I wanted to comfort my children, but I couldn't. All I could do was scream and clutch at Arach. The contact seemed to help. He held me as the images swept through us. Voices circling our minds. Shared history. Time colliding. Merging without merging.
“Hello, A Thaisce,” the King of Fire said to me. “I've waited a very long time for you.”
“Arach,” I whispered, clutching at him. “Damn it, Arach.”
“I lived as best I could, A Thaisce,” Arach said, gritting his teeth through the pain. He slid my ring of remembrance back on my finger. “But my thoughts always returned to the beautiful, strange woman who had come back in time to set my heart afire.”
I made a wounded sound. “I'm so sorry.”
“No, you were right. You gave me hope. And I wasn't chaste. My heart belonged to you, but the rest of my body had needs.” He grinned wickedly, then grunted as another wave hit. “Hold me tighter.”
I squeezed. We crushed each other, but that pain kept the other at bay. And in our minds, the past continued to be overwritten.
There had been an abduction and a reluctant hunt. That much Arach held to. Thank goodness he'd actually listened to me and remembered my instructions for all those years. Arach had been wise, patient, and, above all, loving. He had now loved me longer than any of my husbands, even Odin.
Let's not tell Odin that.
And after the dust of what-had-to-be settled, there had been a great celebration. By going back in time, I hadn't just become a part of a fairy tale, I had also become a legend. A fairy tale in my own right. My story was repeated over and over to warm my Fire Fey during the long years they waited for me to return. When I met the Hidden-Ones for the first time, they played their part, but later, they told me how my words had become their strength. They told stories to each other about the Queen who would come, she who saw them as the fiercest, most beautiful faeries.Theirqueen. No one in Fire forgot me, but especially not them. Not in fifteen thousand years. The other kingdoms forgot, but not mine. My people repeated my name over and over like a prayer. They held me in their hearts and supported their king in his long wait. Because they knew that one day, they would see a dread of dragons flying above their heads.
I didn't know at the time, but as soon as Arach brought me to Fire, stealing me away from the Castle of Eight, our kingdom rejoiced. There I'd been, running for my life, and the Wild Hunt had only been pretending. A haunted house performance for one guest.
At last, the pain ebbed, and we fell into a heap together.
“Mommy?” Samara whispered.
“We're okay, baby,” I said. “Just give us a second.”
I wanted to talk to Arach about everything that had changed and about what didn't, but we were parents. That meant our needs took a backseat to our children's. Sharing a heavy look, we got to our feet and went to comfort our kids. Even Brevyn, who had known we'd be all right, hugged me tightly.
At last, we got Samara back in bed, and just when I thought we might get her to lie down, she asked, “So what happened with Cinderelly?”
“It's all right here,” Arach said with a soft grin as he held up the book I'd been reading.
I took it from him and read the passage he pointed at, “And then Rivella's Faerie Godmother said, 'That's right, baby girl. You're gonna bag the King tonight.'” I gasped and looked up at Arach. “I'm . . . I'm in the . . .”
“Mommy's the Faerie Godmother!” Samara cried.
“Jiminy Cricket,” I whispered.
“No, not cricket,” Sam said. “Faerie Godmother.”
I snorted and tossed the book aside so I could kiss my daughter. “Yes, you're right.”
“Vervain,” Arach said in an odd tone.
I looked over to see him holding the book again. He turned it to me with wide eyes. “You didn't just change a faerie tale. You became one.”
The title at the top of the page read,The Return of the Queen.
Chapter Forty-One
After Arach and I finally got the children to bed, we retreated to our bedroom, taking the faerie tale book with us. Yeah, I wanted to read my story, so sue me. But as soon as the door was shut, I forgot all about my past, tossing the book aside on a chair in favor of going into Arach's arms. Dexter left us to lie down on his bed—a miniature of ours—beside his daughter's bed. Deirdre was fast asleep, completely undisturbed by my adventure.
Arach pulled back to cup my cheeks. “Thousands of years,” he whispered. “And you were worth the wait, A Thaisce.”
“What happened to true love being a great gift but only if it comes later in life?” I lifted a brow at him.
He lowered his hands to my waist and said simply, “I was wrong.”
