Vesper met Lyra’s gaze. She knew that glint within his dark eyes: challenging her to do something daring. Had he a tail, he’d be swishing it, defying her to walk away from such a grand adventure. Her entire body lit up with awareness as he wrapped an arm around her waist, low enough to brush her hip with his fingers.
“What say you, my lady wife? Shall we retire to our chambers for some well-deserved, long-awaited . . . sleep?”
He didn’t seem the least bit nervous, but she was enough for both of them. She nodded in silent agreement, all the while wondering if the flush to her skin was apparent to Luce and Dyadia.
Luce cleared his throat and waved an arm toward the guarded staircase in the distance. “Let us escort you there. My last duty before I retire my position as Queen Lyra’s proverbial chastity belt.”
Lyra coughed a shocked laugh as they strode toward the stairs.
“Does this mean,” Vesper asked, drawing Lyra closer so his lean muscles rippled against her side with every step, “that you’ll no longer bark at us should we deem to have private lovelorn declarations when in your presence?”
Luce scoffed. “My time as chaperone has reached an end. Your mother is a formidable lady. She has royal grandchildren on the mind, and I’m not fool enough to stand in the way of crowned heirs.”
“Nor am I,” Vesper answered, his voice deep and gruff with conviction.
Lyra smiled, her nerves slowly melting into something sweet and hungry.
“Highness.” Dyadia caught Lyra’s attention, moving in beside her. “I have your voice’s essence.” She handed over a thick ceramic jar with a sealed waxed linen top tied in place with twine. “When you’re ready, simply drink the contents.” She turned her feline eyes toward Vesper. The third eye sat closed within its socket. “I thought perhaps you would like to share the restoration between you, privately, as you’ve been waiting for her song longer than any of us.”
Vesper smiled down at Lyra. “Waiting to hear it from her lips, yes.”
They’d reached the stairs that led to Vesper’s turret chamber, now serving as the king and queen suite. The line of guards keeping vigil at the stairway stepped aside, prepared to return to formation upon their queen’s and king’s ascension.
“So we part ways then, for now.” Luce took a step back.
Wait, Lyra signed. I’ve seen the looks passing between you two. You’ve obviously seen Crony, to have received the transference potion’s recipe for my voice. Why didn’t she return with you? What aren’t you telling me? Vesper’s hold on her tightened, as if he sensed ill news as much as her. Her eyes stung when Luce and Dyadia tried to maintain their stoic expressions but failed miserably.
I’m not weak, so stop treating me like I am. Her hands spelled out the words, though they trembled as if to disprove her claim. I can stand strong. But you must tell me, or I’ll forever wonder. I’ll forever seek her in every shadow, in every turn of the moon, in every break of dawn.
Dyadia spoke. “That is precisely where you should seek her.”
Luce tossed her a stern frown, but she lifted a hand as if to assure him.
“Crony loved the moon. The night was a comfort to her. Night and all its creatures. You brought that back, gave her the crickets’ songs and the night-flower’s scent. But you see, she had waited so long for its return, that when the moon passed by, she dared not let it slip away again. It was too beautiful for her to resist. She wrapped herself within your magic that was piecing our world back into place, and let it carry her away. Immortals, we grow weary at times with the normalcy of life, and ache to find new challenges. So that’s what she did, rose to the heavens to be among others of our kind, seeking new dreamscapes. But she wanted you to know how much she loves you, and that she’s looking down on you always.”
Lyra’s heart pinched unbearably. Vesper pulled her against his chest, his chin knocking her crown slightly off-center. She closed her eyes and let the tears fall. Crony was worth every one of them.
Lyra wasn’t sure how long they stood like that at the bottom of the stairs. She felt Luce’s hand squeeze her shoulder, heard him promise to see her again on the morrow. She listened as Dyadia’s footsteps followed his and grew distant until they faded to silence.
When her king at last pushed her to arm’s length to wipe away her tears and straighten her crown, she met his concerned gaze. There was more to Crony’s departure . . . I feel like they’re still keeping secrets.
Vesper’s expression changed upon her remark, his eyebrows crimping. “I sense it, too. But I also sense they’re respecting her wishes. So we should do the same. We can honor her most by being good rulers. And by chronicling everything she did for you . . . for us . . . in our histories.”
Lyra nodded. Behind him, she spotted the winding staircase and thought it looked rather like a mountain. All the weight of the past few days had settled in her feet and nailed her to the floor. Without a word, Vesper lifted her effortlessly, cradled her to his chest, and proceeded to carry her up the steps.
She wrapped one arm around his nape and leaned her head against his temple, the powerful thud of his heartbeat kicking close to her rib cage. She tightened her free hand around the jar that held her songbird voice. I can walk . . . it just seemed daunting for a moment.
Vesper scoffed. This from the girl who used to beg me to carry her every day for five years straight.
She laughed, her eyes burning with tears again—though these were bittersweet. You’re right. It slipped my mind that you have a payment to make. ‘Only when the sun and moon share the sky.’
Vesper laughed this time. He stopped and leaned his shoulder against the wall to balance them on the stairs so he could look into her eyes. “Just so you know . . . I’m much more receptive to such requests in this form. So never hesitate to ask.”
He bowed his head to kiss her—his mouth coaxing hers to open slightly—engaging her in a gentle, slow dance of lips and tongue. When he pulled back with a tantalizing smile on his stubbled chin, she quivered in anticipation of more. His ascent started again, though this time much faster.
She admired how the moon streamed through the windows during their climb, how the light gilded Vesper’s crown and strong profile with soft, silvery tremors. Tomorrow she would awaken within his arms, and she would see that precious face awash in yellow sunlight.
The world had indeed changed. She had reclaimed her kingdom and herself, and somehow, she and Vesper had won the skies. And along the way, she’d won the Pegasus’s heart. Now at last they would fly, though not to escape as she had once dreamed. Instead, like Crony, they were to rise to grander schemes.
Epilogue
Most fairy tales, no matter how tragic the once-upon beginning, end with a happy ever after. However, Queen Lyra and King Vesper were far too pragmatic, due to their own experiences, to believe their future would always be roses and rainbows. Their world was filled with monsters, thorns, dark magic, and curses, however far beneath the earth those now dwelt. So, each stepped into their married life sharing only the hope of peace and unity for their two kingdoms, and the wisdom to work through challenges and dangers together, hand in hand. Most importantly, to never be too proud to take help when needed, however unexpected or humble the source: bugs or shadows, a dwarfish gardener with a penchant for bunny suits, a toothless cook, a greedy goblin, a capricious air elemental with the sneer and cunning of a fox, or a horned witch, old and withered, with quagmire eyes and a smile that could wilt the sturdiest weed. In time, the two kingdoms of Nerezeth and Eldoria came together as one, and adopted the name Nevaeh, for it was believed the reunited heavens had unified the people. Following the example of their young monarchs, the citizens of Nevaeh learned to accept one another again—content with their changing days, nights, and seasons once more. And for this they were rewarded with a more altruistic and attainable ending, in which they shared a hopeful ever after.