Epilogue
The prince never loosened his grip on Ilaria.
Her arm throbbed beneath his hold, each step jarring the ache deeper, her chest burning with ragged breaths she could barely drag in.
He didn’t stop running. Not when voices called after them in confusion. Not when they crossed the square and saw angels pouring into the grand hall. Not when the docks came into view, moonlit and bristling with Frienen guards.
Several of them waited at the bow of a ship, tensed and pacing. At the sight of their prince, they snapped into action, immediately shouting orders and tossing down a rope ladder that Asterion caught with one hand, pushing Ilaria forward with the other.
“We need to hurry,” he said, urgency bleeding through each word. “Let me help you up.”
Ilaria’s hands wouldn’t move even if she tried. Her body was numb as memories of the past half hour flooded her mind in endless loops.
Her father, the king of Rhovar, had been felled by an angel.
“My mother,” she whispered, voice thin and quivering. “I need to get to her.” She tried to step back, but Asterion’s hold was unyielding.
“Azriel will protect her,” the prince promised. “And if he doesn’t, we need to ensure that at least one Noriclat lives.”
Ilaria rooted herself to the dock, trying to dig in her heels. “How can you speak for a man you don’t know?”
His jaw tensed. “I’ll explain everything once we’re on the ship, but we have to hurry—”
She wrenched her arm from his grip, hard enough to throw him off balance. Slipping free, Ilaria spun and bolted back in the direction of the castle, the slap of her boots loud against the wood. Behind her, the prince cursed and gave chase.
She yearned to unleash her shadows. To halt him and blind any who might be watching. But there were too many angels now, too many eyes that might see what she truly was. Not to mention that she was barely ahead of Asterion when the world abruptly changed.
The docks surrounding them vanished mid-stride. The planks beneath her feet dissolved, replaced by open water on every side. She faltered. It looked as though she were surrounded by nothing but the sea, unable to move without falling in.
Fortunately, she was an excellent swimmer.
“Just wait a moment, would you?” Asterion called, sounding exasperated as his voice rang out over the water.
Ilaria did not wait. Instead, she hurled herself off the edge of the planks only to find that the ground beneath her held firm. Instead of water, she landed hard on her knee, gasping from the pain that spiked up her leg.
It’s not real.
“Who are you?” she demanded, whipping toward him. “Remove these ridiculous illusions at once.”
“I’m offended you think they’re ridiculous.” Asterion crossed the space between them, and soon Ilaria found herself lifted clean off her feet and slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
“Let me go!” she snarled, beating at his back. Her shadows slid down his figure to his ankles, trying to pin him to the ground. Asterion only grunted, and while his steps slowed, he continued to push forward.
Around them, the illusion began to fade, the world settling back into the docks as briny air stung her face.
“Get us out of here,” he instructed a crew she couldn’t see. Only when they were on the ship did he set her gently onto her feet, exhaling a tired sigh as he glanced down at her shadows.
“Relax. You don’t have to fight. No one here means you harm.”
Ilaria highly doubted that.
She blinked until the illusion over her eyes melted away entirely. The ship’s deck sharpened beneath her feet, ropes creaking in the wind. Ilaria’s gaze swept the ship, stopping short at the sight of a tiny white vesper hovering directly before her.
She recognized it as the same Luminel who had been perched on Aurelie’s shoulder back in the woods.
The creature circled her once, expression curling into a deep frown, then zipped to the prince’s side and nestled into his hair with an easy familiarity.
“Vexara!” Asterion greeted her, warmth brightening his tone. “Stars, I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“The demon experiments with angel blood,” the vesper said by way of answer, so pleased that she was practically glowing. “I may have tried a taste.”
“Brilliant move, Vex.” To Ilaria’s surprise, Asterion reached up and stroked the creature’s head with great fondness. “How’s my sister?”
Sister? Ilaria’s hand flew to her chest, steadying the wild rhythm of her heart. The prince of Frienen was not supposed to have a sister.
“She’s alive,” Vex said, her light dimming now that she was no longer being showered with praise. “Though not for lack of trying.”
“Can I count on you to keep it that way?”
Vex’s sigh was so deep that her wings began to sag. “If you must.”
“It’ll only be a while longer,” Asterion promised. “Bring them to Frienen. Let them know that’s where Ilaria’s being taken.”
“Is that a lie?” Ilaria demanded, her words sharp as she fixed her gaze on the prince, refusing to show the depth of her fear.
There was a quiet resignation in the way Asterion smiled. “Of course not. What I told you earlier was the truth. No one here wishes you any harm.”
“You say that, and yet still you use magic to deceive me,” she pressed, voice like the strike of thunder and holding the same tone of command she’d learned from her father. “I said to remove all of your illusions.”
Asterion stared back at her, the wind stirring his hair as the ship drifted free from the harbor. There was a heaviness in his eyes. A sorrow that made her stomach turn.
“You always have been clever.” He sighed. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you.” Even as he spoke, Asterion’s form began to shift. His frame lengthened, hair leaching white from the roots as his features rearranged themselves.
And soon, Ilaria was staring into the familiar face of a boy she’d known long ago.
The boy she’d always been meant to marry.
“Hello, Ilaria,” Orion whispered. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”