Queen of Blood and Vengeance (Secrets of the Faerie Crown #4)

Epilogue

“I’ve been looking for you.”

The deep timber of his voice caressed my spine, sliding down the nape of my neck and sending my senses tripping over themselves. I rolled my shoulders to dislodge the feeling, to no avail. Not with Arran. There was no getting rid of the feelings he lit in me.

“I know.” I’d felt him tugging at the bond, testing it like a leash. I am not a dog , I said without turning.

And yet, it is your favorite insult when you disapprove of my wolf.

“Only in my head,” I corrected him. “I’d never insult Barkke by making that comparison aloud.”

Arran did not roll his eyes—he insisted that childish motion was still reserved for me. But he sighed heavily, tinged with exasperation.

“How did you even get in here?”

“A lot of hacking away at vines,” I admitted, a twinge of guilt edging the pain from the blisters I’d earned cutting away all the greenery that had blocked the entrance. “I’m surprised you did not feel it.”

“The older the magic, the more tenuous the connection becomes. It has been years,” Arran reminded me, climbing down to where I sat at the edge of the still pool. The waterfall had long since halted, its magic drained by time or the death of the ones who’d conjured it in the first place.

A decade, actually. Almost ten years since the Battle of Camlann. In a few weeks, there would be a celebration. Lyrena was planning it, which meant lots of gold and lots of aural. Honestly, I could not fault her taste.

But that was not the anniversary I was marking tonight.

Our feet dangled well above the water. It made me think of that night so many years ago, when Mya and I had sat on the edge of the Split Sea and I’d finally been brave enough to dip my feet in. Imminent death had a way of seeding false courage.

Arran threaded his fingers with mine, stroking his thumb over the back of my hand. He paused on the ring. It was far from the only jewelry I wore—like most days, I practically dripped with gems—but this simple one was the most special. It always would be. It was the only one I never took off. The one he’d slipped onto my finger before we were even mated, back when I’d refused to believe what he’d known all along. That I belonged to him.

“Are you going to make me ask?”

I lifted one brow. Arran scowled. I reached up and pressed the pad of my thumb to the wrinkle between his dark brows. I held it there until his brow smoothed again. Somehow, he was still frowning. Exasperating male.

His beast growled, a low sound that started in our minds but Arran let bleed into the still air around us. My eyes drifted closed as the sound caressed me from the inside out. I knew Arran was watching me carefully. I took the opportunity to stretch my arms overhead, lifting by breasts and exposing the full length of my stomach which had been hiding beneath the elongated sleeves of my gown.

“Veyka,” Arran growled.

I cracked open my eyes. “Yes, my Brutal Prince?”

His eyes burned black and bright. That sparkling ring of dark fire that existed solely for me… seeing it was nothing short of intoxicating, even after a decade. I doubted my reaction would change even in a hundred years.

The corner of Arran’s mouth twitched.

Bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing, staring at me like that.

“Why are you here, Veyka?”

To remember.

“I promised Lyrena she could try something,” I told him instead. It was also the truth.

“Does it involve fire?”

“Yes.” I turned to face him so he could see my grin fully. “She’s been working on it with Isolde and one of those clever humans who engineers the fireworks.”

Arran tipped his head back until he was looking straight up to where the oval of night sky shone overhead. “I don’t see any fireworks.”

I sighed heavily. “Terrestrials.” So literal. “Come, we should stand back.”

Unfolding to my feet, I carefully maneuvered my hands to keep the elongated ends of my sleeves from falling down into the water. I was fond of this particular garment. The pale blue gossamer reminded me of Mya and the other Aquarians. The sheer sleeves fell from silver clasps at my shoulders fashioned to look like crescent moons. The motif continued throughout the gown; a single crescent nestled between my breasts, joining the braided fabric together before it ruffled out into a full skirt. Cyara had even braided aquamarines into my hair.

“Stand back,” Arran repeated, the corners of his mouth curving downward. He caught the train of my gown and lifted it so it did not trail along the stone walkway.

“Hurry up,” I said, retreating toward the far wall. The greenery had run rampant over the past decade with no one to tend it. It was the only place in the entire goldstone palace with enough water to sustain rich, verdant plants. I tucked myself into an alcove covered in thick ivy.

“What are you up to?”

I pulled Arran in tight against me and kissed him. He hadn’t shaved since yesterday, the evidence scraping across my skin as my mouth explored his. The whole lower half of my face would be red from the caress. An image of my own inner thighs, red and tingling from his scruff, flashed in my mind. But before I could shove him down to his knees, the walls started shaking.

The side of the goldstone palace exploded behind us.

“What the Ancestors—” Arran caged me in with his body, pinning me to the wall even tighter, using his body to protect me from falling goldstone.

Of course, we were well away from any actual destruction. The shaking only continued for a few more heartbeats. And it was several heartbeats after that before Arran eased his stance enough for me to look.

I peered over his shoulder. Not quite as far away as Lyrena had promised.

The pool where we’d sat moments before was gone. So were the carvings that had once hidden behind the waterfall, the first clue we’d had about the succubus and what it meant for Annwyn. Now the pool had become a waterfall itself, spilling not into another but down the side of the goldstone palace.

Arran eased his body away from mine. The wall we stood against was now a ledge, not even as deep as Arran was tall.

“What have you done?” Arran asked, moving to the edge. I took the train of my dress from his hand and moved slowly to join him. This was not the sort of place for taking chances in long gowns. Not when what had once been the inside of the goldstone palace was now the outside, and the drop was at least a thousand feet.

It was completely unrecognizable. The squat stone buildings were gone. The waterfalls that had muffled so many terrors. The vines Arran had used to cage this place off.

“Some memories need to live on.” I lifted his hand to my face, turning my tattooed cheek into his palm. “But others deserve to fade away forever.”

He used that hand to guide my face forward. He pressed a kiss to my forehead. Then my lips. “A thousand years.”

I smiled into his kiss. “And a thousand more.”

Then I slid my hand into Arran’s and finally left the water gardens behind.

THE END