Epilogue

MAEVE

L eona's sides were warm and solid beneath Maeve's thighs, the horse huffing as she was made to stay in place.

With her psychic talents now under tight, precise control, Maeve could sense that Leona wanted to run. To feel the wind in her mane, and the pounding of her hooves on soil. Heart speeding as she sensed her mounts yearning, she forced herself to focus on the ceremony unfolding before them all.

This was the first time the Songweavers were inviting outsiders to witness their sacred song, to see the full might and power of the elves.

Rodan, Jen, Nath, and Pike were all atop their horses, having been instructed that if the Songweavers needed them gone, it had to be quickly.

They stood in a clear cutting, a massive wound on the land scorched and blackened where fire swept through. So much of the island had been like this, ever since Sebastian started his campaign of pain. There had been no other real reason for it, at least none that she had found.

In the four months since they had been back, Maeve had chased down rumor and whisper about Sebastian Sekou's true motivations. She had asked the castle for any sort of journal he may have kept, and had been gifted a heap of cold ashes. He had been incredibly thorough. As though knowing that her inability to understand would haunt her. As if he had been certain he faced utter annihilation that night.

So she had focused on healing every hurt he had ever cast. Including the massive forests which used to dominate the island of Realmsgate. The Songweavers had brought more than three hundred acres back to life already, their magic so thorough it was as though the trees had always stood.

Acolytes finished distributing seed upon the ground, then stood back between Maeve's party and the half-dozen Songweavers, Troy chief amongst them.

It was strange to see her friend adorned not in the hunting leathers they so often wore, but instead a ceremonial garb with bead-decorated, embroidered, and richly dyed jackets, pants, and shoes. Troy's regalia was dark indigo blue and green, their hair unbound but threaded through with feathers and copper ornaments.

Jen glowed with pride as the song started with Troy's magnificent alto-tenor, the others blending seamlessly into melody within an instant of the first note.

Maeve smiled to see it.

In the weeks and months since their return, Jen had been instrumental in rebuilding the theater district, and was already in talks with some of the production companies about joining their ranks. She wanted to act again, something she had neglected since their college days. Maeve was so happy to see the bounce back in her best friend's step.

At first, when it began all was the song. It was powerful enough to make her blood sing, and Maeve squirmed some on her horse, causing Rodan to say through the bond, you're fidgeting. Not very Queenly of you.

And you're teasing. Not very Kingly of you, she shot back.

Not a king yet, he said with a chuckle only she could hear. Not for another month.

She smiled, thinking of the coronation they were planning for her love. Rodan had insisted things be small, but the citizenry were having none of it. They wanted their King back.

Wrapped in these thoughts, she almost did not notice.

Things were beginning to grow.

It was so subtle at first that she blinked, and there was green everywhere. As though some paintbrush had come through and splotched all the land around them in a great circle?—

As far as their voices carry , she realized.

Then the green began to change, to grow into new and various species. Ferns, shrubs, fruit trees, wild berry vines, and trees—oh, the trees! They were in the hundreds, growing before her eyes, twisting as they went as though they were dancing to the song that seemed to make her own heart beat.

Tears flowed down her cheeks and she had no memory of needing to cry. But the melody continued, flowing as surely as a river flowed. Maeve had heard Troy say that it was in the elves' blood, that they woke to the world knowing it because it never ended. It was always with them.

Maeve was still weeping silently when the Songweavers finished the ceremony twenty minutes later, the last note trailing off into the wind in a manner which made her feel she could still hear it, somehow.

Rodan reached out and placed his hand atop hers. She clutched Leona's reins, but loosened her grip at his touch. Do you need me to take lead? He asked her through their connection.

Smiling a little, Maeve shook her head. "I'm fine," she said aloud. "It was just so beautiful."

"I'm glad you liked it," Troy said, coming to their side with a swagger and a grin that was all their usual self. Jen slid off her horse and went to them, and when they spoke next their arm was draped over her shoulders. "It's the first we've shown to outsiders in literal centuries."

