Epilogue
Mariah
A few weeks later, we gathered just after sunset outside what had once been the Council’s administrative tower, now converted into something far humbler, and far better: a hall for meetings, meals, and laughter.
The long table we’d set up inside sported mismatched, scavenged chairs, dented, chipped dishes, and a patchwork tablecloth that Lia had bartered from one of the freed tailors, but it worked.
A few candles flickered down the length of the table.
Someone had acquired a few bottles of homemade wine, and the smell of roasted meat drifted throughout the massive room.
What remained of Varek’s old squad joined us too—Joren, Rafe, and Brenna—the last of his loyal Outer Guard.
They didn’t wear their uniforms anymore; their armor had been traded for worn jackets and laughter that didn’t sound like soldiers anymore.
The three of them sat at one end of the table, talking together.
There was an empty chair for Gareth, left intentionally that way in honor of their fallen friend and brother.
None of them said his name, but all of them looked at it more than once.
Lia sat across from me, her hair tied back, her eyes brighter than I’d seen them in a long time. Silas leaned beside her, his hand resting on hers, the position insignificant but clearly affectionate.
Rowan was at the far end of the table, trying to argue good-naturedly with Kendra about how much seasoning should go on the meat. She laughed, tossing him a naughty look that made the massive, stoic wolf blush, and I couldn’t help but smile.
Varek sat beside me, sleeves rolled up, forearms dusted with soot from helping Silas with the continuing work of rebuilding the power grid that day. He poured me a glass of wine, his fingers brushing mine as he handed it over.
“You’re staring,” he murmured, a grin tugging at his mouth.
“I’m just thinking,” I said, taking a sip. “I don’t think I’ve ever gathered for a dinner like this.”
He chuckled in the sexiest, sweetest way. “No gunfire, no blood, no one waiting to capture you or kill me. I could get used to this.”
“Me too,” I grinned.
We talked for a while longer, and then Commander Soren arrived.
Her uniform jacket was slung over one shoulder, her hair unbraided and flowing, long and lustrous, over her shoulders and down her back.
Her dark eyes glinted in the torchlight.
She’d spent the day inspecting the new perimeter walls, but when she sat, she smiled, a small, tired smile that still somehow lit up the space.
“Eat,” she ordered, sitting down beside Rowan. “That’s an order.”
We laughed, and for a while, we did nothing but eat and drink and talk. The hall hummed softly, the air inside alive with faint sounds of laughter, music, and conversation, the rhythm of people learning how to live free and in equality with one another.
Halfway through dinner, one of the Watch soldiers rose, lifting a glass.
“To the fallen,” he said.
The laughter died.
We raised our glasses in silence, for Elsie, for Gareth, for the ones who never made it home, and for all the men and women that had gotten us here and lost their lives along the way.
When we drank, the silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It was poignant, full of love and respect.
Afterward, as the others lingered around the table still eating and drinking, Soren stood, brushing crumbs from her hands. “I’m heading down to the tunnels in the morning,” she said. “My scouts think there’s still something under the mountains. Maybe more of the Council’s work.”
Rowan frowned. “You think there’s anything left?”
“After what we’ve seen,” she said, slinging her jacket over her shoulder, “I think it’s foolish to assume there’s not.”
Silas looked up. “You want company?”
Soren shook her head. “Not yet. I’ll take a few of my soldiers, maybe a few of your wolves if you can spare them. I’ll let you know what we find.”
“I’ll see to it that you get whatever you need,” Silas ventured.
I leaned into Varek’s side, resting my head on his shoulder.
The laughter and conversation picked up again, Kendra teasing Rowan, Lia talking with Silas, the clink of glasses and the low hum of voices rising once more. For a brief, perfect moment, it felt like the world had righted itself.
Then a messenger from the Watch burst through the entrance to the hall, dusty and breathless from the road. Soren walked over to greet him. He bent to whisper a few words in her ear. Her expression changed, the kind of look that froze a room before words were spoken.
Soren straightened, eyes scanning the faces of everyone at the table.
“Have any of you heard,” she said quietly, “about what’s happening in London?”