Wayne rolled his eyes at the implication that he was not worth his own trip, but hugged Samson anyway.
“We will not be leaving High Luana often,” Eslar added, tempering the expectations Samson was setting. His familiar, no-nonsense demeanor was oddly comforting, something Takako had always appreciated in the man. Yet, despite his words, he took a step toward her, holding out a hand. Takako gripped it firmly. “However, we may be able to make an exception for a royal wedding, should one ever happen.”
Takako gave a knowing grin.
“Wayne, do not cause too much trouble.”
“I was never the troublemaker,” he insisted to a wary-looking Eslar. “That was entirely Jo.”
“You can only use Jo as an excuse for the last year and change of the Society, not all your antics prior. I do recall when you were meddling with an illegal—”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” Wayne stopped Eslar hastily. “No need for details, old friend.”
Old friend. The words stuck with Takako. Here they were, four people who should’ve never met. Four people who’d shared little in the way of mutual interests, thrust together in such an impossible situation that they’d had no choice but to become friends. She’d once resigned herself to seeing these faces, and no others, for the rest of her life.
Now, there was a new age upon them. They all had choices before them, paths they could take. Still, something drew them together. The ties that bound them would persist, and Takako certainly didn’t find herself upset at the thought.
Takako gave a wave as Samson and Eslar were ushered into a vehicle and carried away, nothing more than the residual haze of magic left behind. She and Wayne stood in the central courtyard for a long minute, saying nothing, merely looking at where their friends had once been. It was time for them all to start anew—as they’d tried to do when they’d first woken in this Age of Magic—but with no godly threats looming over their very existence.
“And then there were two,” Wayne finally muttered.
“Not for long.” Takako put her hands in the pockets of her pressed trousers, feeling where the rough starched wool met the inner silken lining. They were standard-issue for the Aristonian army, something Takako was notexactlya part of. But she was also not exactlynota part of it, either. Her new post straddled the line between garnering respect in Aristonia and not committing treason against her home country. “You’re leaving soon too, aren’t you?”
“‘Fraid so. I should get back to Yorkton, make sure my executives haven’t destroyed my company. I like being rich far too much to see them squander my success.” Wayne turned, starting back for the castle. Takako followed suit.
The castle was almost done being rebuilt—construction with magic was far hastier compared to purely manual labor in Takako’s time—a time that was slowly fading from her consciousness. Takako was letting it go without struggle. The world she’d been born into was gone; she’d accepted that in the Society with every granted wish. Now, it seemed like a natural evolution to settle into this reality in its entirety. She could actually put down roots here, after all; it wasn’t as though timelines would be changing again.
“I’m surprised you’re not taking her up on her offer. Head of the finance department sounds . . . prestigious,” Takako said, throwing a brief smirk in Wayne’s direction.
“She shouldn’t give out every cabinet post to her friends, and you already accepted Champion.” Wayne gave her a wink.
“Champion is not a political position. I am not Aristonian, so it cannot be. It’s more of an award of—”
“Easy there, I’m just joshin’ you. Either way, you’re right, I should get to finishing up my travel arrangements,” Wayne finished.
They came to a stop just inside the now perpetually open castle gates. They overlooked a recessed central courtyard—the same place Oblivion had died—that was slowly being transformed into a grassy garden. The destruction of the castle had been written off to the public as surprise renovations gone wrong. At the same time, there was a quiet mention of Pan being “out” and Jo being “in” as Snow’s royal advisor.
Aristonia on the whole seemed so thrilled with the changes that no one probed too deeply. Of course, there were always conspiracy theories online for Jo to find and the rest of them to get a laugh at. Even when the truth was seemingly impossible, fiction could be made to sound stranger (and oftentimes more hilarious) than fact.
“I’m sure I’ll see you again soon,” Takako said with a smile, their rooms in opposite directions.
“Likely for that eventual wedding.” Wayne looked across the garden. “Can’t believe Snow wouldn’t lock a woman like that down.”
“Women aren’t meant to be ‘locked down’,” Takako reminded him, though she’d heard the expression before and saved Wayne the unnecessary explanation by continuing. “And it isn’t for lack of trying . . . after all, it’s Wednesday. I’m sure he just made another attempt.”
“I don’t understand them.” Wayne shook his head.
“Understand those two? I don’t think we ever will. But wanting to live a little without Pan and the Society pressing on them . . . that at least is clear enough to me.”
At that moment, the disk in her pocket pulsed with magic. Takako pulled it out, recognizing the frequency. Her eyes skimmed the message on its surface.
“I’ll leave you to that,” Wayne said, already starting to walk away.
“Sorry! It was from my family.”
“It’s all right. I’m not leaving until the end of the week, I just decided. We can have a rematch at tarith with a nightcap tonight.”
Neither of them really knew how to play the elvish tile game. They seemed to have more fun arguing over made-up rules than actually trying to learn the game properly.