"Everyone knows you're here and what you're doing, though," Jen pointed out.

Troy shrugged. "Different seeing versus hearing."

Maeve craned her neck to view the canopy of massive old-growth trees that now surrounded her. Already there were birds alighting in the tallest branches, their little cries like a different music. "This is incredible," she breathed. "It's a miracle."

"It's magic, and loving these," Troy touched the branch of a nearby pine. "With all our hearts. And we do. We'll heal the rest. You'll see."

Maeve wanted to stay and speak with the others, to learn more of what they were doing and how it occurred, but they had other duties pressing. "Thank you, my friend, for letting us be here. I will never forget this." She bowed her head, the diadem Rodan had made for her twinkling in the dappled sunlight. It was a simpler, finer version of what she wore as a crown, and weighed about a tenth as much. She preferred it for while they were out of the castle.

Rodan spoke a few more words, but Maeve was already spurring Leona back toward where the new growth ended and the slashed, burned landscape took over once more. Pike fell into step beside her on his gray mare, River, not speaking until they were well clear and they could hear Rodan and Nath coming up behind.

"Lass, how long has it been since you took rest?"

Maeve glanced at him. Pike still wore a black armband. He said he would remain in mourning for Bethany at least a year, if not longer. He had not decided yet. When she had asked what they were to one another, he had simply smiled a little and remained silent, a silver tear streaking his lined face.

Another pain. Another regret.

She did not have time for breaks, not after everything she had failed to do. "I'll be fine, my friend. We still need to talk to those returning from Attica. They're arriving in droves, now. And we should inspect the southern fields."

They were at the bright beginnings of Spring, and some of the work for sowing had already begun. The growing season here was short, and they were still in danger of another frost, so preparations were being made but planting was not yet underway.

Rodan pulled up on her other side as they cleared the damaged forest and returned to the wide road that wended along the foothills of the great mountain. "We're not far from my cabin," he said casually.

She glanced sidelong at him. "Are you suggesting we abandon our duties?"

"I'm suggesting that we inspected the southern fields three days ago, and that no ship is due from Attica for some time. The people see you, every day. You were among the littles with Sitara and Tevore just this morning." His tone was still mild, but she could sense an edge to it, and then through the bond came the words he would not say aloud. Every ruler must know when to rest. You will never serve your people the way you wish to if you run yourself into the ground.

Maeve fell silent for a moment, then heaved a sigh, pulling Leona to a stop. "Fine," she said, then pointed at Pike and Nath. "You two go back. We'll be fine on our own."

Her friend looked close to arguing when Rodan pointed out, "We're within a fifteen minute ride from my forest, and it is still warded. No one can get to us."

"We'll ride with you to the border," Nath said, his russet stallion dancing to the side as though picking up on his rider's anxieties.

Maeve shook her head but did not argue further, merely angled her horse toward where she knew Rodan's private refuge to be, urging her into motion.

A few moments of blissful quiet, of nothing but Leona's movement under her, the wind in her face, before she heard hoofbeats closing in behind her.

Rodan was alone, expression smug as he pulled Ender to a pace with her mount. "They're going to linger nearby, within earshot."

Maeve rolled her eyes. "Of course." The constant guard was grating on her, but she did not wholly blame them. She had a record of disappearing.

They rode in silence for some time, side by side, the road edged by clear-cutting but the wall of Rodan's private forest coming into view.

Shading her eyes, she peered at the trajectory of Rizor and Tegal, noting that it was only a bit after midday. "There's still the letter from Thea to respond to. Her priestess is in a state."

"She can keep. They can all keep," Rodan rumbled back at her, ducking his head under a low branch as they entered his forest. There was just the slightest sense of resistance against her flesh before she was through, the warding's having been altered to accept her. "And Thea has been given our answer. It won't change."

High Priestess Thea, it ended up, was pregnant.

Cedric—Ninack—was the father.

