Epilogue
Aoife, One Month Later
“You’re sure she’s missing?” Lor said as we stood in front of a painting that had been slashed with some kind of weapon, the canvas torn to shreds.
Ambrose stood next to us, frowning, staring at the painting with a peculiar look in his eyes.
“How could Margaret be missing?” I asked. “She lives in these paintings. Are we sure she isn’t just hiding somewhere? Maybe someone came at her with a sword and scared her?”
“Why would someone do that?” Ambrose asked. “Margaret is the sweetest . . . person, erm, painting out there. She wouldn’t harm a fly. There would be no reason for someone to attack her painting.”
“I’m telling you,” Morton piped up from where he slithered along the floor, pacing back and forth, “she’s missing. We always meet in the library every morning, and this is now the fourth morning she hasn’t appeared. No one has seen her!”
Smoke puffed from the bookwyrm’s nostrils, which flared with irritation. He and Margaret had grown close over the years, and I could see the concern in his rigid body, hear it in his voice.
“That is strange,” Lor said. “Margaret is not one to hide.” He stroked his jaw. “But who would do this to her?”
Ambrose’s fists clenched. “Maybe one of the many visitors we’ve had over the last month? All these meetings and trade agreements and this new conclave meant to stand against the brotherhood.”
“But that wouldn’t make sense,” I argued, seeing the way my husband tensed at Ambrose’s words.
I grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze to remind him it was all going to be okay.
That we had a community to lean on, and we could trust that community.
“Every one of our kingdoms has magic that’s special, unique.
All the leaders want the same thing: to keep our magic open, free for everyone to use.
Coming to our home and attacking our magic would be as good as attacking us. ”
Lor’s shoulder’s relaxed at my words, and he shot me a look filled with so much love that my heart felt like it might explode.
“Oh, what are we going to do?” Morton’s voice trembled. “This is a disaster.”
“I’ve checked every painting in this castle.” Meera appeared around the corner at the end of the hallway, prowling toward us. “I can’t find her.”
Morton squeaked, wings fluttering.
“We will find her,” Lor said, voice firm.
“Find who?” Sir Arthur’s voice boomed in the hallway as he clinked and clanked, walking toward us.
Feck. Not this. Not right now.
“Is someone missing?” Sir Arthur asked. “I will find them!”
Ambrose sighed, looking up at the ceiling.
“We’ve got it handled, Sir Arthur,” Lor said. “We’ll find Margaret and everything will be okay.”
Sir Arthur stopped. “The Fair Lady Margaret? Ah yes, I bid her farewell not four days ago.”
All the breath was sucked from the room at that proclamation, and we all turned to stare at Sir Arthur, mouths agape.
It took a moment for me to recover enough that I could speak. “What does the mean, Sir Arthur? How did you bid her farewell exactly?”
He reached into his scabbard and pulled out a glowing golden sword. The sword Leena had used to cut through our barrier. The sword that we’d discovered could cut away magic.
Lor stiffened. “What did you do, Sir Arthur?”
“Oh, the fair maiden was feeling upset, you see,” Sir Arthur said. “Tired of being stuck in her paintings, never part of anything. So I told her I knew of a sword that could cut the magic of her painting, allow her to escape.”
Morton sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh no. Margaret’s dead. Sir Arthur cut her painting and killed her!”
“I did no such thing.” Sir Arthur swung his sword toward the bookwyrm. “I must duel you for my honor!”
“Nobody is dueling,” Lor said, rubbing his temples. “Is Margaret dead, Sir Arthur?”
“No!” Sir Arthur turned to face us. “She stepped right out of the painting, happy, free. Then she told me she had to find the tea house.”
“This is the most confusing conversation I’ve ever been a part of,” Meera mumbled.
“Tea house?” I echoed, my gaze lifting to the painting of a teal tea house sitting in a field of marigold flowers. “That tea house?” I pointed.
“The very one,” Sir Arthur said. “She said something about finding the tea house, finding herself. A journey. I told her it was an excellent idea and wished her luck.”
“But Margaret doesn’t know anything about being human,” Ambrose said. “She doesn’t know where she’s going, doesn’t know the dangers lurking about.”
Lor squeezed his eyes shut. “We’ll send guards after her.”
“Can we afford to?” I asked. “With so much happening right now? So much change?”
“I’ll go,” Ambrose said, and my gaze snapped to him.
He swallowed thickly, his golden eyes bouncing between me and Lor. Ah. He needed to get away, and this was his excuse.
“Ambrose, you’re on the council. We can send a guard—”
“Let him go,” I said to my oblivious husband, who was so in love with me he didn’t see any of Ambrose’s pain.
“I’ll go too,” Morton said. “I have to find her.”
“Okay, fine,” Ambrose said. “You can come.”
“I’ll come as well.” Sir Arthur stepped forward. “I’m the one who set her upon this journey.”
“No.” Ambrose held up a hand. “I’m drawing the line at Morton—”
“I insist,” Sir Arthur bellowed.
Ambrose squeezed his eyes shut. “Okay. Fine. That’s—fine. But no one else—”
“I’ll go as well,” Meera said. “I need a bloody break from these two.” Her tail pointed in our direction.
I smirked while Lor frowned.
“Sick of seeing you both in love and obsessed with each other,” Meera said. “I never thought I’d see the day when I wished you would start arguing again. If I walk in on one more office makeout session, I’m going to lose it.”
Ambrose pressed his lips together.
“Okay.” I held up my hand. “All of you can go, then. You’ll need to leave as soon as possible to find Margaret.” I nodded at Ambrose, and he nodded back.
“We’ll find her,” he said. “We’ll get her home safely.” He looked at his ragtag crew, and I felt a little sorry for him. This would not be an easy journey with the lot of them. “I suppose we need to make plans to leave immediately.”
They began walking down the hallway.
“I think we should portal,” Morton said.
“Then how will we find her?” Meera asked.
“I am not portaling!” Sir Arthur yelled. “I will ride on a horse like a proper knight!”
“This is going to be the longest journey of my life,” Ambrose said.
They disappeared around the corner as their voices echoed, slowly fading into the distance.
I turned to face Lor, who wrapped his arms around my waist. “I want that.” I pointed over his shoulder to the painting.
His brows pinched together. “You want to escape?”
Panic flashed in his eyes, and I had to cup his cheek and force him to look at me. “No, my love. I want to be free.”
He shook his head. “I’m still not understanding.”
I sighed. “I want you to cut away my magic with that sword, the same way Sir Arthur cut away Margaret’s magic, made her human.”
Lor’s mouth dropped open. “You wouldn’t be able to shift, to portal. You’d be mortal, Aoife.”
“Good,” I said. “I’ve never liked that magic. It’s the final chain holding me back. I want to grow old with you, Lorcan Wolfgang. To love you til the end of my days.”
He stared at me, his lips curving into a smile. “Okay,” he said simply.
I lifted a brow. “You’re not going to argue?”
“I’ll argue with you about many things, my warrior queen.” He lifted a finger and brushed the hair from my forehead. “But not this. Let’s go find Arthur before he embarks on this journey. We’ll get that sword, and we’ll make you mortal.”
He squeezed my hand as we turned to walk together through our castle, and I knew without a doubt that I was finally living life on my own terms. Finally happy. Finally free.