“Do not say that.” Ariadne stepped back, sliding her fingers down his shoulder and arm to grab his hand, and turned toward the tall glass doors that led to the veranda.
Still, Azriel’s heart gave a throb. “I regret—”
“Hush.” Ariadne pulled him forward to where she opened the veranda door and stepped outside into the frozen winter air. She brushed the snow from the top of the railing before leaning on it and looking out at the gardens below. While much of the now-castle had been changed, the view from her old room had not.
“Do you wonder how your life would be now if that night had not happened?” he ventured to ask, not entirely wanting to know the answer.
Ariadne grunted in response, the very un-Caersan-like habit picked up after so long amongst the dhemons. She grinned up at him, then sobered as she said, “Of course. I know precisely how things would have been had you never gone through with it.”
Raising his eyebrows, Azriel studied her before pressing, “And?”
“I would have married Darien Gard,” Ariadne said, leaning her head against his arm. “But it would not have lasted long.”
“Why is that?”
She scoffed. “Do you think Loren would have allowed his younger brother to become the heir to the Princeps?”
At that, Azriel had to chuckle and shake his head. A phantom fury rose in his chest at the thought of that wretched man, which he crushed back into submission. “You’re right. He would’ve had Darien killed and married you himself.”
“Madan would be dead because you never brought me back,” Ariadne continued with a small shake of her head. “Which would have broken Whelan in ways I can now comprehend and would never wish upon anyone. Then the two of you would likely have destroyed all of Valenul anyway.”
Before he could stop himself, Azriel barked a laugh at the very idea. Yes, he could see himself razing the Keonis Valley after being driven to madness by his broken bond. Yes, he was certain Whelan would’ve lost himself as well. After he’d nearly killed Madan in a haze of darkness, something changed in the relationship between him and Whelan. Until that bond was reciprocated by Madan, Azriel was certain a full repair would be nearly impossible.
Having unfettered access to the Keonis Tree was now imperative in preventing further destruction from such broken bonds.
“There was only ever one course of events that could lead us to this moment,” Ariadne said after a moment, turning her sparkling gaze up to him as she tucked herself closer to his radiating warmth. “And despite the pain we experienced to get here…I am grateful for it.”
Azriel sucked in a burning breath, eyes pricking with unshed tears. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, tilting his head back to stare at the stars peeking through the thick, winter clouds.
They’d both gone through entirely too much to land in this place of happiness. Her abduction and torture. Hisimprisonment—twice over—and broken bond. Their shared grief in losing family and friends whom they loved more than anything. Still, they’d risen from the darkness together, stronger and more resilient than ever.
“I’m grateful for you,” he rasped, letting the tears fall as he brought his forehead to hers and inhaled the floral scent of her deeply. “I love you, Ariadne, more than anything.”
The salty taste of her own tears mixing with his, Ariadne kissed him long and slow before whispering against his lips, “Until the very end?”
And there, in the place where it’d all begun, Azriel could summon no other words than, “Until the very end, my love.”
Epilogue
Music poured from the ballroom filled with guests from all across Myridia. Ariadne wore a dress of deep violet inspired by the avian fashions of the Sol Isles with a dramatically low back meant to accommodate the winged fae. The layers of light, sheer fabric rippled in the dazzling candlelight of the massive chandeliers overhead as she moved between high fae and dhemons, lycans and vampires, all wearing their best—something they all could obtain with the thriving trade between kingdoms.
Pausing to hug Margot and greet Edira, arm-in-arm with Liulund, a flicker of pain fluttered through her chest. The high fae woman had never quite recovered after Pol’s death, and Haen’s notable absence underscored their own struggle to cope with the loss of their brother. Yet the reservations of those guests were in direct contrast to H’axinhum rolling her body against a grinning Lhuka on the dance floor. The former was unfazedas usual, while the latter had only recently found himself again after Gavrhil’s passing.
Despite the losses of the previous year, Brutium had always been one of Ariadne’s favorite holidays, celebrating the winter solstice and Bastien, the God of Rain. The night being at its longest, she could bask in the celebrations for almost as long as she desired, cut off only by the rising of the sun. Though she would have previously used the Noct to circumvent the vampire curse and extend her festivities into the daylight, the necklace had become a gift to Emillie after she traveled to L’Oden Forest for Vertium and connected to Silve.
“I could not possibly take this from you,” her sister had said after completing the fae ritual that solidified her bond with Luce. Despite Emillie’s discomfort with the strange stone, she never once complained when she had borrowed it since her first interaction with it during Ariadne’s rescue from Laeton.
But Ariadne had hung it around Emillie’s neck nonetheless. “You have always missed the sun more than me. You deserve to live in the daylit hours with Luce.”
When Emillie had argued more, it was Madan who cut in and insisted that he would share his half with Ariadne as needed. A kind gesture, even if she felt it to be unnecessary. She had lived almost a century in the moonlight before aching for a sunrise, after all, and with the end of the Dhemon Wars, it was no longer a crucial accessory.
Now, Ariadne lived once more in the shadows, unbothered as she had for so long. Built on the foundations of the old Caldwell Estate, her new manor and outlying buildings were designed to welcome dhemons to the Keonis Tree from their pilgrimage to the western Keonis Mountains and accommodated the need to shield vampires from the risk of aegrisolis. Large windows to let in floods of moonlight were equipped with long, thick curtains capable of blocking out the sunlight as needed.
As midnight quickly approached, those windows remained uncovered to highlight the snow piling up on the panes and dark silhouettes of trees beyond. The guests basked in the golden candlelight, drifting from the dance floor to refreshments and for a quick turn through the gardens. Most often, the dhemons took up posts outside where their warm bodies could cool in the frozen temperatures.
Ariadne, however, had another to consider before she slipped into the frosty air. As such, she adjusted her hold on the delicate bundle in her arms. She swayed with the music—or as close to it as she could manage—putting a more generous rock to the movement anytime the tight wrap gave a squirm.
“The decorations are perfect.” Revelie appeared beside her, face flushed from her latest dance with Jakhov, during which he had swung her high in the air with an infectious laugh. She wore a similar dress to Ariadne—one she would not have chosen on her own.