When Eros had changed the guard into a god, he had changed him throughout time. Cedric and Ninack were one and the same, the human lifeline plucked from the world and transformed into one of pure divinity. Cedric had been burned up, absorbed, and anointed all in one.

Thea had known before they set foot back on the Realms, the secret whispered to her by Ninack in the mountain fortress. He had told her he would come to claim the child when it came of age.

The High Priestess was begging for help, wishing to save the life of her child, and Maeve had every sympathy for her. But Ankou had not been answering any of her prayers, and there was nothing else that she could do. It was a nerve-wracking prospect, having another demigod on the Realms, and all she could hope was that it would not cause endless trouble.

Maeve heaved another sigh as they started single-file through the narrow game trails.

All of that would be a problem for another day.

Here, the forest had been utterly untouched, and the wildlife was abundant in gratitude. Foxes darted out of sight, as did dozens of brush birds, a whip snake, rabbits, and squirrels.

They did not have the great golden bears here, their numbers having dwindled to nothing on the island after Sebastian offered a bounty on their hides.

Maeve had burned every hide she had found in the castle. She hoped it gave the spirits of the bears some measure of peace. The pile had been enormous, and she shook with a barely contained rage as the flames overtook everything. The bears were fierce but intelligent creatures, known more for their pack-like mentality, their care for the old and infirm. They used tools and made rudimentary dwellings. It was as though Sebastian had slaughtered an entire people.

Which, she had discovered, was connected to Aesa. The young witch was a priestess of a sort in her own right, one of the land-dwellers in the First Realm who lived amongst the golden bears and spoke their language. When pulling the curse from Rodan, the one Icarus had cast upon him in Tartarus, Aesa had used the language of the bears to call upon the depths of her magic.

Nath had told Maeve that the common belief was that all the bearkin were gone, long slaughtered and driven to extinction by Sebastian's soldiers.

The thought led down a darker avenue, to what she now knew of Titania and all she had done to become High Queen of the Fae. Who their predecessors had been, and how they had suffered and died in droves for what they had done to her. The knowledge had been enough to keep her from the mirror that Titania had given her, locking it away in a shelf in her vast closet, buried under a pile of tunics.

The Fae had evolved spontaneously out of another non-magical humanoid species, reliant more on technology. And they had used that rudimentary tech to torture Titania, to try to find out how she worked, from girlhood into her adult years, until she came into her full power at thirty years of age.

Then she had her revenge. And it was thorough.

That had been the First War, the one that was only spoken about in whisper and rumor upon the Fae Court. They had decimated the original populace, sparing only those who were known to be Fae. Oberon had fallen in that war, newly bonded to her mother, and set in motion the chain of events which had led to?—

Here.

The cabin on its sweep of moss lawn looked the same as it had the first time she had seen it. There was smoke coming out of the chimney, and the door was open as though to invite them in.

"The horses?" she asked.

"We can let them free roam," Rodan said. "They'll be back by dawn."

Leona flicked her ears then tossed her head, and Maeve slid off her, attending to removing her tack before setting her loose. Rodan did the same with Ender on the other side.

There was something so familiar and lovely about attending to her horse by herself, instead of having the stable hands go about the job. Leona smelled like horse and wind, grass and growing things. She snorted and tossed her head, and Maeve let out a tendril of mental touch, letting the creature know just how much this meant.

Leona settled, nostrils flaring and eyes watchful, but staying utterly still until Maeve finished brushing her down and set her off with a pat to the rump. Flicking her tail in Maeve's face, the horse ambled away, followed closely a moment later by the larger black destrier. Ender may have acted like he hated everyone in the world save Rodan, but there was a genuine bond between the two creatures from their long travels together.

Maeve let out a breath, knowing they would be safe so long as they stuck together.

"I ensured they will," Rodan said, indicating he heard her thoughts. "I spoke with Ender."

Shaking her head, Maeve took his hand. "Are you ever going to admit whether or not you can understand each other?"

