Epilogue
AGNES
Graham gave me one week.
One week to arrange an entire wedding.
I was tempted to almost drown him all over again, except I couldn’t blame him. He said he’d waited too long and refused to wait a second longer. Willow had worked overtime on my dress.
“Just hold still. Damn it, Agnes.” Willow breathed through a mouthful of pins. How she could swear around those was a talent in its own right.
“It’s hard for me to stand still,” I complained. “Why can’t we just do something simple?”
“Listen, if you had any idea what I’d really like to do for you, you’d have a meltdown on the spot.
This is simple.” Willow tucked a few more pins in the cloth and then stood back to survey her work.
“And you know what? Simple is the right choice for you. Too much fluff would take away from your beauty.”
“Och, don’t say—”
“Agnes. Look at yourself.”
I turned to look in the mirror and my words fell away.
She’d gone for a softly curved neckline that dropped to my shoulders, with delicate lace sleeves.
The gown nipped in at the waist, and then flowed softly to my feet, in the slightest hint of a poofy princess skirt, without going full princess.
It was elegant and ethereal, and made me feel like a delicate forest elf or something of that nature.
“You’ve made me look like a heroine in one of my books,” I breathed.
“I know.” Willow squealed and clapped her hands. “And look.”
She walked across the room and came back with a delicate vined circlet that glittered with tiny crystals. Reaching up, she tucked it in my curls.
“Oh,” I breathed.
“I know, right? It’s just perfect. And no veil, I’m thinking. Just like this. Look.” Willow fluffed the skirt out so the material trailed behind me. “This will flow nicely behind you and you’ll look like this delicate mystical princess when you walk down the aisle.”
“I can’t believe this is happening. Today.” My stomach turned in knots.
I’d given up complete control of the wedding to Graham.
It might be insane, but I had no energy left to make any more decisions. Frankly, it didn’t much matter to me. I was just so happy to not live in fear of his potential demise that I didn’t care what kind of party he wanted.
My only request was that there had to be some sort of bookish element to the day.
It still made me laugh to think about the look of panic that had crossed his face at that.
Nevertheless, I’d insisted.
“Right, let’s get the dress off you, princess,” Willow ordered. “I need to finish this up and you need to get into hair and makeup.”
“I mean … I don’t really need much, do I?” I bit my lower lip, worrying about what the hair and makeup team would do.
“Just enough for the pictures,” Willow said, already tugging the zipper down my back. “Go on, go on. I have to work and get myself ready.”
“I can’t believe you made bridesmaid dresses for everyone,” I said, shaking my head at her. “You’ve gone and lost your mind, Willow.”
“I work well under pressure. And I called in some help. And, really, how were you meant to choose just one of us? It’s better this way. Honestly, the hardest part was picking a color that would flatter everyone.”
She’d landed on a deep forest green, explaining that it was neutral enough to flatter most complexions and would look lovely for a winter wedding at the castle.
Because, of course, we were getting married at the castle. And, apparently, everyone in Loren Brae was invited. Graham had briefly toyed with having it at The Tipsy Thistle, but when I pointed out it would be almost impossible for him not to work on his wedding day, he relented.
Four hours later, I was starting to panic.
There’d been hair.
There’d been makeup.
There’d been so many conversations about updos, and lipstick colors, and shoes, and jewelry that I felt like I’d melt into the floor.
“More champagne for this one. She’s got that look in her eye,” Sophie called from where she nibbled on a piece of cheese while getting the finishing touches done on her hair.
“And music. Where’s the music?”
A glass of champagne materialized in my hand as buzzy disco music started in the background. I caught a glimpse of Brice in a blur of movement and I stared in astonishment to see him kitted out in full Highland regalia-kilt, black brogues, a fitted tweed jacket and stylish tartan cravat.
“Right, let’s have a look then.” Willow gave one last tug to my dress and then turned me around.
“Awww,” the room said as a whole and I blinked at my reflection in the mirror.
“Oh, Agnes,” Hilda said, wiping her eye.
“Don’t start,” I ordered, pointing a finger at her.
“It’s nothing, it’s nothing. Just a wee bit of dust,” Hilda promised.
I looked like me, which was exactly how I wanted to look.
But I looked like the best version of me.
My makeup was glowy, making my eyes look enormous and dreamy, my hair was lightly pinned back, and the circlet glittered among my curls.
The gold rowan leaf dangled from a delicate gold chain, interspersed with softly sparkling diamonds, that Kaia had made for me.
The dress fit like a glove and beyond anything else, I looked happy.
“Your bouquet.”
“Oh.” I breathed a sigh of happiness as Willow handed me a gorgeous bouquet of anemones. Just like the ones Graham had given me all those years ago.
“Ladies.” A knock sounded at the door. “It’s time.”
“Wait!” Sophie shouted. Turning back, she rushed forward. “A cheers first, ladies.”
