Epilogue

EPILOGUE

SEVERAL YEARS LATER

Wren had rebuilt the tower in the forest. It hadn’t been an easy task but Robin had helped. Lark had just flitted from tree to tree, laughing at them. She often did that. Like a wild bird herself, filled with joy and unruly delight. Sometimes the two of them stayed with her, other times they were gone for weeks on end. There was no pattern to be followed and she accepted that they would go where they would, on a whim.

Once Wren had the tower back in some form of order and it felt more like home, she grew the thorn bushes up into a great barricade and spun the various wards throughout Cellandre. She could protect herself, and the twins, when they were there, could take care of themselves.

No one wandered this deeply into the forest anymore, not if they valued their safety, and she wanted to keep it that way.

Sometimes Elodie sent word, because nothing would stop Elodie, but she did that with magic. There wasn’t time to tear herself away from her kingdom, or Roland, or the two precious children born to her just a few months ago.

Your brother and sister , she had said in her message and Wren had smiled. Robin and Lark had been completely absent since then, not even a sign of them in the breeze. They had always been captivated by Roland and Elodie, which made Wren wonder. She’d find out one day, she supposed.

Elodie had said the twins had once demanded a price for their help, a life each. Elodie and Roland had thought they meant a death but perhaps, Elodie wrote now, that had been a misunderstanding.

Whatever it was, it was a blessing and a gift to be accepted rather than questioned.

Suddenly Wren had more family than she would ever know what to do with.

And yet, she was mostly alone.

So when the horse wandered through the maze of her thorn hedge, and stopped by the lake to drink, she was surprised. It was a fine creature, wearing a saddle and bridle which had been crafted by a master. It wasn’t elaborate or overly decorated though. Functional.

The saddlebags were not exactly full, but there were some belongings in them, again of good quality but nothing extravagant. Beautiful, in an understated way, and above all else practical.

The sword, however…that was a royal sword. She knew it.

Somewhere out there, lost in her forest, was a man of royal blood, but not one given to luxury or indolence. More like a soldier really. Or a knight.

Wren let out a weary sigh and went to look for him.

There were still places in the forest where the veil was thin. Once they had been darkwoods, and though the darkness had gone, they were still tricky. They could beguile the unwary and lead them astray without difficulty. They had a siren call, and whispered false promises, and it was far too easy to get turned around and trapped there if you didn’t know what you were doing.

Finn was tangled in vines, his head on one side as if asleep, a soft smile on his lips. He wasn’t even struggling, the fool. He’d given up.

Or perhaps he had never started trying to free himself in the first place and was just waiting. For her.

It must have been a while now for him to have fallen asleep.

Wren knelt down in front of him and pressed her fingertips to his temples. He wasn’t hurt. Just dreaming, lost in the ripples of the music and the magic of the forest. And he looked still as handsome to her as he had when she first found him in similar circumstances so long ago. There was a harder edge to his features, age refining him a little more, but he was no less beautiful for that.

He wasn’t wearing a crown now, and his clothes were simple enough. He wasn’t even in armour, just well-worn travelling leathers.

‘Whatever did you think you were doing?’ she asked firmly.

His eyes opened, softly focused on her and he smiled his dreaming smile. ‘Looking for you, of course.’

‘That tends to involve less lying around in vegetation under a spell, Finn Ward.’

‘And yet, I’ve found you. Just like before.’

‘ I found you .’

‘Same difference.’

He tried to move towards her, no doubt to take her in his arms and kiss her, but the vines held fast. Irritation flickered over his features and he struggled a little more. They tightened, not letting go.

Wren grinned.

‘I may have… um… miscalculated,’ he admitted.

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you think so? What are you doing here, Finn? Don’t you have a kingdom to rule?’

‘Ah, not anymore. Set up a council. Put Laurence in charge now he’s old enough, with Gaius and some of the others to look after him, people we can trust. Abdicated.’

‘Can you do that?’

He shrugged. ‘Well, as king I could do pretty much what I wanted. So I did. And then I came to find you. Like I promised. I told you I would, Wren.’

The fierce joy that surged up inside her almost stole her wits. Wren frowned at him so she wouldn’t show it too obviously but he wasn’t fooled, she could tell.

‘And how did you know where I was?’

‘Stories started circulating about the witch of the woods, describing a woman of unsurpassed beauty, with long dark hair which moves by itself, here…? Who else was it going to be, heart? So I came to find you. Or let you find me, which seemed faster. I was right, wasn’t I?’

He sounded ridiculously pleased with himself for a man trapped in a bespelled forest glade which had once been the most dangerous of darkwoods.

Wren sighed another long-suffering sigh.

‘Am I always going to be saving you from this forest, Finn?’

‘If you’ll have me.’

Have him? Of course she would. Who else could she ever want? She leaned down to kiss him, taking her time while the vines held him in place and he groaned against her mouth, struggling just enough to get closer. He had always loved this, to surrender to her, to be hers alone. To let her take what he offered.

With a murmur, Wren told the vines to release him and Finn moved with languid relief, his hands sliding up her sides, burying themselves in her hair, his lips kissing her mouth, her jaw, her throat. Wren lay back on the forest’s ferny floor, bathed in its dappled green-gold light, and they gave themselves up to the pleasure they had missed for far too long. He was here, he was hers again, and she was his, forever.

Somewhere in the distance she felt the old magic moving, rising with their joy and surging with pleasure. It was free, and so was she. And this was how it was meant to be.

Just her and Finn and a whole future open ahead of them.

All around them, there was birdsong.