Rodan gave a snort of his own and lead her into the cabin. "Of course we understand each other. You talk to your mount as well."

Maeve gave a huff, and they entered the cabin where she found the enormous soaking tub already filled with steaming water. They smelled of animal, and after their bath they both changed into comfortable informal clothes, Maeve taking to the writing desk and the supplies within, while Rodan took a book from his library.

They passed many contented minutes thus, with the scribble of her pen on parchment and the occasional flip of the page from Rodan. Sunlight slanted through the windows, which were thrown wide to allow the mild breeze to flutter through the room.

Maeve had started to lag in her writing when she heard a throat clear and then, "Hi mama. Hi dad."

She whirled, clutching the back of her chair to find a sending of Lydia standing just inside the front door. It was not truly her, for Maeve could see the wood grain pattern on the paneling behind her daughter.

"Lydia," she breathed. "We've been trying to reach my father for months and he never answers. How—are you alright?"

"Grandpa says that I'm too much to handle on top of his other duties," Lydia said, the tone holding the same smugness that her father could conjure in a moment. "He's been stretched thin trying to attend to my studies while dealing with everything else."

"Everything else?" Rodan asked, sliding off the bed where he had been stretched out to read his astronomy text. "What happened?" There was an expression on his face that Maeve hated to see, a panged sort of longing.

Lydia licked her lips and fidgeted a little where she stood. She wore a simple pair of black pants and black tunic, her arms and feet bare, her hair loose.

Without second-guessing herself, Maeve opened up her other sight, the one that stemmed from her father's power. She beheld Lydia and knew much had happened in a short time. Blinking back the afterimages burned into her eyes, Maeve felt tears well.

Her daughter was no longer scarred. No longer a broken thing.

But she was also no longer alive, not in the way she had been.

"You've healed," she said.

"Yes," Lydia agreed. "It took a long time. It's been longer for me, I think, then it has been for you. Almost a year. Grandpa has been helping." Her black eyes were fixed on Maeve. "I'm sorry, mama, but you should never go back to Earth. They know you well, now, and it will never again be the place we both remember."

Maeve had placed barriers and locks upon the pathways that lead to the Realms, ensuring that anything from Earth or beyond would have to be noticed by her before gaining entrance to her home. Rodan had considered the measures semi-extreme, but had taught her the necessary spellwork.

She was still learning how to delegate the spell so others could share in the necessity of allowing visitors in and out of her world. They were in trade negotiations with some of the other Fae ruled planets, and then there was Lascia. Elias went back and forth, as did Trinity and Langdon. The time difference was enough that sometimes Maeve had been startled out of wakefulness with a pressure on her senses, an entreat to gain entry to the Realms.

"I was planning to return if Gladys needed it, at the least," she said gently. "And your father and I still need to find that man who?—"

"My killer has been delivered to me," Lydia cut in. "He was marked in the culling, and brought in with a wave of new dead. You don't need to return to Earth for him."

Swallowing hard, Maeve said, "I'm sorry. We promised we would."

"It's alright," Lydia soothed. "All is well. You'll see, one day. This is where I'm meant to be, and everything happened the way it was supposed to." She glanced over her shoulder, as though hearing something, then smiled at them both. "I have to go soon. I'll stay in touch as much as I can."

Maeve stood, coming closer to the sending. "We would like that. Very much."

Lydia's sending tucked her hair behind her ear, glancing at the floor. "You understand it can't be much until—well, never mind." She smiled a little, then whipped around to look over her shoulder again before turning back to Maeve and Rodan. "I have to go. I'm sorry. I love you both."

Rodan stepped forward, looking about to say something, but the sending vanished, and they were once more alone.

Maeve let out a choked sound, and next she knew she was being held, Rodan running a hand down the back of her head and down her spine. Shuddering, clutching at the shirt over his chest, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "I hate this."

"I know. I do too."

Blame was too easy to place, but belonged to none.