We all leaned in, and I beamed at the beautiful group of women around me, all decked out in their gorgeous dresses, each woman unique and beautiful in their own way.
“To Agnes, on her wedding day. Our bookish warrior, who showed that love will always outshine darkness.”
“Oh, Soph.” I sucked in a breath.
“Slàinte.” We all cheersed and drank, and then I fell in line, following the girls down the hallway.
I had no idea where the ceremony would be. Graham had refused to answer any of my questions, and finally, I’d just left him to it. It was better that way, really. If I knew anything about him, it was that he liked to throw a good party.
“Oh.” Tears threatened as I realized where we were going.
My incredibly handsome, amazing man was marrying me in the library.
Of course.
Of course he’d picked the library.
It was quite possibly my favorite place in the world. And since we were keeping the ceremony intimate, with the celebration after for everyone to attend, it made sense that it would be the perfect space for it.
“He’s a good one, Agnes.” Lia looked over her shoulder and winked at me, before walking through the doors that had been thrown wide open.
Music fell out, light and lilting, and I smiled as my mum came forward to join me.
She was walking me down the aisle today.
When I’d called her, after everything was over, I’d never been more shocked than to see her bawl her eyes out.
For over two hours, we’d talked, really talked, about the hurt and pain and shame she’d felt about not being able to face the curse herself.
The next day, she’d been on my doorstep, bags in hand, and ready to help me with the wedding.
“I’m proud of you, Agnes.” Mum looked at me, her eyes full of love. “You did what I never had the ability to do. I was too heartbroken to see my way through it, you ken? I hope you don’t blame me for it.”
“Och, I would never. I think it was meant to be me, Mum. It feels right. This all feels right.”
“I always knew that lad was meant for you. He’s cheeky, but och, he’s just the best kind of cheeky, isn’t he?”
“He really is.” I couldn’t wait to see him in his kilt either. Nerves skittered through my stomach, because I hoped he’d like the dress that Willow had made for me.
As Liora went through the doors, I turned and stood at the back, waiting for my turn, and my mouth fell open.
He’d transformed the library into a moody, beautiful wonderland.
Pots of flowers were tucked among the bookshelves, twinkle lights were entwined behind the books and along the fireplace, and flowers draped the mantle.
The long tables that usually dominated the room had been removed and replaced with chairs, and everyone turned with smiles on their faces.
But all I could see was Graham.
He looked … goddess, but he looked smashing. I truly wasn’t sure how I’d let this man out of my sight. He was properly done up in a kilt with dark blue threads through it, and a fitted jacket that showcased his broad shoulders.
And the smile fell from his face when he saw me.
I blinked, unsure of what to do, until I realized that the damn man was crying.
He reached up and dashed a tear from his eye and I had to swallow, trying to force myself past the tears that threatened. I would get in so much trouble with Willow if I ruined my makeup now.
But bloody hell. It was Graham. My Graham. And he was up there crying over me in a wedding dress.
We’d gone through so much, he and I, only to land here.
Finally.
Where we belonged all along.
Taking a deep breath, I met his eyes and gave him a reassuring nod.
We were doing this.
There was nothing that Graham and I couldn’t tackle, together, with the curse conquered and the world at our feet.
And I was ready. I was finally ready to step into one role I’d never thought would be mine.
Wife.
I stepped forward.
A bellow shattered the room and I ducked instinctively, my mum shrieking as her flowers went flying into the air.
Clyde barreled through me, all icy cold air and joyous mooing, and raced down the aisle.
“Damn it, Clyde,” Lachlan said.
“He’s stealing your thunder,” Willow complained.
“He is such a diva,” Matthew said, glaring at where the ghost coo was currently taking delighted laps up and down the aisle. “Worse than even me, I’d say.”
“Clyde,” I called, recovering myself. Somehow, I was now hovering on the knife-thin edge between hysterical tears or laughter. “Care to walk me down the aisle?”
Clyde reared his head up, and seemingly delighted to be invited, he pranced his way back down the aisle and stood on the other side of me, swinging his head left and right, proud as could be.
“Is this really …” My mum looked askance at the coo.
“Och, aye. I mean, would it really be a wedding without Clyde here?”
Clyde bellowed out his agreement, making us all jump again, and then with the ghost coo marching me down the aisle, I went to meet the love of my life.
After all, what was love without a wee bit of magick?
Oh, friends. Take a breath. I know. I put off writing this goodbye for as long as I could.
But here's the thing about the Highlands. They're never done with us.
Out past the lochs sits a tavern that appears on no map. The ale brewed inside is enchanted, and the women who brew it have a wicked reputation. The door opens only for those who truly need what's poured there.
And look out into the mist on your way in... you might just spot a familiar face.
Read on for my Author’s Note, then stay for a sneak peek at where the magic leads next.