Teryn squeezed her hand, and she returned the gesture. Then she inhaled a deep breath and closed her eyes.
Took a step.
And left a piece of her behind.
EPILOGUE
ONE YEAR LATER – HUMAN REALM
The Reaper King and the Witch Queen lorded over Lela in a bloody iron-fisted reign, striking terror into the hearts of all.
At least, that was what some stories claimed, as told by their enemies. Not that they had many now. A year had passed since the fateful battle, and not once had Norun renewed hostility toward Khero. The kingdom had plenty to deal with after fighting a six-month-long rebellion before ceding Haldor and Sparda back to their former kings. Now Khero had two more allies standing between them and a much smaller enemy kingdom. Cora was certain she could eventually convince King Isvius to forge an official peace pact between Norun and Lela.
Syrus had been more than eager to do so. Once Darius’ heir—a wealthy duke who’d boasted the highest merit rating on the island kingdom—took his new post as king, he was quick to disassociate himself from the former king’s actions. It was a smart choice on his part, considering Syrus bore the responsibility for the deaths of King Larylis and Queen Mareleau.
The lie grated on Cora’s nerves—and her heart—but it was essential. Hardly anyone would believe the truth. She may have claimed rule over the land by right of magic, but if she wanted to keep her crown in the eyes of the people, it was best she didn’t spout tales of faerie portals and wars with ancient Elvyn princes. As much as she hated pretending her dear friends were deceased, it was much more believable than them living in a parallel realm inhabited by fae.
Besides, the lie had encouraged peace with Syrus’ new king. Cora burned with curiosity to discover what would come of the kingdom without their ageless, five-hundred-year-old king. Would his meritocracy last? Or crumble?
Only time would tell?—
“Are you thinking about work, my love?”
Cora shook her head and lifted her gaze to Teryn’s. Her cheeks heated, giving her away. Damn. She’d been caught.
“Perhaps,” she said sheepishly.
Teryn was half reclined on the blanket they’d laid out in the shade of a cherry tree. His silver hair was longer now, falling just below his shoulders. He was dressed in trousers, a linen shirt, and an open black waistcoat. It was a warm spring day, perfect for a picnic under pink blossoms that drifted from the branches like snow. They had a spread of bread, fruit, and tea sandwiches before them. The sun was bright, the air was fresh, and this was one of their first calm days to themselves in an entire year…
And here Cora was thinking about work and politics. Again.
“We do deserve a day off, you know,” Teryn said, lips quirked in a sideways grin.
He was right. After everything they’d worked toward this past year—forging peace, merging Vera with Khero, strengthening their position as king and queen, recovering from physical and emotional wounds—they truly did deserve some time to just be themselves. Teryn and Cora. The reaper and the witch. Two young people in love.
She scooted closer to Teryn, and he fully reclined the rest of the way, angling his body until he was resting his head in her lap. She adjusted the skirts of her cream day dress, arranging it in pools of lace around them. “I’m sorry,” she said with a wry grin. “I’ll pay attention to you now. I promise.”
He grinned up at her, his face dappled by sunlight and the shadows of the cherry blossoms. Cora tilted her head back and found Berol on one of the branches, preening. A gust of wind rattled the blossoms, forcing Berol to splay her wings. In its wake, a flurry of pink petals rained down over them. Cora grinned wide and extended her hand, trying to catch them as they fell. She managed to snatch three before the flurry settled. She opened her tattooed palm and let the petals drift onto their picnic blanket.
Her attention then drifted to herinsigmora. Her tattoos had ceased growing on their own. It truly must have been the influence of faemorathat had made them take on a life of their own in the first place. Still, she didn’t need them to grow or change. She treasured her tattoos exactly as they were, a symbol of what she was. A memory of everything she’d experienced, inked on her body.
At least the absence ofmorahadn’t hampered her witch magic. Her abilities continued to grow with every day. Six months ago, she’d managed to dissolve Morkai’s previously indestructible book. With a single touch, it had melted to ash. The last visible trace of him was gone.
Teryn’s magic remained unchanged. He’d grown used to seeing spirits and would give final rest to the rare few souls who sought him out for it. They hadn’t come across any dangerous entities yet, but if they ever did, Teryn was prepared to dispose of them by force.
Teryn’s fingertips brushed her cheek, and she shifted her gaze back to him. He grinned up at her from her lap. She ran a hand through his pale tresses, brushing a few errant strands from his brow.
His lashes fluttered shut. “I like the location you chose for our picnic.”
“Did you only just now notice?”
“No, I noticed from the start. What a sentimental woman you are.”
She snorted a laugh. Though he was right. She’d chosen their location with great fondness. The tree they sat under now was the very same Cora had once shot an arrow into the day she met Teryn. The stream rushed by their blanket in a soothing rhythm.
Teryn wasn’t the only person this location reminded her of.
It reminded her of Valorre too.