The ones truly at the heart of all this, the ones still on Tartarus, would face retribution one day. Maeve was terrified at the idea of Rodan going back to that world and facing his tormentors, but one way or the other they had to ensure the threat was neutralized.

That, too, was for another day.

Maeve let Rodan lead her to the bed, his strong hands running along her arms and back, smoothing the flyaway hairs from her face. He got on it with her, curling his body around hers.

She remembered all the times he had assured her, telling her, you can be however you need to be, if it's just you and me.

Clutching his hand, she watched the light change from midday to late afternoon. Rodan sang and hummed, and sometimes was soft and silent, simply holding her.

When she at last twisted to face him, she wanted to talk about anything aside from what had just happened. "How is your pupil?"

A slight smile. "You wish to know of Aesa? I think she's doing fairly well. Would you like to see?"

Maeve nodded, and next she got several images through the bond, like silent movies of a young girl summoning objects to soar across the room, to balance against the pull of gravity, and some basic potion-making sessions. "I look forward to working with her more." Rodan said.

She pulled away from the images and knowledge. "Will you train others?"

"I might."

"I want to join you. Once I've done something with Jen, and understand what I'm doing."

"You're a natural, and these people do not have anyone. Not since Sebastian's reign." He smoothed a hand along her hair. "They could use you."

"Josalyn was saying she's thinking of opening a school of her own, on the islands."

"I can't believe you gave her three."

"They're tiny," she argued. "Combined they're half the size of Realmsgate. But she seemed willing to take on the challenge. They've been without human habitation for centuries."

"That was a close thing, the boon," Rodan murmured, pressing lips to her forehead. "We were lucky, this time."

"I think Josalyn is quite pragmatic," she whispered back, not wanting to break the spell of his mouth on her skin. "I also think we should build a college."

"Do you now?" His grip on her tightened a little, and she rocked against him, causing him to give a slow, knowing smile. "Perhaps," he said in a low voice. "We could have the campus and the museum be in the same region. It would make sense. For study."

Maeve made a small noise of ascent, and then she was kissing him, and he was reciprocating.

Their lovemaking was slow, sensuous, and everything she needed in the moment. They moved together until the suns slanted to sunset, then fell asleep in each other's arms.

Maeve woke after a short, dreamless few hours while the dark indigo-gray light of pre-dawn was still upon the world. Slipping from the bed, careful not to disturb Rodan, she pulled a blanket off the back of a chair and wrapped it around herself.

There was a bench seat on the front porch of the cabin. She curled on it, making for herself a mug of strong honeyed tea, the steam floating in the crisp air.

By the time it was cool enough to drink, the light of Tegal and then Rizor were beginning to edge Mount Draguvian in molten gold. Birdsong echoed around her, cacophonous in comparison to the stripped areas near the castle.

Not for long , she thought. We are going to heal this land.

They had already begun.

Insects trilled. Fish leaped out of the lake, and on a distant shore she could see a herd of elk, their racks silvered by the dawns light.

The morning smelled of life and renewal, of birth and death and the infinite dance of the universe.

Maeve knew there was no such thing as safe. Knew it in her bones, and yet—there was such a thing as belonging, family, community. Those things were a haven in the stormy sea of life. They were the ship one built to withstand the pounding of the waves.

She had found that here. So long ago, and even stronger now.

Rodan. Jen, Troy, Pike, Lizette, Corra, Elias, Gladys, and so many others were starting to become like a song she wanted to hear on repeat. A haven for her soul.

The Realms themselves were hers, its people and its valleys, its mountains, the seas and lakes and rivers. It was hers, and she would do everything she could to protect it, to ensure those she shared her life with were filled with joy and happiness.

Great and small, the Realms were filled with wonders. So many of them she had yet to discover.

She had no doubt that some would terrify her.

Others would delight.

She also knew that, no matter what, she would not face any of it alone.

Maeve smiled to herself, set down the tea, and went back inside, closing the door silently behind her.

She was home.

The End