“She won’t be.” I pull her against my chest, wrapping my arms around her like I can protect her from every fear. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she has choices. Real choices. Not the manufactured kind I gave you.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.” I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Our daughter will be free in ways we never were. That’s the legacy we’ll leave her.”
She holds me tighter, and I feel something settle between us. Not the bond—something deeper. Something that has nothing to do with prophecy or blood magic.
Something that might finally be peace.
Epilogue: Hannah
Six months later
I wake to my daughter kicking.
She’s restless this morning—has been for the past hour, actually—her tiny feet drumming against my stretched belly like she’s already training for combat. I press my hand to the curve of my stomach and feel her settle slightly, recognizing my touch.
“She’s going to be a fighter,” Karax murmurs, his hand sliding over mine. He’s been awake as long as I have—I felt it through the bond—but he waited until I was ready to acknowledge the morning.
“Of course she is.” I turn in his arms, pressing my face against his chest. “She’s our daughter.”
We’ve been calling her Petra. Stone-born. A name that honors his court and my stubbornness, because both of us are too stubborn to let the other choose alone.
The reforms are progressing.
Stone Court looks different now than it did when I first arrived as a tribute. The tribute system has been overhauled—still functional, still providing resources for the court, but no longer designed to crush villages into submission. Human settlements have representatives who attend council meetings. Disputes are resolved through negotiation more often than force.
Not everyone is happy about it.
Lord Greymun remains our chief obstacle, rallying conservative factions, blocking reforms at every turn. But his power is waning. The warriors respect me now—I’ve earned that respect through training and combat and the simple fact that I don’t back down. The younger lords see the wisdom in sustainable relationships with human territories.
Change is coming. Slowly, painfully, but inevitably.
And I’m here to help shepherd it.
A messenger arrives as we’re finishing breakfast.
“From Thorn Court,” the servant announces, presenting a sealed letter. “Marked urgent.”
Karax takes the letter, and I feel his surprise through the bond as he reads.
“What is it?”
“Rosalind Whitmore—Prince Kaelen’s omega.” He hands me the letter. “Her younger sister has gone missing.”
I scan the words quickly. Claire Whitmore, sister to Thorn Court’s omega, has disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Last seen near the Mist Court territories. Foul play suspected.
“Mist Court,” I murmur. “Lord Vesryn’s domain.”
“The fifth court.” Karax’s expression has gone thoughtful. “If the prophecy is progressing in order…”
“Then Claire Whitmore might be the next omega.”
We share a look—the kind of look that comes from months of partnership, of learning each other’s thoughts through bond and shared purpose.
“Should we get involved?” I ask.
“It’s not our territory. Not our politics.” He pauses, and I feel thebuthovering between us. “But Claire Whitmore is connected to the prophecy through her sister. If she’s in danger…”
