Epilogue one

EPILOGUE ONE

S tone

Six months later

We open the door and are greeted by a billow of smoke and the stench of burning.

“Shit!” Azlan says, waving his hand in front of his face. “Is someone trying to burn down my house?”

Behind us Rhi coughs, then whips the smoke away with a twist of her fingers, and wiggles past us all.

“Renzo said something about cooking.”

“Jeez,” Tristan says, combing his fingers through his hair and yawning. “I was hoping for takeout. Today’s round of negotiations have done me in.”

“And there’s never enough food,” Spencer whines. “Seven hours of peace talks and only a measly sandwich for lunch.”

“There was plenty of food,” Rhi says, pulling off her boots. “You just have big appetites.”

The four of us grin at her, all thinking about what we definitely do have big appetites for.

She rolls her eyes at us, and trots down the hallway, calling as she does: “We’re home!”

Immediately, Renzo comes crashing out of the kitchen, his hands encased in oven mitts, a striped apron tied around his waist and what looks like flour in his hair.

I do a double-take. It’s been six months and I’m still getting used to the assassin looking so domestic. He has a talent and enjoyment for potion-brewing – in fact, along with Rhi, it seems to have replaced his compulsion for killing. Unfortunately for us, he seems to think if he’s good at potions, he should be good at cooking. That hasn’t proven to be the case, but Rhi’s forcing us to eat all his concoctions with a smile on our faces regardless. Even if the last one tasted remarkably like horseshit.

“Hey, little rabbit, I baked cookies. And there’s lasagna in the oven.”

She smiles at him and goes to wrap him in a kiss.

I shake my head and pinch my thigh, hard. I have quite a selection of bruises from that action, because it’s still pretty unbelievable how everything has turned out and most days I wonder if I’m dreaming.

Six months ago the republic was under Christopher Kennedy’s reign of terror. Six months ago we were on the run because he wanted us dead. Six months ago we narrowly escaped becoming the permanent Sources for a coven of powerful dark vampires.

Now, we’re living peacefully – well most of the time – at Azlan’s house. It’s probably only temporary. The house isn’t big enough for five men our size but Tristan isn’t keen on claiming his father’s house. In fact, he’d like to knock it down.

Maybe we’ll move out to the countryside. Set up a farm with a bunch of pigs and chickens. Maybe we’ll end up living in the West. They need help out there to re-establish the workings of the city and the wider country now the ones running it are gone.

But for now, we’re needed here for these talks. Things are changing. We’re no longer at war. The threat from the West has gone. The troops stationed at the border have been disbanded and sent home.

Things are changing.

Of course, some people don’t want things to change. There was talk of a new chancellor. A lot of people assumed it would be Rhi – the living embodiment of Queen ?eelfl?d, once again taking her crown.

But that’s not Rhi, and she’s argued adamantly for a fairer set-up, even as other candidates were put forward. We’re pushing for a council – one where everyone is represented – weres, magicals, non-magicals alike. Not just the old, rich families.

I tug off my own boots and go to wait patiently while Renzo nuzzles Rhi’s throat.

“I missed you, little rabbit,” he mutters. “These talks are going on forever.”

“Tell me about it,” Spencer says.

“I think we made progress today, though.” Rhi extracts herself from Renzo’s grasp, and taking his hand, leads him into the kitchen. All of us follow, flopping down into chairs around the kitchen table. It’s a squeeze to say the least, my elbows knocking against Tristan’s on one side and Azlan’s on the other.

In front of us lies a plate of objects that look like they’ve been cremated.

“Are those the cookies?” Tristan asks warily. I guess you never know with Renzo. There’s a good chance he may have been torturing mice today as well as cooking.

“Yep, double chocolate chip,” he says, proudly. “I’ll make us all coffee.”

Azlan jerks upright onto his feet. “I’ll make it.” The last round of coffee Renzo made had us all buzzing for two days straight.

Renzo takes Azlan’s vacated seat and pats his thigh. Obediently – because it’s only me she likes playing the brat for – Rhi settles on his lap and bravely takes the burned-crisp of a cookie. She takes a big bite at it with a grin.

“Delicious,” she says, then glares at us all. We all take one too, nibbling at the edges and murmuring nondescript compliments.

Renzo’s gaze spins round us all and you can see the pride dancing in his mismatched eyes. The dude’s still as mad as a box of frogs, but he’s definitely growing on me. I may even go as far as saying I like his company.

“So what was the breakthrough?” he asks as Azlan places cups of piping hot coffee in front of each of us.

“Did you add sugar?” Rhi asks, peering up at him.

“You know it’ll rot your teeth?” he says.

“Yep.”

“Two spoons of sugar and cream,” he says, handing her a cup.

“You have him well trained,” I say, winking at her.

“She has us all well trained.” Spencer grins.

