EPILOGUE #3
“There you are.” Addie pulled me into a hug the moment she reached me. Her voice had regained its strength over the past months, no longer the fragile whisper of someone barely clinging to life. “We have news.”
Fenmark’s hand found hers. “We’re getting married. We’ll hold a spring ceremony.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said with a grin.
Addie’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve formally abolished the Day of Mercy. The last execution happened before you left to kill your king.”
“I didn’t try to kill him,” I said with a huff.
They all laughed.
“You’re such a tease,” I said.
“People are signing up for the first realm-wide Rite of Bonds this summer,” she said.
Candidates from all the courts would compete together, learning from each other. Trade agreements had already been established. Magic users were coming forward without fear.
Trew’s pride flowed through our bond. “You’ve accomplished a lot in just a few months.”
“I had a good example.” Addie looked at me. “Someone who showed me that real strength isn’t about maintaining power. It’s about knowing when to stomp on something that’s rotten and build something better in its place.”
My throat closed off. “You were always better at politics than me.”
“Maybe, but you were always better at burning things down when they needed burning. And Caldrith needed you to raze it to the ground before I could build it back up.”
We hugged, sisters who’d survived everything our father and the world had thrown at us.
“The nightmares still come sometimes,” Addie whispered. “The tower. Lord Alfred’s face. The feeling of the veil tearing me apart.”
“I have them too.” I squeezed her hands. “Father’s whip. The mask I hated wearing. All those faces watching me preside over death while pretending we were giving mercy.”
“But we’re healing.”
“We are.”
I held her tight, both of us blinking back tears. When we separated, she smiled through the wetness.
“Let’s set up monthly visits,” she said. “We’ll alternate kingdoms. One month you come to Caldrith, and the next I’ll come here.”
“I’d like that.”
She glanced around, making sure no one was close enough to overhear, then leaned in to speak by my ear.
“Don’t tell anyone yet. Fenmark and I haven’t made a public announcement.
I’m pregnant.” The words came out in a rush, her face coloring with happiness.
“It’s early still, but I’m going to be a mother, Isi, and you’re going to be an aunt.
I thought if we have a girl I’d name her Marlane. ”
“Mother would love that.” I grabbed her in another hug, this one fierce enough to make her laugh. “That’s incredible. Amazing. Perfect.” Her eyes shone with tears. “Everything our father feared, we’ll embrace. Everything he tried to destroy, we’ll nurture and protect.”
“Exactly. I can’t wait to hold our precious child in my arms.”
The music shifted to something slower, more intimate, and we swayed together, happy with the choices we’d made and the lives we were building.
Finally, Trew raised his hand for silence. The crowd gradually quieted, conversation dying down as people turned to face their king.
“Thank you all for celebrating with us tonight,” he said, his voice carrying across the space. “Three months ago, we sealed the veil and ended a threat that had plagued our land for far too long. But the changes we’ve been implementing go beyond only defeating the Skathes.”
He gestured to where several large creatures stood at the ballroom’s edges, Beast Council representatives in their small forms, invited to witness this announcement.
“After extensive consultation with the Beast Council, we’re making changes to the Rite of Bonds.
The trials will still test candidates’ worthiness, and they’ll still demand courage, strength, and the ability to work together.
But we’re implementing safety measures that should’ve existed from the beginning. ”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some sounded approving, others uncertain.
I stepped forward to stand beside him. “Companions who reject a recruit will no longer kill them. Rejected recruits will have the opportunity to try again in future Rites or serve in other capacities within the kingdom. There are many ways to contribute beyond bonding.”
More murmurs rang out, louder now. A few nobles looked scandalized at the idea of softening the Rite’s deadly nature.
“The first modified Rite will include recruits from Syllavar, Caldrith, and Velmire,” Trew said.
“King Darvon has already sent word that twenty of his people are eager to participate, including himself. We’re building something bigger than any single kingdom, something that embraces differences instead of fearing them. ”
The Beast Council representatives dipped their heads in unison, acknowledging the changes they’d helped shape.
A lord near the front spoke up. “But the danger made candidates prove themselves. Removing the threat of death takes away the motivation to excel.”
“Not really.” I met his eyes. “Honor isn’t found only in violence. Real strength is choosing life instead of death. Protecting your fellow recruits serves us all better than stepping over their bodies to claim victory.”
Silence held for a long moment.
Then Betina from the kitchen started clapping. Others joined in. It started as a trickle, then turned into a wave, until the entire ballroom echoed with applause.
Trew’s satisfaction and pride blazed through our bond.
The music started again, this time a slower melody that pulled couples onto the dance floor. Trew turned to me.
“One more dance?” he asked. “Then we can escape to somewhere quieter.”
“Just one?”
His smile turned wicked. “For now.”
He pulled me into his arms, and we found our place among the other dancers.
His forehead dropped to rest against mine, and his breath warmed my lips. “Any regrets, Minx?”
“Let me think for a moment.”
His low laugh rang out, and he spun us in a slow circle. “Are you certain?”
I let my eyes drift closed, feeling his heartbeat against mine, his magic soaring through our bond.
“No regrets,” I whispered. “Not a single one.”
“Liar.” But his voice held warmth. “You regret donning that hideous wedding dress.”
I groaned. “We agreed never to speak of that again.”
“You agreed. I made no such promise.”
King Cyril had forced me into a dress designed to humiliate rather than show me honor. Trew had vowed to commission something beautiful for our actual wedding.
He’d kept that promise. The ceremony today had been everything I’d never let myself dream of. I’d worn a dress of silver and gold that made me feel powerful instead of fragile. Friends stood with us instead of hostile witnesses. Our vows were spoken freely rather than coerced.
Around us, the ballroom pulsed with life.
Companions perched on shoulders or curled in laps, connected to their partners in ways that transcended normal friendship.
Caldrith and Syllavar citizens mingled freely, conversation flowing between people who’d been taught to fear each other not so long ago.
Through the tall windows, I could still see hints of the wasteland in the distance. Green had reclaimed most of it now, corruption retreating day by day as magic reasserted itself. No more Skathes. No more death spreading from a breach in a veil that should protect us.
Just life, returning in all its beauty.
I’d been many things in my twenty-six years.
The Lady of Mercy dispensing death while wearing a bone-white mask.
The princess in a gilded cage, obedient and silent and slowly suffocating.
The recruit who’d stabbed a king and survived a deadly Rite.
And the woman who’d helped seal a tear in reality itself.
But tonight, swaying in Trew’s arms and with our companions and friends celebrating around us, I was simply Isi.
Loved. Chosen. Free.
And that was enough.
More than enough, actually.
It was everything.