Epilogue
ELOWEN
Three Years Later
The goats are bleating again.
I set down my mortar and pestle, wiping chamomile dust from my hands, and go to the greenhouse window. Sure enough, Clover and Sage have escaped their pen again and are currently attempting to eat the rosemary hedge.
"Your goats are loose!" I call toward the house.
I feel Calder's amused resignation before I hear his voice. "They're our goats, princess. You're the one who named them after herbs."
"That doesn't make them less your responsibility!"
His laughter carries across the yard as he emerges from the house, heading toward the renegade goats with practiced patience. Three years of farmhouse living has made him surprisingly competent at goat wrangling.
I watch him work, hand settling unconsciously over my still-flat stomach. Three months. Twins. A secret we've kept close while we adjusted to the reality of it.
But today, we tell people.
The farmhouse sits in the valley about twenty minutes from Mira's cottage, close enough to visit easily, far enough to have our own space.
It's modest compared to the Ashford estate, but it's ours.
Built with help from Calder's family, designed by all four of us, every room exactly what we need and nothing we don't.
The greenhouse is my favorite part. Larger than the one at Elderwood, with better light and temperature control. Rows of medicinal herbs, experimental plantings from seeds I brought back from India, the traditional varieties Asha would have grown.
Asha. Great-great-grandmother. Healer. The reason I exist.
We found her village eighteen months ago: Kumbakonam, in Tamil Nadu, where the earth is rich and the plants grow with an almost sacred vitality. The village elders remembered the Rowan family, remembered Asha who married the British man and left but never forgot her roots.
They taught me things Mira couldn't, techniques passed down through generations, plant combinations specific to that soil, that climate, that ancestral knowledge. Julian documented everything with careful precision, filling three notebooks and hundreds of photos.
We came home different. Settled. Ready.
And then, finally, it happened.
"You're thinking too loud."
I turn to find Tyler in the greenhouse doorway, smiling that sunrise smile that still makes my heart kick. I smile.
"Excitement and nerves and something that feels like..." He crosses to me, hands settling at my waist. "Are you ready for this?"
"Terrified," I admit. "What if something goes wrong? What if—"
"Then we handle it together. Like everything else." He kisses my forehead. "But nothing's going to go wrong. You're healthy, the babies are healthy, we're going to tell our families today and they're going to be so happy they'll probably cry."
"Your mom will definitely cry."
"My mom cries at everything." He grins. "It's her superpower."
Julian approaches, precise footsteps, careful energy, the particular flavor of his presence that means he's processing something big. He appears in the doorway, pale blue eyes finding mine immediately.
"The fellowship committee called." His voice is carefully neutral. "Harvard wants an answer by next week."
My stomach drops. "Julian—"
"I'm thinking," he says. "Strategically considering all variables."
"You should go," I say firmly. "It's Harvard. It's your dream. You'd be researching pack dynamics at the highest level, teaching, publishing—"
"And leaving you. Leaving pack. For at least two years, possibly more."
"We'd visit," Tyler says. "We'd make it work."
"Statistically, long-distance pack bonds show increased stress markers—"
"We're not statistics," I interrupt gently. "We're us. And you deserve this opportunity."
Through the bond, his conflict is palpable. Want and duty and love pulling in different directions.
"We'll talk about it later," Calder says, entering with two recaptured goats in tow. "After we tell people about the pregnancy. One major life decision at a time."
Julian's eyes sharpen. "You're ready to tell them?"
"We're ready," I confirm. "Everyone's coming this afternoon. It's time."
Mira arrives first, as always.
She lets herself in through the kitchen door, sets a basket of fresh bread on the counter, and pulls me into a hug before I can say anything.
"You're glowing," she observes, stepping back to study me. "And your scent has changed. Deeper. Warmer."
"How did you—"
"I'm old, little one. Not oblivious." She touches my cheek. "How far along?"
"Three months. Twins."
Her eyes water immediately. "Oh, Elowen."
"We wanted to wait. To be sure. After everything..." I trail off.
She understands without me explaining. The year and a half of trying. The disappointment each month. The well-meaning questions from families that became weight instead of support. The decision to stop trying, to travel instead, to live.
And then, three months after we came home from India, the test showed positive.
"You're sure now?" Mira asks.
"The doctor confirmed it last week. The babies are healthy."
