But then I do what Tasa would not, out of an overabundance of caution.
And I step forward to hug her.
Learned Muka freezes in my embrace.
And then she lets out a breath, and a lifetime of preconceived notions with it as she relaxes.
When she withdraws, she orders Tasa, “Take care of him. He’s special.”
“I know,” Tasa says, her voice choked.
Then Learned Muka smirks at me and takes her own leave.
“What was that face for?” Tasa asks.
I smile; a real smile, even as I watch the woman who helped make me who I am walk away into danger. “She knows that she doesn’t need to tell me that you’re special, too.”
Tasa looks at me wide-eyed.
“So. We uh. Did we actually do that?” She gestures limply at the stretch of land already being lost to the tides, her hand beginning to shake as the heroic needs of the moment wash away with them.
I gather her in my arms.
“We did,” I confirm.
And then I kiss her.
And with it, this time, at last, I promise her forever.
Epilogue
Kovan
Iamwritinganew entry in the book when large magic incoming pings my senses. I hurry outside and am just in time as Zan, still in his enormous dragon form, lands in the wildflower-covered space between Tasa’s cottage—ourcottage, now—and Celestial Sanctuary Temple.
For a moment, we just watch each other.
It’s been months since we faced off against each other. Since Zan rescued me, and abandoned me to find my fate.
Reminded of my failure of manners that happened next when I first met Tasa, I clear my throat. “I’m glad your scales appear to have healed. If you’re looking for Tasa, she should be back shortly—”
“You’re still here.”
It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “I am.”
Zan studies me.
I resist the urge to fall into a form.
If he’d wanted me dead, he could have simply dropped me.
Then again, maybe he’s changed his mind—
“I expected that the priests would try to find me,” Zan says slowly.
I nod. “I’ve been working on that. The priesthoodisstill sending people—Crystal Hollow is alerting me.” A community effort spearheaded by none other than the cantankerous old woman, who now demands I call her by her name, Nima, without any honorifics (“performative frills,” she scoffed). “But I believe they may finally be beginning to notice that every priest they send after either of us returns substantially less zealous than they started.”
The dragonblinks.
