Epilogue In Which the East Wind Hosts a Family Re
THERE WERE SOME WORDS EURUS loathed more than anything.
The first was moist. Whoever conceived of the term should be eradicated—immediately. The grating whine pairing its articulation, the awkward shape it made of one’s mouth. Truly, an affront to the lexicon.
The second was ointment. As an adolescent, he had used it to coat the burns that had ravaged his body, and to this day, he could not hear the word without returning to the dim, windowless room where his father had tortured him.
But the two words he despised most in the realm, the ones that dried out his throat and sent him dripping in a cold sweat?
Family reunion.
It was the reason why Eurus was seriously—definitely?—considering lighting himself on fire. That, or tossing himself off the nearest cliff, wings be damned. Mortal or not, it would be far less agonizing than sitting through an evening meal with his siblings and their respective families.
But alas, he had invited them all, at his wife’s behest. Boreas and Wren, traveling from the Gray. Zephyrus and Brielle, to arrive from Carterhaugh. Notus and Sarai, journeying from Ammara. All four brothers, the former Anemoi and their wives, gathered in one place.
Eurus felt faint. And he never felt faint.
Hour after hour, he’d paced the sitting room, hands balled into fists.
He fully expected to wear a trench into the floor.
Min wouldn’t appreciate that, considering the time they’d spent restoring the estate to its former glory.
The grounds, once unkempt, had been properly groomed, hedges clipped and lawn trimmed.
They’d patched the roof, refinished the floors, repainted half the rooms, tackling each project as it came.
Following the defeat of Prince Balior six months before, they had agreed to split their time between St. Laurent and his manor.
Summer and autumn in Marles for the growing season and subsequent harvest. Winter and spring on their island, where it was restful.
It had taken the villagers time to grow used to the sight of a winged man, but Eurus didn’t venture into town often, except to wander the market with Min. And that’s exactly how he liked it.
His wife, on the other hand, was thriving since having taken over the apothecary full time.
Some villagers were disappointed to learn Lady Clarisse’s beauty teas had been discontinued, but they were in the minority.
Lady Clarisse’s Apothecary—renamed Nan’s Tinctures & Teas—was shifting its focus onto healing.
As an added bonus, Min had even begun to make friends with a few herbalists in town.
It warmed Eurus’ heart to watch his bird’s wings unfurl.
If anyone deserved the world, it was Min.
Which was why, as soon as they’d moved into the estate, he’d destroyed the old broom cupboard where she had slept for so many years.
The basement cells, too, were demolished, every square of blood-soaked soil buried in fresh earth.
The former he’d replaced with an elegant, hand-carved bookshelf, which housed Min’s herbology books.
The latter was transformed into a root cellar.
After erasing all signs of Lady Clarisse from the property, Eurus had commissioned a painting of Min’s grandmother, which now hung over the sitting room fireplace.
As he peered through the window, a knock sounded at the front door.
“Are they here?” Min bounded down the stairs, flushed and bright-eyed.
“Unfortunately, yes.” Still, he brushed a kiss across Min’s cheek as she rolled her eyes, all too aware of his distaste for, well, everyone.
Today, as with all days, his lovely wife was dressed in flowing trousers and a lacey blouse, her black hair braided back from her face. With a frown, he traced the raised scar beneath her left eye, where her mother had attacked her. It had healed well.
As though sensing where his thoughts had gone, Min’s expression softened. “Are you ready?”
“No.”
She huffed, crossed her arms. Her irritation was adorable—and alluring.
Gathering her close, Eurus dipped his mouth to the curve of her warm, bare neck. Min squirmed, then drew taut with a soft gasp of air.
“What if we pretend no one is home?” he whispered into her ear. “We’ll return to the bedroom, explore each other’s bodies…” He trailed off suggestively, skimming her backside with the flat of his palm.
Min shivered and pressed closer. “We can’t! I mean, we could, theoretically, but… no! What am I saying? Your family is here. They came all this way.” She bit back a moan. “We can’t ignore them.”
“Sure we can.”
“No,” she clipped out, pulling away and adjusting her blouse. “We can’t.” Her cheeks pinkened, and the bob of her throat compelled him.
Once more, he caught his bird, diving into the honeyed pliancy of her lips, pulling from her throat a sweet sound of need before easing back.
Min lifted a hand to his scarred cheek, peering at him with a depth of understanding that frightened him even as it warmed him. “I’m here,” she murmured. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
A second knock. He didn’t move.
“Eurus, you need to open the door.”
