Epilogue III
He was released under supervision. No assignments for three months. Mandatory therapy sessions with Dr. Starsbury once a week. And the worst punishment of all: forty-eight hours of service in the Solbourne Nursery.
Sloane had never been happier.
For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel the urge to hunt. He didn’t want to be on assignment. He didn’t even mind nursery duty, especially now.
“You’re sure they asked for me?”
“Affirmative,” he answered for the third time. “The captain requested your presence at their insistence.”
Cecilia picked at the purple tweed skirt she’d donned for the meeting. Neither of them had been informed about the subject of the meeting, but only one of them was worried about it.
Whatever happened, he was absolutely certain his doe would handle herself better than just about anyone else could.
Sloane rested one hand on her thigh as he pulled through the Treasure Island checkpoint. He’d learned that she enjoyed and expected his touch often, which was so astonishing he still found himself hesitating sometimes.
He’d seen the captain and Atria interact like that — with small touches and twined fingers and a whisper of lips on cheeks or hair or knuckles. It just never occurred to him that anyone would want those things from him. Especially if they knew who and what he was.
But Cecilia did.
Even after his release from Patrol custody, a large part of him expected her to take back her acceptance.
When the crisis died down, it made sense for her perspective to change.
He waited for it to hit after their return to the barracks.
He waited for it the next morning. He waited for it the week after, and then the week after that.
He waited, but it didn’t come.
If anything, Cecilia became more comfortable with him.
Despite the fact that he wasn’t allowed to leave the barracks except for official business, she found ways for them to continue what they started in the Battery.
Eventually they would be allowed to return to what she called their home, but until then they’d been moved into a larger room in the barracks, which Cecilia had decorated with gusto.
The barracks had never felt warm until her.
They did date night in front of the television he moved into his room and went for picnics around Stern Grove.
She required his presence when she cooked, claiming it was important to hear about each other’s days during that specific activity.
When he came into their room after a brutal training session, it smelled like sweet strawberries and sex and her.
It was a life unlike anything he would’ve dared dream of.
Walking beside her, holding her matching purple bag, to guide her up to the sovereign’s office, was the first moment in his life he felt proud. His consort, as beautiful and fierce as she was, stood tall beside him even when the other elves in the lobby gave him a wide berth.
And when she reached for his hand, seeking comfort, as they stood before the sovereign’s door… it was a gift he knew he didn’t deserve.
“This isn’t a prank, right?” she whispered as they waited for the door to open.
“It’s unlikely,” he answered. “But not impossible.”
A sharp elbow hit his side. Sloane flinched dramatically, as he’d been instructed to do in such situations. Cecilia rolled her eyes, but her smile was as wide and beautiful as it ever was.
He loved that look. It meant she found him charming.
She also thought he was funny. And cute. And gentle. And sweet. All the things Fracture was beaten and tortured into believing they couldn’t be, she knew for certain that he was.
The sovereign’s smooth voice came through the heavy wood door. “Come in.”
Cecilia paled. Giving him a wide-eyed, panicked look, she whispered in a high-pitched voice, “Sloane, we could still run, right? Like grab a car and book it? No one thinks you kidnapped me anymore. It’d be totally fine.”
“We could, but we shouldn’t.”
“Why?” she squeaked.
“Because you’re brave.” He tilted his helmeted head to one side. “And Dahlia said we’re not allowed to cause another news-worthy incident or she’ll kill us both.”
“Damn her.” Cecilia straightened her matching tweed jacket with her free hand. Swallowing nervously, she whispered, “Okay. Okay.”
Giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze, he reluctantly released them to open the door for her. He stepped aside, allowing her to enter first.
He hadn’t visited the office many times in his career, but it was familiar nonetheless.
A wall of glass backed the massive twin desks at the far end of the bookshelf-lined room.
Light poured in behind the sovereign couple, who watched their guests enter with keen eyes.
The captain sat in a leather chair before them, incongruously casual in his usual jeans, beaten jacket, and boots.
And then there was his consort, who stood in the center of the luxurious office dressed in a pastel miniskirt and jacket, her white boots shining and her nail polish glittering and so nervous he could practically feel it vibrating the air.
She outshone every fucking one of them.
Sloane stepped confidently into the room, her purse held in one hand and his other automatically falling to the small of her back. He didn’t snap into the rigid military stance he’d been trained to do since he was six. He didn’t stand before his sovereigns as a soldier.
He stood before them as Cecilia Warren’s proud mate.
The captain rose. Gesturing to Cecilia and the sovereigns, he announced, “Cecilia, meet the sovereigns. Sovereigns, this is Cecilia Warren, Sloane’s consort.”
Theodore leaned back in his chair. Dark eyes narrowing, he drawled, “So this is the famous Cecilia.”
“Um…” Cecilia sucked in a quick breath. He could almost see her putting on her shiny pink armor when she summoned a megawatt smile. In a voice he could only describe as chipper, she said, “It’s, like, super nice to meet you.”
Margot Goode arched her copper-colored eyebrows. “Is it true you punched Gibson?”
Cecilia’s smile flickered for just a heartbeat before she answered in that sweet, fake voice, “What kind of arrant would punch an elf, ma’am? That’d be crazy.”
Sloane’s gaze flicked to the captain, who’d tipped his head back to look at the ceiling.
