Epilogue
Ragnar
“Carry me like a princess over the threshold,” demanded Brioni, lifting her arms and fluttering her lashes.
“It would be my pleasure.” Ragnar scooped her up and tucked her in close against him so he could rumble in her ear. “But I am no prince.”
She clicked her tongue. “Princesses don’t want princes, Ragnar—they want rough, beefy stable boys.”
“I assure you, I am not a stable boy either.”
“Oh, I know.” Brioni waggled her brows and booped him on the nose—that was what she called it anyway when she assured him it was a tap of endearment and not a rebuke. “You’re all demon.”
He gave her body an extra squeeze just like the one around his heart, the bind from his soul to hers reminding him that it was as lovely as it was inseverable.
“Oh, my gods, it’s beautiful in here!” Brioni broke their loving gaze, eyes darting around the greenhouse as she began doing that very specific squirm that said ‘let me down’ without words. “I’ve gotta find Kat!”
Reluctantly, Ragnar set her inside the glass building and watched her scurry away to marvel at the plants and find her human friend.
Alone, Ragnar managed one good leveling breath and took in the chamber and its inhabitants.
He had been practicing this, a thing others would just call existing.
The discomfort didn’t come like he expected, though—his body didn’t seize up, and his mind didn’t search for exits through which to escape.
Instead, he noticed the decorations, the newest blooms, the artwork, and how demons and humans both mingled before him, and it was all…fine. He wasn’t even the only gray demon in attendance, and Kizros, his closest friend after Brioni, was gesturing for him to join them.
Ragnar strode over to the green demon and gave him and his human Aofe a polite nod. “You are exceptionally blue today,” Ragnar said, grinning widely.
Aofe looked to have a moment of confusion, and Ragnar felt that anxious tightness in his limbs—was he not supposed to say? But then her hand came up to her hair and she laughed. “Thank you! I just refreshed it but wasn’t sure if anyone would notice.”
Oh, thank the gods. After succeeding in trading a few more polite words about how well they’d done with the place, he excused himself, deciding to step away while he was still ahead. It may have only been a short conversation, but he was sure it counted.
He strode over to a painting and gazed up at the colors splashed over the canvas, the brilliance of a golden streak stark against a deep violet sky, and then a shock of red darting through its center on wildly spread wings.
“I don’t know what it is either,” said the deep, monotone voice of Severath who had appeared at his side.
“It’s a bird,” he assured the red demon.
Severath insisted he still couldn’t see it, even as Ragnar pointed out the wings, the beak, the tail, the curve of its breast, the glimmer in its eye, the curl to its feet as it soared through the sky.
The two went back and forth, and Ragnar even covered one of his eyes to see if that was the problem until Severath gave him a punch to his shoulder and told him to fuck off in the friendliest way possible.
“Fine, it’s a bird,” he finally conceded. “So then what’s the big yellow streak?”
“That’s love.”
Severath squinted his good eye at the canvas, drawing in a breath as he stared.
Ragnar wasn’t sure where that had come from, but he knew it was true.
“Oh. I see it now.” Severath shrugged. “It’s nice.”
A cold nose snuffled at Ragnar’s hand, and Attie was there, silvery and excitable, her tail wagging with abandon.
“Careful. You never know when they’re going to grow into their fire,” Severath warned as he walked off to where Ember stood, her ear pressed to a closet door and hand winding through the air, beckoning her demon over.
That wasn’t true, of course: Attie was as magicless as he, but that wasn’t really so bad. In fact, she might have been better for it, helpful, kind, friendly, and good. Definitely good.
Laughter lit up the air, and Ragnar followed it to Brioni, her hands waving all about as she spoke.
Her red curls bounced even with half of them pinned back, and her fast-moving lips glimmered under the warm, bright light that was unique to the greenhouse.
She spoke excitedly with…oh, gods, what were their names?
Camdren…and Valgoth—that was right. Prepared, he sauntered over but was surprised by what he heard.
“And then Ragnar swept me out of the way and leapt at him with his claws, ripping out his throat and killing him dead just for calling me that word.”
Either Camdren or Valgoth gasped—Ragnar wasn’t sure who was which—and the other grinned widely. “Oh, and here’s the demon of the hour now.”
“That is not what happened,” he growled as he came up behind Brioni and placed hands on her shoulders. “The two of them already know it was you who saved me.”
“Oh, I know,” Brioni said in that whiny voice that made his stomach tighten with anticipation. “But I like it better this way. I want to be the damsel in distress.”
He eyed the two demons who traded glances and pretended to recognize someone from across the room. With them gone, Ragnar snaked a hand around Brioni’s waist and tugged her close. “You will most definitely be in distress later tonight if you keep telling everyone these naughty little lies.”
She walked her fingers up his chest and tickled at the place where his tunic opened up. “Promise?”
“Only if you’re good.” He pulled her into a kiss.
“Can I spend the night tonight?” she asked when she leaned back, biting her lip.
“Anytime and for as long as you want.