Epilogue
I lean against the window frame, watching the anxious faces below on the first day of the new term at Serpentine Academy.
Eight months ago, I was fighting for my life against a cannibalistic headmistress in the Great Hall.
Now I’m on the council, helping shape magical education policy, and sharing my bed with four men who once couldn’t stand each other.
Life is weird. Good weird, but definitely weird.
My familiar leaps onto the windowsill beside me, croaking loudly.
“Morning to you too, Hank,” I say.
Hank’s terrarium sits empty across the room. He’s got full run of our suite now, though the guys weren’t thrilled about it at first. Lucien nearly had an aneurysm when he found Hank nestled in his favorite sweater. But they’ve adjusted. We all have.
Below, a small girl with purple hair struggles with an oversized trunk, her face straining with the effort.
I’m about to head down to help when a familiar figure appears beside her.
Drake. His blue eyes crinkle as he says something that makes her laugh, then effortlessly lifts her trunk and guides her toward the dormitories.
Still can’t believe he’s fully human again—flesh and blood and mind-bogglingly attractive.
No longer trapped between worlds or fading in and out of existence.
“He’s adjusting well,” comes a deep voice from behind me.
I turn to find Ash leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking unfairly good in a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up.
“Yeah, he is.”
“You’re staring,” Ash points out, moving to stand beside me at the window.
“So are you.”
He doesn’t deny it, just slides an arm around my waist, pulling me against him. We watch as Drake helps another student, a nervous-looking boy whose trunk has burst open, spilling clothes everywhere.
“Still can’t believe they made him an instructor,” Ash says.
“Why not? He’s lived through most of the 20th century’s magical history firsthand. Pretty perfect for History of Modern Magic.”
“You’re going to be late.” He kisses the top of my head.
Right. The council meeting. The Serpentine Academy Council—twelve members representing the school community, democratically elected.
It still sounds surreal, even eight months in.
Victoria Wickersly nearly had a stroke when the votes were counted, but to her credit, she’s adapted to the new system with surprising grace.
Or at least, with minimal death threats.
“I’m prepared,” I assure him, though the stack of notes on my desk suggests otherwise.
Ash raises an eyebrow. “Really? So you’ve read through the proposals for the new protective ward system? And the revised curriculum for elemental magic practitioners? And Thorne’s seventeen-page manifesto on food service reforms?”
“Seventeen pages? About the food?”
“Apparently, the lack of carb-free options constitutes a human rights violation.” His lips twitch. “Her words, not mine.”
I groan, resting my forehead against his chest. “Why did I let myself get elected to this thing?”
“Because you’re the only witch powerful enough to stand up to Victoria when she tries to take over, again.” His hand slides up my back, warm and reassuring. “And because you actually give a damn about making this place better.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I pull away reluctantly. “I should probably at least skim Thorne’s manifesto before the meeting.”
“Probably.” Ash doesn’t let me go, instead tilting my chin up for a kiss that starts gentle but quickly turns heated.
“Mmm, this isn’t helping me prepare,” I murmur against his lips.
“No?” His hand slides lower, cupping my ass. “I find it very motivating.”
A throat clears from the doorway, and we break apart to find Lucien watching us, one eyebrow raised.
“The council meeting begins in fifty-seven minutes,” he says. “And Rose has yet to review the agenda.”
“I was just telling her that,” Ash says, not looking remotely guilty.
“Yes, I can see how helpful your approach was.” Lucien steps into the room.
Lucien is always worrying about me. Some things never change. Like the way my heart still skips when he looks at me with those intense eyes, or how he always, always takes care when I'm not taking care of myself.
“I’m going,” I say, extracting myself from Ash’s arms. “Both of you can stop with the disappointed dad routine.”
“If either of us reminded you of your father, we would have serious concerns about your psychological well-being,” Lucien says dryly.
“Well, I never knew my father, so analyze that.” I grab my notes from the desk, pausing to kiss Lucien on my way past. He catches my wrist, holding me in place for a moment longer than necessary.
“Thorne is planning to ambush you about the proposed curfew changes,” he warns. “She has a graph.”
“Graphs? Yikes.” I tilt my neck back to look at the ceiling for a moment. “Thanks for the heads up.”
He nods, releases me, and I head down the corridor.
My office door is ajar when I reach it, and I’m not surprised to find Soren lounging in my chair, feet propped on my desk, thumbing through my notes.
“Make yourself comfortable,” I say, pushing his feet off.
“Always do.” He grins up at me. “Your margin notes are hilarious, by the way. Especially your thoughts on Victoria’s proposal to reinstate mandatory etiquette classes.”
“I was being succinct.”
“Fuck no is certainly succinct.” He stands, stretching. “Very eloquent.”
“Did you need something, Soren?”
Soren pouts. “Can’t a professor visit his favorite girl without an agenda?”
“You always have an agenda.”
“True.” He moves closer, his hand brushing mine. “But sometimes my agenda simply involves seeing you.”
Eight months, and he can still make me blush with a single touch.
“Soren.”
“Fine, fine.” He holds up his hands in surrender.
Soren steals a quick kiss before heading for the door. “Oh, and Drake wanted me to remind you about dinner tonight. Some kind of celebration for the first day of term.”
“I remember.” I haven’t forgotten. How could I? It’s the first time in a week that all five of us will be in the same room for more than a quick breakfast or late-night collapse into bed.
Our schedules have been busy and all over the place with the new term preparations.
Drake’s been developing his curriculum, Ash overseeing the installation of new protective wards, Lucien coordinating about security, and Soren doing whatever Soren does when he’s not teaching or tempting me away from my responsibilities.
Meanwhile, I’ve been stuck in meeting after meeting with the council, trying to make sure this term goes smoothly for everyone.
I settle at my desk, finally focusing on my notes for the meeting.
Thorne’s seventeen-page cafeteria manifesto is actually eighteen pages, with an appendix listing every known food allergy among the student body.
It’s meticulously researched, professionally formatted, and makes several compelling points about inclusive dining options. I hate that I’m impressed.
My relationship with Thorne has been the biggest surprise of the last eight months.
We’re not friends exactly, but we’re not enemies anymore either.
I guess I’d call us reluctant allies. Two witches who want different things for very different reasons, but who’ve discovered we can accomplish more by working together than by undermining each other.
She’s still a privileged, entitled brat. But she’s also whip-smart, uncompromising when she believes she’s right, and genuinely committed to making the academy better. At least, her version of better, which involves a lot more luxury amenities.
As I head to the meeting, I think about how much has changed. Eight months ago, I was just trying to survive this place, to find a way to control my own magic without being drained or devoured. Now I’m helping rebuild it from the ground up, creating something that might actually deserve to exist.
Hank hops along beside me in the corridor, keeping pace. My loyal familiar, who apparently enjoys council politics more than your average frog.
“Rose! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. We need to talk about the dining hall.”
I sigh, but I'm smiling, too. “Sure thing, Thorne.”
The night I got the invitation to Serpentine Academy, I could never have imagined how my life would change. But as I stand here now, I know I'm where I've always been meant to be.