Epilogue
CAELAN
Ihave decided that reaching for my magic was one of the worst pieces of advice Sera had ever given me.
It wasn’t because I couldn’t control it.
It turned out that I had fantastic control over it, which was a problem in itself.
Because now I was expected by my kingdom to wield it.
As if they had forgotten that just a couple of months ago, my magic nearly wiped out the kingdom.
The courtyard had just finished renovations last week.
According to Magistrate Kaelric, it was in Twilight’s best interest that their ruler learn how to make use of his power. Which was not wrong. It would provide significant benefits to the kingdom. But that implied effort, and I was honestly tired of putting effort into anything for a while.
So I hid in the library on most days after court had ended and the council had turned their backs long enough for me to escape from sight.
I had been here for three hours. Possibly four. It was hard to track time when you were arguing with dead scholars.
“That is not a loophole. That is a dignified defeat,” I muttered as I turned another page.
With a long exhale, I closed the tome. My stack of discarded tomes had reached a height that suggested admirable determination or a slow descent into madness.
The floor around me was littered with more tomes that probably should not be on the ground but were.
There were scrolls, rolled up maps, and an opened volume of a doctrine containing laws against humans that I had stepped on twice out of spite.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and leaned back against the chair.
There had to be a way. I refused to believe that there wasn’t.
When I opened my eyes, a ladder in the far right corner caught my eye. I inhaled sharply and tapped the table. Now was not the time.
A faint scrape sounded at the window to my left.
I did not look up.
“There are doors,” I said.
The glass creaked as the window pushed open.
“Doors are beneath me,” Xander said.
I turned and glanced at him.
He sat with one boot planted on the ledge, the other dangling into the room. Leaning against the frame as if he wasn’t a breeze away from plummeting to his death.
“They wouldn’t be if you got off my roof.” I turned back and grabbed another tome from the table.
I thumbed through a couple of pages. This tome was older. Old enough that even the magic holding the pages together was worn.
Xander dropped onto the stone floor and shut the window behind him with a click.
“You’re really going to find a way to drag her back to court?” he said from behind me.
“A way to offer her a choice,” I said. “It’s up to her if she wants to come back.”
I glanced at him again, but something caught my eye enough to make me turn fully.
Xander’s arm was bandaged, hanging at his side at an angle that suggested it was bothering him.
“Who,” I asked pleasantly, “had the audacity?”
He followed my gaze and shrugged. “Got it in Thalvarn.”
I felt the need to ask for details but refused to acknowledge the fact that I cared in the slightest.
“I’m not compensating,” I said instead. Then glanced down at his muddied boots. “You’re tracking dirt onto a first edition war ledger.”
His chin dipped low. “I’m giving it character. Why is it even on the floor?” He picked it up and rolled it before tossing it onto the table.
“Did you complete the task I gave you?” I asked, turning another page.
He sat in the chair across from me and propped his boots onto the table. Mud smeared the surface.
My eyes lifted to his boots.
“It was nearly impossible to find, but I traced her parents to a mining town west of Thalvarn called Iron Row. Her father died in a mining accident. Mother died from fever shortly after. She would’ve been three or four by then.
“ He met my eyes, then lowered his boots like a clever man who liked to remain alive and paid.
“But both were human. No magic. No relatives that exist or ones that are traceable, at least.”
I lowered the tome. “You’re sure?”
He nodded once, then studied me for a moment. “I’ve known Sera most of her life. She was young enough that she had no memories of her parents, but I can assure you she’s human.”
Humans are not resilient. Especially not a child.
Sera had survived four winters on her own before the Obsidian Hand found her.
That shouldn’t have been possible unless someone had been caring for her.
Which there hadn’t been. And when she survived Mirror Lake, I started to suspect.
A wound like that, with the amount of blood she lost, she should’ve been dead when we found her.
I exhaled. “Keep looking.”
“Are you trying to convince yourself she’s fae?” Xander asked.
“No.”
She wasn’t fae. That much I knew. I would have recognized it if she were.
“Then what do you think she is?”
“I don’t know.”
Silence stretched between us as we both considered what Sera could be.
“I’m going to be unavailable for some time.” He looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “Think of it as a respite.”
“I didn’t give you permission,” I said without looking at him.
“I wasn’t asking.”
The corner of my lip lifted.
He stood and stretched loudly. “Good luck with… whatever you’re looking for.” Then moved toward the window.
“Use the door,” I said.
His steps stopped, sighed dramatically, and made for the door.
I didn’t watch him go and grabbed another tome that was even older than the last. The title had been half-eaten by time. However, enough words were present to suggest it contained old rituals or laws that were no longer practiced.
I thumbed through the pages carefully, skimming their content. Blood compacts, ceremonial rites that were certainly illegal in this time and age. Half of which contained too much chanting that I would consider banning for that reason alone.
Then something caught my eye.
My fingers stilled, and I straightened.
A passage about early court formation. Then a mention of a ritual for something called a Victor of Three. A crowning ritual that I had never heard of.
Dueling custom. Strength demonstration. Magical affinity. The champion is granted a title and all the fae rights that come with it.
But it was the annotations that caught my eye. Clear underlines accompanied the writing underneath it.
Humans permitted.
A slow smile curved my mouth. Then a chuckled escaped without my permission.
Finally. A loophole disguised as tradition.
Somewhere outside these walls, Sera was in her cottage. Likely making the stew she insisted was the best thing I’d ever try. She was likely exercising that right hand of hers, which made me want to burn Winter each time I thought about it.
I turned another page.
Tomorrow, the kingdom would hear about a new competition.
It was time to plan.