Epilogue
Anya Delemond
One month later
Uplifting fiddle music filled the Balcott town square. Smooth notes rose and fell like the wind dancing through Anya’s hair. She sat at a picnic table overflowing with flowers and circlets of braided hay.
She wore a simple blue overdress with a cream liner, and pockets, of course.
Her hair was tied low in a braid that fell between her shoulder blades.
It all felt so relaxed, freeing, and ordinary in the most extraordinary way.
No one treated her differently, even those who recognized who she’d been before.
Though she was still the same Anya Delemond, formally tendering her abdication had lifted a weight from her shoulders.
She was less anxious. She smiled more. Without the pressure of royal laurels, her relationship with her parents had improved too, albeit slowly.
There was a lot to say to them, both good and bad.
But they were willing to listen, and that was a start.
“Yours needs more pink,” Mabel declared, dropping a handful of rosy willowherbs in front of Anya.
“Does berry juice count?” Anya asked, wiggling her stained fingertips toward the girl.
“No!” Mabel squealed a laugh and scooted away.
“All right, all right. More pink.” Anya pinched the stem of a willowherb and knotted it around the circlet.
She stopped to watch Mabel work on her crown.
The girl hummed and swung her legs back and forth as she wove a few stems together, occasionally stopping to pop a blueberry into her mouth.
Even among the fiddle playing, the chatter, the clank of carnival games and chirping birds, the best sound was the unbridled laughter of the children running around, without a cough or a sniffle in sight.
The entire crew of the Lupus Star was there too, enjoying a well-deserved sabbatical from the seas.
Bernard played a fiddle duet with Roderick’s friend Millicent, both smiling ear to ear as they exchanged riffs of notes.
Annette danced with Ornella’s son while Ornella stood off to the side with Captain Verden speaking with serious expressions.
Anya watched the many Centarians in much finer health than she’d last seen them; cheeks softer and rounder, fingers no longer bony and willowed. They danced and sang with the rest of the crowds, making the most of every minute of their newfound lives.
She had hoped the Regent would have information about the Vampires, for their sake. But aside from rumored sightings in the southern part of Aquillas—on par with that of a gryphon with two heads or a Were breathing underwater—their archives had been as scarce as Valeria’s.
“What do you think?”
Anya looked up, finding Roderick flashing a fanged smile down at her—one pearly, one gold.
“It suits you.”
Mabel gasped. “You look like a pirate!”
“Maybe I am a pirate. Because I’m going to abduct a beautiful Princess!” Roderick did his best evil cackle as he swept Anya off her feet.
“Wait!” Mabel clambered onto the bench with a flower crown in hand. Roderick dipped Anya down, and Mabel carefully placed the circlet of pink and white flowers on Anya’s head.
“It’s for you!”
Anya smiled. “I love it, Mabel. Thank you.”
“Mabel! Time for dinner! You can’t just eat berries!”
Anya looked up, finding a Centarian woman waving to Mabel from the doorway of the Great Gryphon tavern.
“Okay, Mommy!”
The girl climbed down, then donned another flower crown before scampering toward her mother. Anya’s heart warmed as the woman picked Mabel up and hugged her tight.
“How does it feel?” Anya asked, bringing her fingers up to Roderick’s lips. His smile revealed the golden fang again.
“I’m not sure yet. We’ll have to try it out,” he said in a sultry voice. Anya’s cheeks heated. “But first, dinner.”
Birds chirped overhead, flitting between flowering dogwood branches as they reached the outskirts of town.
For the first time, Anya noticed the tiniest details.
The way the branches bounced when the little birds landed, the shake of the blossoms, the yellow pollen falling from the center of each flower, all things she’d never stopped to notice on Eteross.
Though truthfully, she’d hardly noticed anything in the quagmire of duties and diplomacy, while she constantly clawed for a bit of freedom. She wore blinders, a mask.
Until him.
She’d noticed every detail about him from the day they met—even though she thought she loathed him at the time.
He had a way of making her more aware of everything, of the simple act of being alive.
He made her ponder a life outside of her gilded cage, and perhaps that was what irked her about him back then.
He made her see everything she’d been missing.
“Behold, a picnic fit for a princess!” Roderick set her on her feet under a willow tree, where a picnic had been spread out on a patchwork blanket. There was a plate of roasted meat, rolls, cheeses, a bowl overflowing with mulberries—and most importantly, a golden pie that gave off a sheen of heat.
Still warm.
She looked up at him. “Mulberry?”
He nodded. “I had Millicent make it special for you. She took it out of the oven an hour ago.”
“Well, it was the least you could do after that baking debacle,” she teased.
