Epilogue
La Scala – Milan
The chandeliers of La Scala glittered like stars. I leaned back in my velvet seat, legs crossed, gown draped like smoke over my skin—midnight silk stitched with silver beadwork that shimmered with every breath. My gloves reached my elbows. My lips were the color of old wine.
Emrys looked like sin in a tuxedo, his silver cufflinks gleaming like the moons of some long-lost world. All around us, heads turned.
I sipped on my champagne. “They’re staring. It’s rude.”
“They’ve never seen a goddess before,” he said, eyes fixed on me. “Let them stare. Did I tell you I love the sparkle of stolen diamonds on you?”
“The Duskmere Manor gifted them to me,” I said. “Did I tell you I love the dress you ordered for me?”
His lip curled. “With age, you develop a taste for... timeless pieces.” He kissed my knuckles.
I hid my smile behind the fan.
The music swelled. The curtain rose.
And there she was.
Camille, bathed in violet light, dressed in stars and shadow, her voice slicing through the hush like a blade. The Queen of the Night in all her terrifying glory.
From the box next to us, Orren let out a long, low whistle.
“This woman is a walking scandal,” he said, wide-eyed as Camille belted her opening aria. “I swear she’s adding high notes just to flirt with me.”
“She’s definitely glaring directly at you,” I said. “Or maybe at the champagne flute you’re holding.”
“That’s because I enchanted it,” he whispered. “I’m the only man in this building drinking basil and blood orange.”
I glanced down to the stage, where Camille’s cape billowed like storm clouds.
Not long ago, I’d snuck into the Royal Opera with a stolen ticket.
Now?
Now I was one of the Five—if you counted the tiny bat hiding in Orren’s top hat.
Not hidden. Not hunted. Seen.
Emrys’s hand slid over mine, warm and solid.
“You’re glowing,” he murmured. “Do you want me to take credit, or shall we blame the ley line magic?”
“I’m trying to listen,” I said sweetly. “Your voice is distracting.”
He leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “I have a few other things that might distract you later.”
Orren groaned. “Gods, I could hear you from here.”
“Me too!” Nibble squeaked from the seat beside him.
“Nibble, you little rascal! Now I know where all my cheese disappeared to,” Orren said.
“Hey, Daphne, pass me some of those tiny tomatoes. I’ll starve before this ends,” the bat demanded, and I passed him the plate.
Camille’s final note soared across the golden hall like a spell. The crowd sat stunned for a moment before erupting in applause.
I smiled.
We had buried monsters beneath the sand.
Conquered the demons inside us.
Rewritten fate.
Now, we were here—draped in silk and starlight, laughing, loving, and very much alive.
And this... this was only the overture.
The End.
Thank you for staying with Daphne during her darkest moments.