I like that kid, Tyrrik said. They’re not all that smart.
I bit my lip to stop from laughing. The girl’s mother ambled toward the opposite edge of the courtyard. The young girl scampered after her but stopped at the entrance of the alleyway and turned back to look at the night sky.
As she looked down, a sudden notion struck me, and I stepped from the shadows, dropping the veil as I dragged Tyrrik with me.
The girl startled at the sight of us, squeaking. I heard her gasp as she looked at the stars again and then down at us.
I held my finger to my lips and winked.
Her eyes widened.
Would it be cooler to shift and take off? I asked my mate. Or to blur out of here?
“Arwyn!” the girl’s mother called.
The girl glanced over her shoulder and half turned. But rotating back she lifted her hand and, with a shy smile, waved.
Tyrrik and I waved back.
I crossed the now empty courtyard and jumped up onto the lip of the fountain. Chest bursting, I brushed my hand over the welded flower and then looked to the night sky to the blue star, blowing a kiss to my beautiful mother. I love you, Mum.
Then I got down to business.
Prying the welded flower from the stone without bending the metal was difficult, but I’d had a lot of practice in Gemond; the metal tyr would be the crowning treasure of my hoard.
You’re taking that? Tyrrik asked, his shoulders shaking.
I covered their kingdom with flowers; I get this one.
The welded flower came free, and I leaped back down, glaring at my hooting mate. With a deep breath, I peered once more around the empty town square. I’m glad we came here. I feel settled somehow. Like what we’re doing is the right thing.
You still had doubts?
I lifted a shoulder. Sure. A little. But I was determined to embrace life—all of it.
And you shall. I’m glad we came, too. Now, I don’t have to pretend to stay asleep when you fly here at night. He kissed my forehead, and before I could protest something we both knew was true, he added, We should get going so we can reach the forest in time.
“In time for what?”
He paused. “A surprise.”
“Is the surprise revealing ourselves to people who think we’re dead?” I asked.
“No.”
“A huge diamond carved in your likeness?”
His lips curved. “I’m afraid not, my love. Don’t bother trying to guess.”
Pretty sure I’d spend the entire journey to the forest doing so. A thrill shot through me, and I exhaled, a slow smile crossing my face. We’re going to be part of this realm, live among the people and make things better.
We are, Tyrrik answered, reaching for my hand. And you will inspire many to do the same.
I gave his hand a squeeze, the welded flower safe in my other hand.
Letting go of residual fear was hard.
But residual was all that was left. I’d fought my horrors, and I’d won.
I’d conquered my fear.
Epilogue
Those who knew we existed were small in number but integral in the restoration of our realm: Lani, Kamini, Caltevyn, Zakai, and of course, Dyter.
Tyrrik and I circled the middle of the Zivost, my stomach a bundle of nerves. Lani didn’t bother to keep the gold veil up these days. No point when there was a treaty between our kinds. That, and I could get through the veil anyway. My Drae ears made it impossible to ignore the gasps and screams from the Phaetyn below as we descended. The gaping Phaetyn pressed back to the outer edges, trampling each other. I chose to believe they were giving us space to land.
“They’re alive—”
“But I saw them die—”
“Impossible.”
I think they’re taking it pretty well don’t you? Tyrrik asked me.
I chuffed with nervous laughter as we landed. My gut churned, and I hesitated before shifting.
Don’t forget your surprise is waiting, my mate said.
Shifting, I grumbled, Sometimes I get the feeling you just bribe me to do everything.
Does it work?
Yes.
Then why would I stop? he asked.
Straightening, I cast a furtive glance around the forest clearing. In my bid to avoid the shocked Phaetyn, my gaze snagged on the banner strung overhead.
I read aloud, “Biannual Potato Growing Competition.” I grinned at Tyrrik. “For real?”
He nodded, his smile as wide as mine, radiating love. “Surprise!”
Holy pancakes. “I love it.” I cracked my knuckles. “This competition is mine.”
“As it’ll be every six months now, my love.”
Too true. Now I’d come out of hiding, I wasn’t rolling over for anyone. Not that there was much competition. I’d kick up a fuss about Lani competing because she had a crown that amplified her powers. If she wanted to grow big potatoes, she should have thought about that before accepting responsibilities. Which was exactly why I wasn’t a queen or empress of anything other than potatoes and soap. All the other titles were overrated. But this? Totally worth coming back to life.
A crowd of people strode toward us, and I saw my friends, those who knew and a few who’d been kept in the dark after our faked deaths.
“Rynnie!”
My smile widened, and I approached Dyter and said, “Hello, Father.”
“What?” he said in confusion. “Who said that?” He reached for me, his hands grasping at the empty air.
A length of material covered his eyes. The battle against Draedyn had left Dyter with his life but not his sight. He had learned the lesson of trusting blindly just because a person played on his empathy, or worse a common nationality. Queen Lahr had played him from the moment we’d stepped into her kingdom, acting the part of a helpless Veraldian woman. But the harsh lesson had served him well in the early months of his rule, and he hadn’t been caught by the same ploy again.
“Whatever, old coot,” I said, stepping forward and enveloping him in a hug. I’d last seen him three months ago. Our separation made me appreciate the time I had with him even more. Even with his endless blind jokes.
“You’ve decided to rejoin the realm?” he asked, squeezing me tight.
I nodded against his shoulder. “We have.”
“That took courage, my girl. Ryhl would be proud.”
Had this been what my mother always yearned for? A life where she didn’t have to hide in fear? Smiling, I said, “Yes, I believe she would have.”
“Drae,” a woman said.
Pulling back from Dyter’s arms, I cocked a brow at my friend Queen Lani. “Phaetyn.”
I hugged her next and then Kamini, who Lani had nearly killed herself to save.
“You’re competing?” Kamini demanded. “That’s not fair . . . really not fair. You have ancestral powers. Lani isn’t competing.”
“She has a crown,” I said quickly. “I don’t. It’s totally fair.” Okay, so maybe I had a small edge, but then maybe this really was my calling. Besides, I’d be setting a standard and inspiring others to reach for the stars, in my humble opinion.
Kamini grumbled under her breath, and I felt Tyrrik’s amusement echoing my own.
I waved at King Zakai who was sitting down at the far end. He lifted a hand in greeting, busy conversing with a young woman. The death of Zakai’s son had dealt the king a blow he’d never quite recovered from. To have lost so much in his realm and then his only son made me want to cry on his behalf each time I saw him. He’d aged decades in the last year, although he smiled as the two assassin boys took seats to his left. Rumor was he was training one of them to be the next ruler. I had my money on non-smiley. Neilub set a plate of chocolate in front of the young woman before saying something to Zakai, making the old man laugh. I hoped the king would find some measure of joy until death led him to the moon and stars.
“They’re about to begin,” Tyrrik whispered in my ear, his breath warming the sensitive skin of my neck.