They dissipated with a noise like a clap of thunder, rattling the windows and shaking the chandeliers and stealing Sephia’s breath on their way out.
All that remained were little wisps of black. Several of the council members sprang into action then, flooding the room with Sun magic, and Sephia watched the lingering traces of shadows suffocate underneath this power. One by one they all disappeared, and soon she could see the king once more.
He lifted his head. His eyes looked clear, his hands no longer shook. Their gazes met.
Sephia inhaled and exhaled a slow, weary but satisfied breath.
And then she was falling.
Strong arms caught her. Cradled her.Tarron.
She was warm and safe now, and her job was finished, so she closed her eyes and fell asleep.
She wasn’tsure how long she blacked out for. But when she finally managed to open her eyes, she was still in the same place, staring up at the coffered ceiling of the throne room.
Still in Tarron’s arms.
His touch was warm, her blood was cold, and it felt as if they were balancing each other out. As if all of the world was finally balancing out.
“Is your brother okay?” she heard herself mumble.
He nodded and gathered her more completely against his broad chest. Kissed the top of her hair, but said nothing; she thought he might have been too overwhelmed to speak.
She managed to lift her head and crane it in the direction of the throne, and she saw the king still sitting upright, speaking to one of his guards.
“Reckless,” snapped an elderly voice from somewhere behind her.
“Be quiet, Osric,” Prince Tarron snarled back.
King Deven rose to his feet and spoke before their argument could continue. “Let’s settle this now.”
He braced a hand against his throne for a moment. Only a moment. Then he stepped down from the platform that throne sat upon, his movements as powerful and confident as Sephia had ever seen them. He cleared his throat and said, “As far as I am concerned, this woman is not a criminal. She is not who she claimed to be, and by rights she had no business being here, walking our halls and making a mockery of long-standing bargains and traditions.But—”
A chorus of anxious whispers began to rise throughout the room.
He held up a hand, silencing them.
“But days ago, she protected my brother from a potentially deadly attack. And now she has selflessly put herself at risk to take care of me as well.”
“But a sentence must be carried out if we—“
“Sentence? Did you not hear what Prince Tarron said earlier?”
Every gaze in the room was suddenly upon Sephia.
She somehow found the strength to get to her feet. She and Tarron stood side-by-side, hand-in-hand, listening.
“It seems as though she will be marrying my brother.” He glanced at the two of them as he made this declaration, and he winked. “And that,” he added, “is punishment enough, I believe.”
Epilogue
One Week Later
Sephia sat on a bench made of stone, surrounded by rosebushes.
This patch of garden had quickly become her favorite spot amongst the sprawling grounds of Solturne Hall, and for good reason. The view was unmatched; the white stone and gold-accented face of the palace itself was centered behind her, while in front of her was a wide, perfectly manicured trail that led out of the gardens and swept up to the rolling hills in the distance. The sun was setting over those hills, drenching them in a rich, glowing shade of orange. All around her, bees buzzed. Birds chirped. A warm breeze blew, and Ketzal bounced from one stone bench to the next, trying to catch butterflies.
It was as peaceful and perfect as a place could get, Sephia thought as she stretched and laid back on the bench.