"Then it's time to celebrate." She squeezes my hands. "The universe has its own timing. Asha would say the babies were waiting for you to find her village first. To come home to your roots before they could take root in you."
Trust Mira to make it poetic instead of medical.
Pen and Maya arrive together an hour later, tumbling out of Pen's beat-up car with the energy of college students on break.
Pen's at Manchester University now, studying kinesiology, still doing gymnastics. Maya's at Elderwood, second year, omega studies with a minor in library science. They've become genuine friends, texting constantly, visiting each other, creating their own pack of sisters.
"Elowen!" Pen hugs me enthusiastically. "Your greenhouse is bigger every time I visit. Are you secretly expanding it when we're not looking?"
"Shh, don’t tell the others. It’s our secret." I wink at her.
Maya's less exuberant, but her hug is just as warm. "How are you? Really?"
"Really good," I say, and mean it.
Calder watches, amused, from the porch. Tyler's in the kitchen with Mira, helping with food preparation. Julian's in his study, video conferencing with someone about the Harvard fellowship.
"Where are the goats?" Maya asks. "I want to see them."
"Probably plotting their next escape," I say. "Come on."
We spend the next hour showing them around, the expanded herb garden, the new greenhouse sections, the root cellar Calder built, the comfortable chaos of our home. They’re curious about India.
"Julian filled three notebooks," I tell them. "He's been working on a paper about traditional omega healthcare practices in South Asian communities."
"That's so Julian," Pen says fondly. "Turning a family trip into academic research."
"It matters though," Maya adds quietly. "Preserving that knowledge. Making sure it doesn't get lost."
She would think that. Maya's spent the last year working on omega advocacy projects, creating resource libraries, documenting different pack structures. Following in my footsteps, maybe, but carving her own path too.
By mid-afternoon, everyone has gathered in our living room.
Mira in the comfortable armchair near the fireplace. Pen and Maya on the floor with photo albums, looking at pictures from India. The three alphas and I squeezed onto the sofa.
I've set up my laptop on the coffee table, video call ready to connect to three different locations: the Ashfords at their estate, the Vales in Millbrook, the Crosses in Riverside.
"Ready?" Calder asks.
I nod, and he clicks the call button.
The screen divides into three windows. Margaret and Robert Ashford appear in one, sitting in their formal drawing room. Catherine and Thomas Vale in another, in their cozy kitchen. Rebecca Cross in the third, at her kitchen table, work files hastily pushed aside.
"Hello!" Catherine's voice comes through warmly. "What a lovely surprise! We weren't expecting a call."
"Is everything alright?" Margaret asks, ever practical.
"Everything's wonderful," Tyler assures them. "We just wanted to share some news. With everyone at once."
"News?" Rebecca leans closer to her camera. "Julian, you look nervous. What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," Julian says. "Everything is... unexpectedly excellent."
I take a breath. "We're pregnant."
Silence. Then chaos.
Catherine bursts into tears immediately, hands over her mouth. Thomas wraps an arm around her, grinning broadly.
Rebecca's eyes go wide, then she laughs, bright and disbelieving. "You're… really? Oh my god, really?"
Margaret's composure cracks just a little. "Pregnant? Elowen, are you certain?"
"The doctor confirmed it last week," I say. "Twelve weeks. Twins."
More chaos. Catherine's crying harder now, saying something about grandchildren and sleepovers. Thomas wipes his eyes. Rebecca asks a million questions at once: how do I feel, have I been sick, what is the due date?
Even Margaret looks emotional, pressing a handkerchief to her eyes. "Twins. Oh my. Robert, did you hear? Twins."
Robert grins. "Congratulations. To all of you. This is wonderful news."
Mira's quiet in her chair, but I can see her smiling, hands folded over her heart.
Pen and Maya are hugging each other, bouncing with excitement. "We're going to be aunties!" Pen announces.
"Have you told anyone else?" Catherine asks, still crying. "Does the rest of the family know?"
"You're the first," Tyler says. "We wanted you to all hear it together."
"After... everything,” I say. “We wanted to be sure before we told people. But this time, everything's perfect. Babies are measuring right on track. I'm feeling good. Just tired and emotional."
“We can confirm that,” Tyler says, beaming.
"That's normal," Catherine assures me. "Perfectly normal. Oh, Thomas, twins! Can you imagine?"
The conversation flows, questions about due dates, whether we know the sex yet (too early), if we need anything (we have everything), plans for the nursery (still working on it).