Why? The reunion was Min’s idea. He’d wanted nothing to do with it. Zephyrus, Notus, Boreas—they had their respective realms, their separate lives. He didn’t understand why quality time with family was so important.
With an internal sigh of woe, he opened the door.
Notus, dressed in an amber robe and black head scarf, dipped his chin in greeting.
He was accompanied by a striking woman with equally brown skin, her linen dress humble to all outward appearances, though the exceptional tailoring and exquisite embroidery along the sleeves suggested quality.
As it was, Princess Sarai Al-Khatib of Ammara could have made even a sack of grain look fashionable.
Leaning forward, the former South Wind brushed a kiss across his sister-in-law’s cheek. “Min. Thank you for inviting us.” He then turned toward Eurus, gaze wary. “Brother.”
“Notus,” Eurus replied gruffly.
They stared at one another awkwardly until Min stepped forward to take Sarai’s left hand. It was inked by an ornate tattoo—twin to Notus’. “Lovely to meet you, Sarai,” she said, a twinkle in her dark eyes. “Please, come in. How was your journey?”
“It was quite nice, actually,” Sarai said as she wiped her feet politely on the welcome mat. Noting the row of shoes near the door, she toed off her slippers, and her husband followed suit. It was thoughtful of them, Eurus admitted with grudging appreciation.
“Oh, my. This is lovely. I assume the decor is your doing,” Sarai said to Min while simultaneously tossing Eurus a look of outward scorn. Not that he could blame her. After all, he had placed a curse on her. She had every right to be angry.
“Not all of it,” Min admitted, teeth worrying her lower lip in shyness. “My grandmother decorated most of what you see.”
“Well, your grandmother has excellent taste. I absolute adore vintage.” One of the oil paintings hanging in the foyer caught her eye. “We stopped at a quaint town along the border. They had the most delicious bread I’ve eaten in my life.”
A half-turn, and Sarai spotted the large, gleaming piano overwhelming the center of the sunroom. Already, she was moving toward it, fingertips fluttering across the ivory keys. “Do you play?”
A second knock drowned out his wife’s response. Eurus’ pulse tripped further yet, as if trying to escape his too-tight skin.
As soon as he opened the front door, a curly-haired explosion caught him around the waist and hefted him into the air. “Brother!”
Zephyrus, dressed in simple trousers and an emerald tunic, smelled of sunlight and sweet grass. He buried his face in Eurus’ chest with a happy sigh.
“Put me down,” Eurus growled.
“Say please.”
Eurus yanked at his brother’s hair until he was lowered back onto the ground. Brow quirked, Zephyrus arranged his curls into place. “Not one for affection, are you?”
Eurus failed to respond as a cooling, seaside breeze tugged at the hem of his shirt. For a moment, he missed his winds so deeply he ached.
“Behave,” the woman at Zephyrus’ side snapped. Her cotton dress, belted at the waist, hugged her every solid muscle and generous curve. She had a blacksmith’s arms.
His brother ducked his head, properly abashed. “Yes, dear.” Yet he gazed at her adoringly. “This is my wife, Brielle.”
Min gaped at the ginger-haired woman. “It’s you!”
Brielle reared back in confusion, then froze. “It’s you. What are you doing here? I thought…” Her mouth fell open. “The man you were running from. That wasn’t…”
Min nodded, fighting a smile. “It was.”
After toeing off their shoes, Zephyrus and Brielle ambled into the sitting room, where Min offered refreshments.
Meanwhile, Eurus loitered in the foyer, watching from a distance as his brothers and their wives surrounded his wife.
Something softened in him at the sight. Perhaps this reunion would not be so bad, knowing it filled Min’s heart with the joy of togetherness.
Such tender feelings dissipated as, for the third time, there came a knock at the door.
Internally, Eurus groaned. He considered withdrawing to his bedroom and refusing to emerge until sunrise. Knowing how much this meant to Min, however, he went to greet their newest arrivals.
Boreas, previously known as the North Wind, accompanied his family on the stoop. A black coat encased his shoulders, and eyes the fair shade of frost peered out from a narrow, raw-boned face.
His wife, Wren, bounced a toddler on her hip.
She wore a sunny dress, her hair pulled into a messy tail.
Their son, perhaps a few years older, clung to his father’s trouser leg.
With his dark features, he bore a similar coloring to his mother.
The youngest, a girl, shared the light eyes and skin of her father.
“Eurus,” his eldest brother clipped out.
“Boreas,” he responded through a stiff upper lip.