They settled onto the blanket and began to eat. When their stomachs were full—of mostly pie, Anya had to admit—Roderick laid back with his head on her lap. She stroked his hair in lazy patterns, watching the festival in the distance until her eyes grew heavy.
Some time later, she stirred at a pair of familiar voices.
Ornella’s came first. “Captain, I do not think they want to be disturbed.”
“Nonsense. They’ll need time ta’ prepare, after all!” Captain Verden boomed.
Anya blinked the sleep from her eyes and sat up. The sun was just beginning to set, illuminating the petals overhead with a warm glow.
“I apologize, Your Highness,” Ornella said.
“Just Anya, please,” Anya insisted. “I’m not a princess anymore.”
“You are to me,” Roderick murmured. Anya’s cheeks flushed as he nuzzled into the softness of her belly. Ornella simply smiled.
Anya prodded Roderick’s shoulder. “Roderick, we have company.”
“Five more minutes…”
She lightly pinched his ear, causing him to straighten.
“Ah! Okay! I’m up!” He looked up. “Oh, Captain. Ornella.” He helped Anya to her feet. “I thought you were enjoying the festivities.”
“Oh we are. But we had somethin’ to ask ya first.” The captain looked at Ornella, then back at them, wringing his captain’s hat in his hands. “Look, Yer Highness, Yer Grace, there’s no easy way to put this…” the captain started, then hesitated.
Anya’s stomach bottomed out as she focused her canine eyes on the captain.
His expression was full of sorrow. Was he asking them to leave the Lupus Star?
Oh stars, she’d assumed he would be happy to have them both.
But maybe the ship was too full? Or perhaps he was worried a former princess would attract the attention of pirates, or—
“I’m retirin’.”
“Retiring?”
“What?”
The captain nodded. “This ol’ seadog’s seen a lot in his years.
Even things I didn’t think were real. But sailin’ to Aquillas…
boy, that just satisfied my sailor’s heart like nothin’ else.
Even the kelpie, the thing I’ve been chasin’ for years, I know they’re real now.
Ain’t that right, Ornella?” he added victoriously.
Ornella, who was still smiling softly, nodded. “Yes, sir. I was wrong indeed.”
A smile quirked up the captain’s mustache. “Ha! Yes you were.” He sighed and turned to Roderick and Anya. “So it’s time for me to return ta’ shore. I’ve got grandkids ta’ spoil.”
Anya turned to Ornella. “Does that mean you’ll be Captain now?” Ornella would be an incredible captain. Strong, calm, smart, experienced. Anya would be proud to follow her lead.
Ornella shook her head, chuckling to herself. “No. No, that is not for me. I have enough to do with two rambunctious pups on my hands.”
“Then who?” Roderick asked.
“You!” the captain boomed. “Both of you!”
“Us?” Anya gasped.
Roderick’s mouth gaped, but no words came out.
Captain Verden nodded. “You’ve proven yourselves to the ends of the earth and back again with hardly a scratch. Dedicated leaders, a knight, a navigator, and mates to boot. What more could a crew want?”
Roderick stammered. “Captain, I—we—how can we”—he shook his head—“surely there’s someone more qualified.”
The captain held up a hand. “I’ve always had one rule on the Lupus Star: there’s only room for the true and honest—and I’ve hardly seen a finer example than the two o’ you.”
With a holey smile, he held out his navy tricorn captain’s hat to Anya.
She gently took it in her claws, staring in disbelief between it and Roderick.
He was offering more than a title, more than a ship.
He was offering a lifetime of adventure, of choice, of freedom—of pack and home and love, love, love, so much love.
And when she looked into Roderick’s eyes, she could see it all.
“If ya’ need a moment, we can go,” the captain started, pointing a thumb back toward town.
Anya questioned Roderick with a quick brow lift and a knowing smile.
He gave her a peck on the cheek, then flipped the hat onto her head with a flourish.
“We’ll do it!” they answered in unison.
“Terrific!” the captain boomed. “We’ll work out the rest o’ the details tomorrow so you lovebirds can celebrate.”
As they turned to leave, Roderick pulled her flush against him. Their united breaths were fast, happy, eager and light, and so, so ready for the future that awaited them.
Their lips had almost met when Ornella added, “Before I forget”—they both turned their heads—“there is only the one hat.”
As she strolled away, Roderick grinned at Anya with a devious glint in his eye.
And those fangs.
Those damned fangs.
There was a scheme behind them.
“I’ll be taking that,” he said, reaching for the hat.
Anya jumped back and drew her cutlass.
“You’ll have to spar me for it.”
“With pleasure.”