The guards step back to keep the king’s blood from staining their black boots.
King Ronan Reve dies at our feet, a sword protruding from his back and Ivee’s screams tearing through the blood-drenched air.
He deserves this, I remind myself even as tears prick the backs of my eyes. He came to this square today to watch me die. So I swipe the tears from my eyes and turn my back on him the same way he turned his back on me.
Ever watches with a solemn expression on his handsome face. When he opens his arms, I fall into them, and the world in chaos falls quiet as I listen to the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear.
The bodies of those lost are covered and left for the mortician to collect while the rest of the fae watch in stunned silence as the Unseelie drag the wolves’ carcasses back toward their makeshift bridge.
With his arms still tight around me, Ever orders the Unseelie to follow the wolves’ tracks to make sure no more haunt our city and to find out how they reached Rosehill in the first place.
The temple doors swing wide on groaning hinges. A bearded man in red robes emerges, walking through the macabre scene as if it doesn’t exist. How many other fae were hiding in their homes, watching their neighbors be slaughtered?
When he reaches us, he comes to a halt. “Are you Everett Gathin?”
Ever nods. “I am.”
“Are the rumors true? Are you King Bandon’s eldest son?”
“He is,” Nolan announces, joining the robed man. “There are letters from Everett’s mother to the king among the queen’s private correspondence. They were intercepted before the king could read them.”
Madame Ella steps out from the crowd, her emerald gown as pristine as ever. “I can confirm that the king commissioned dresses for his mistress, Willow Gathin.”
All this time, she knew the woman’s name and never mentioned it. When our eyes meet across the crowd, she shrugs.
The bearded man turns back to where we wait, his expression giving nothing away. “Do you have anything to verify these claims?”
From his back pocket, Ever withdraws a letter, one bearing the king’s wax seal.
I’m not sure what the letter says, but it must be proof enough because the man nods and then collects Ronan’s crown from where it lay on the cobbles.
His voice booms across the square, clear and strong. “Let it be known far and wide that King Bandon’s son Everett Gathin is now the King of Willowhaven.”
Epilogue
Light seeps through the drawn curtains, marking the beginning of another gorgeous day. Ever’s soft breaths tickle my cheek as I count the flowers painted on the ceiling of my husband’s barrel-top.
It took a few days, but the Unseelie hunting party found the wolves’ den and where they climbed from within the canyon to plunder the countryside. Turned out, the wolves didn’t cross the bridge after all. Which was a relief because the people of Rosehill needed to trust the Unseelie fae in order for the council to accept one of them as their new leader.
On the twelfth of June, the Kingdom of Willowhaven appointed their first Unseelie King.
Some of the Seelie fae have yet to acknowledge his rule but most are happy enough to give him a chance, especially seeing as he is half Seelie.
So much has changed.
The well is now open to every fae, no matter the day of the week or which side of The Divide they hail from. The citizens of Rosehill no longer shutter their windows and lock their doors on Wednesdays.
Ever was expected to move into the castle straightaway, but after two sleepless nights, he decided the rambling towers were too large and open, so he brought his home into the castle gardens.
Every night, we fall asleep tangled in each other’s arms, with the sweet scent of spring drifting through the lace curtains.
“We really should get up,” I say even as I burrow deeper beneath the covers.
“We really should stay here,” Ever murmurs against my collarbone as his fingers trace the fresh teeth marks he left on my hip last night.
“But there is much to do.” Treaties to sign. Egos to soothe. Bridges to rebuild.
“Everything else can wait.”
