, I’m going to miss my orc cowboys and Lonesome Creek!
Thank you for riding the trail with me. I couldn’t have done it without you.
All my best, Ava