Elric nodded in agreement and Marta took her seat beside him at the table.
Now that I’d let go of my guilt and my remorse,acceptedthe fact that I deserved more, I could finally go about this rationally.
“Well.” I ran my fingers through my beard, contemplating the best course of action. “Before Iris, it had been quite some time before the last sacrifice.”
“Yes,” Iris said, “and a big part of that was the new priest exerting his power. I don’t think it’ll be a regular occurrence.”
“Ahh,” Elric hummed. “He wanted to send a message.” He sat his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his fists. “What if we come up with a schedule for checking the caves? You can teach Marta and I the route and we’ll help.”
Marta nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, we can mark the path with signs or maybe hang banners along the cave walls.”
I smiled at the two of them, grateful for the unwavering kindness they showed those in need–myself included. “I think that would be a good place to start.”
In truth, anything would be better than returning to my old life.
“Well now that that’s settled, let’s eat.” Marta placed a sweetroll on her plate before passing the basket around the table.
Iris’s eyes went wide when I sat the basket down in front of her. “These look delicious.”
“Thank you,” Marta beamed. “They’re an old family recipe. Selvyn isn’t big on sweets, but I’d be happy to teach you how to make them.”
“I’d love that,” Iris said before taking a bite so big it drew a boisterous laugh out of me.
I looked around the table, astounded by the fact that this was my life now. I'd get to experience the sunshine–and the seasons–spending each and every day with the people that I cared about.
With the woman I loved.
My angel.
My flower.
My Iris.
Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
Isat propped up in the window of the cottage, the summer sun warming my skin, and a good book clasped between my hands. It had quickly become my preferred spot for reading, and often Iris would join me, the two of us sitting in companionable silence while we lost ourselves in stories.
My ears perked up at the low whine coming from the cradle next to our bed.
“Ahh, she wakes,” I said, marking the page in my book before padding over to where our daughter rested.
Our daughter.
Each time I thought about Wren, the tiny life that Iris and I had created, it made my heart swell. The love I felt for the two of them was deeper and more intense than anything I’d ever experienced.
I scooped Wren out of the cradle, marveling at her pudgy cheeks and long eyelashes like it was the first time I’d ever seen her.
She rooted, moving her head from side to side with her mouth wide open, seeking out her mother’s breast. Her tail flicked back and forth beneath the blanket, her cries growing desperate.
“Someone’s hungry,” I hummed.
There was nothing I could do about that.
“Let’s go find your mama.”
I carried her out of the cottage and through the fields, curving my body overtop of her to shield her from the afternoon sun.
