Epilogue #3
The wind lifted her hair again, brushing it across her cheek. She pushed it back absently, eyes never leaving mine.
She didn’t step away or brace herself. She trusted me.
For most of my life, kneeling meant submission or defeat. My father had used the posture to humiliate enemies and demand obedience.
I had never knelt willingly.
I did now.
Not because ritual demanded it, but because I wanted to meet her eyes from a place of chosen devotion.
Wind pressed against my back as I lowered myself onto one knee.
Her breath left her in a stunned exhale. “Arthur,” she whispered.
I reached into my coat and drew out the ring made from old gold, forged centuries ago from my own ancestors—metal that had once symbolized conquest and accumulation.
I had melted and reshaped it myself. Reset it with a clean, modern stone that caught the city lights and fractured them into something brighter.
Past remade for future.
I held it up between us.
“I have spent my life holding myself in check,” I said. “Holding power. Holding temper. Holding expectation. You are the first thing I have ever reached for without restraint.”
The castle loomed behind her.
None of it felt relevant.
“I have never wanted anything the way I want to build a life with you.”
Her eyes filled immediately.
“You changed the way I see the world,” I continued. “The way I see myself. You stabilized what I thought was broken. You chose me when I did not believe I was enough.”
The words did not burn on the way out. They didn’t shame me. The words were simply true.
“I want to stand beside you for our whole lives. To build something that is ours. To watch you become everything you were always meant to be and know I get to witness it.”
The wind roared briefly across the hilltop.
I held her gaze. “Will you marry me, Dr. Ripley?”
Behind her, I could see Caliban standing rigidly still. Eloise’s hand was clasped around his arm so tightly she might have bruised him.
I didn’t look away from Artemis. I didn’t look away from my future.
She stared at me, then she laughed, the sound bright and lovely and so completely wonderful.
“You are so dramatic,” she said, voice shaking. Tears slipped down her cheeks, shining in the city light.
I waited.
“Arthur,” she breathed, stepping closer until the tips of her boots nearly touched my knee. “You absolute, impossible, perfect man.” She wiped at her face furiously. “Yes.”
Then louder— “Yes.”
Relief moved through me so fast and clean it nearly stole my balance.
Behind her, Caliban exhaled audibly, like a man who had been holding tension for a week.
Eloise let out a triumphant sound that echoed across the hill.
“I told you,” she shouted into the night. “Chapter three!”
Artemis laughed again, shaking her head as I slid the ring onto her finger.
She reached for me immediately, pulling me to my feet before I could complete any further ceremonial dignity.
Her arms wrapped around my neck. Mine closed around her waist. Wind whipped around us. Bagpipes drifted faintly from somewhere below. The city shimmered at our backs.
“You’re kneeling on ancient stone in Scotland,” she murmured against my mouth. “You are miraculous.”
“I am consistent,” I corrected.
She kissed me.
Caliban cleared his throat pointedly behind us. “Shall I alert the clan,” he asked dryly, “or do we prefer to enjoy this moment before the paperwork begins?”
Eloise smacked his arm. “Let them breathe.”
I rested my forehead against Artemis’s. “You said yes,” I whispered.
She smiled, tears still clinging to her lashes. “I said yes.”
Eloise hooked her arm through Caliban’s and tugged him downhill with theatrical discretion. “We’re giving you privacy,” she announced, loudly enough to ensure the opposite.
Caliban inclined his head. “We are masters of subtlety.”
“You are wearing a coat that costs more than my first car,” Eloise said. “Nothing about you is subtle.”
They bickered their way toward the path, hands brushing, shoulders aligned in a way that would have scandalized my younger self.
I watched them go, then I looked back at the woman I loved.
Artemis stood at the edge of Calton Hill, the wind lifting her hair in restless ribbons around her face. Edinburgh spread below us—stone and spire and gold-lit windows. The castle cut a dark shape against the sky, ancient and unmoving.
She held her hand up slightly, turning it so the city lights caught the ring.
Old gold. New stone.
Past reshaped. Future chosen.
Her laugh was softer now. Quieter. The kind that settled instead of erupted.
“Arthur,” she said under her breath, as if testing the sound of it in this version of the world. “You proposed to me on a hill in Scotland.”
“Yes.”
She glanced at me. “You really went for it.”
“I don’t favor half-measures.”
She smiled at that.
Doctor.
Author.
Brilliant.
And mine.
I had once dreamed of walking these streets unburdened.
I had imagined anonymity as freedom. Distance as safety. A life untouched by expectation. I had not known the greater miracle would be walking them claimed.
Chosen.
Beside her.