To his credit, the orc had taken a lot in stride — helped significantly by Atria’s heavy advocacy.
Still, Cecilia’s sudden fame amongst the ranks of Patrol and her subsequent hero worship within Fracture seemed to vex him on an existential level.
But for as exasperated as he was, Kazimier liked Cecilia. He was almost certain of it.
Sloane had discovered them deep in discussion about “compassionate positive incentives” and “no bullshit de-escalation techniques” more than once.
Cecilia took the captain’s taciturn nature in stride, just as she took everything else.
It was impossible to not respect a woman who held herself so confidently in a room full of them and still managed to sparkle.
Theodore took a long look at the captain’s exasperated expression and huffed. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Cecilia.”
“That’s kind of terrifying,” she replied. “You know that, right? You’ve got to know that.”
Margot covered her mouth, muffling a laugh. “She’s right.”
Theodore glanced sidelong at his consort. A dimple popped in his cheek when a slow smile crossed his face. “Fair enough. My apologies. I meant that I don’t think I’ve ever heard an arrant’s name whispered with so much awe in the halls of my tower. I like it.”
“You do?”
“We do,” Margot answered for him. “And we’d like to offer you a job.”
Cecilia sent Sloane a frantic look. “Huh?”
Theodore rested his forearms on the desk.
“Listen, with the… events of the past few weeks and the psychological assessment we’ve received from Dr. Starsbury, we — Captain Le Roy, my wife, and myself — have come to believe that your presence can be a stabilizing force within Fracture.
You’re trained. You’re compassionate. More importantly, you’re fearless.
I don’t think there’s a member of Patrol in San Francisco who hasn’t heard the story of the arrant who fought four elves with her bare hands to get back to her mate. ”
Sloane had to breathe deeply to lower his heart rate. He didn’t want the bio alerts to go off in his helmet and make him miss this moment. If he could’ve, he would’ve engrained it into his memory forever. Every single word.
Cecilia gave the sovereigns and the captain a wide-eyed look of confusion. “You… want me to work for Fracture?”
“No,” Margot answered.
Kazimier tucked a hand in his pocket and clarified, “We want you to stay.”
Margot folded her hands on top of her live edge desk. Offering Cecilia a warm smile, she said, “We personally reviewed your teaching application and passed it along to the Solbourne Nursery. If you’re willing, the headmistress would like to interview you for a position.”
“At the elvish nursery?” Cecilia blinked fast. “But… why? Don’t only elves—”
“Nothing should be only elves,” Theodore cut in.
“And it would be an honor to have you teach our young. We believe it would benefit everyone involved, and selfishly, we also think it will keep you close. We want to do everything we can to make your life with Fracture — and Sloane — a good one. For all our sakes.”
“I…” She took a moment to gather herself. Looking down at the tips of her shiny boots, she pressed her lips together in a way he recognized meant she was working through something tricky. “That’s… very kind, Sovereigns.”
Margot gave Cecilia a searching look. “But?”
His consort glanced up from her boots. Her dark eyes glittered fiercely when she bit out, “No offense, but I don’t need incentives to stay with Sloane or Fracture.
I don’t want special treatment, like they’re some sort of burden you need to compensate for.
They’re not. They’re people who deserve care.
And friends. And love that isn’t conditional. Respectfully.”
The captain leaned his hip against the edge of Theodore’s desk.
Crossing his bulky arms over his chest, he grunted, “And that’s why you’re perfect for the job, Cece.
Not because you deserve special treatment but because you are the best fucking fit for the first non-elvish teacher to work in the nursery. ”
“Our kids need you,” Theodore pressed.
Margot tilted her head toward her husband. “We need you, Cece. We’d consider it a great favor if you’d put yourself on the line for us like this.”
“You really don’t pull punches, huh?” Cecilia dryly noted.
Margot wrinkled her pert nose. “Not really our style, I’m afraid.”
“Yeah, well, mine either,” she sighed. “I… will do the interview. But I’m serious about special treatment. If the headmistress doesn’t think I’m a good fit—”
“Then you won’t get the job,” Theodore finished for her. “We understand, and believe me, I know you’re serious.”
Cecilia nodded. “Good. Thank you. And… thank you, I guess.”
“You’re welcome.” Margot lifted her chin toward the door. “You can escape now. We won’t hold it against you.”
Cecilia tried hard not to look too relieved, but it came through loud and clear. Sloane’s smile spread into a grin as he moved to guide her back out the door.
Ushering her out, he was stopped from following her by Theodore’s low voice.
“Fortuner.”
Sloane turned. “Yes, sir?”
The sovereign gave him a long look. The hair stood up on the back of Sloane’s neck when the full weight of the sovereigns’ combined authority pressed down on him. They watched him quietly, perfectly in sync, with the same solemn expressions — as if they were silently weighing his worth.
It was Margot who broke the heavy quiet. In her soft, terrifying healer’s voice, she informed him, “You’re the example, Sloane. Act like it.”
He brushed his fingers down Cecilia’s arm to blindly find her waiting fingers. “Yes, madam,” he replied. “I will.”
“You will,” Cecilia whispered from the doorway. “I know it.”
Accepting the sovereigns’ nods, he followed his consort out the door — and anywhere she chose to lead him.
END