“Anyway,” Rhi says, drawing her attention back to Renzo and his question. “The representatives from the West were there again today. There was real talk about uniting the two countries.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” Renzo asks.

“I think so,” she says. “It’s not those other people’s fault what my dad and his cronies were doing. They need our help and I think there are things we can learn from them too.”

Rhi swallows down the last of her cookie with a large gulp of coffee and peers towards the back window.

“Have you seen the dragons today?” she asks Renzo.

“Not today, little rabbit.”

“That’s a week,” Azlan says.

Her gaze falls back to her coffee cup. “They’ve never been away so long. Maybe they’re not coming back this time.”

“I think they’ll be back, Rhi. You know what Mrs. Hollyhill thinks – there’s a bond between you.”

“She also thinks Gwenhwyfar was stolen from her home. Maybe they’ve flown back there.”

For all her talk of setting the dragons free, of giving them their freedom to fly back to wherever they come from, I know she’s going to miss them. She may have five fated mates now – five fated mates who absolutely adore her – but she misses having a pet. It’s been six months and she’s still grieving Pip.

Which reminds me.

I glance at Renzo and try to say as casually as I can: “Did that … erm … parcel arrive today?”

It’s no use though. Rhi is too quick. You can’t get anything past her.

“What parcel?” she says, gaze shooting up, eyes alert.

“Just a delivery.”

“What delivery?” Her eyes narrow .

“I’ll go get it,” Renzo says, lifting Rhi straight from his lap and onto Tristan’s.

“Am I going to like this?” Rhi asks.

“I think so, Miss Blackwaters,” I tell her.

“There’s no more room for books,” Azlan tells me.

“It’s not a book.”

“Are you sure, Professor? You really do like books!” I can’t deny that I may have brought one or two (make that several scores) of books with me when we moved in. I didn’t like leaving them behind.

“Know what else I like, Miss Blackwaters?” I say, darkly, leaning towards her.

Seven hours was a long time to be talking, hands to myself, my fated mate all the way on the opposite side of the table from me.

However, I don’t get a chance to show her just what I like because Renzo returns with the parcel. The box jiggles slightly in his grasp and there are scuffing sounds from inside. He places it on the kitchen table and Rhi looks at us all with suspicion, reaching forward to undo the big bow and draw back the flaps. She leans forward to peer inside. Then shrieks so loudly we all jump a mile off our chairs.

“A kitten?!” She dips her hands inside and pulls out a wriggling black ball of fluff with a pair of big round eyes. “Oh my goodness, he’s adorable.”

“She,” I correct.

“We didn’t talk about this,” Azlan says.

I shrug.

“I don’t like cats,” Spencer says, leaning away from the thing.

“What?” Rhi says, thrusting the fluff ball in his face. “How could you not like an adorable little thing like this?”

Spencer grimaces and the kitten swipes at his nose .

“Feisty,” Tristan observes.

“You’ll get used to it,” I tell the others.

Rhi hugs the kitten tightly to her chest and kisses its little head. “I’m going to call her Coco.”

“Is it litter trained?” Azlan asks.

“Probably,” I say.

Rhi jumps to her feet. “I have to go call Winnie. And Ellie. They are going to want to come round for kitty snuggles.”

I catch her around the waist.

“Invite them round tomorrow,” I tell her.

“But–”

“Tomorrow,” Tristan confirms. “We want some time alone with you, Piglet.”

She nods and then scurries away to find her phone.

“Are these talks really going well?” Renzo says, scratching at his neck. “Little rabbit likes to look at the world through rose-tinted glasses and all that shit. There are plenty of fuckers who won’t want to hand over the power they have.”

“Several of those fuckers are locked up.” I say. “And you know Rhi. She can be pretty damn persuasive.”

“Pretty damn insistent,” Tristan says. “It was only her pleas to the special tribunal that prevented Summer from being sent to the Northern Labor Camp alongside my dad and all the rest of his supporters.”

“I still think she should have been sent there too,” Spencer mutters. “That girl will always be trouble.”

“She can’t cause a lot of trouble under permanent house-arrest,” I point out. “And without her powers.”

Rhi’s special gift has been pretty useful. Removing the powers of those that have abused them. It’s seemed a particularly fitting punishment .

Tristan looks like he might argue once again that Summer will always be a danger, with or without her powers, when Rhi returns, the kitten now curled up in her arms and snoring peacefully.

“She’s asleep,” she whispers.

“Yeah, she spent most of the day doing that,” Renzo says, peering down with curiosity at the cat.

“I know she’s not Pip. Or a dragon …” I say.

“She’s …” she hesitates, then giggles, “purrfect.”

“When you finally graduate from the academy, do not pursue a career in comedy, Miss Blackwaters. Stick to riding dragons and fighting bad guys.”

“You think they’ll reopen Arrow Hart?” Spencer asks.

“I’m going to ensure they do. Learning isn’t only about becoming a good soldier. We need to make sure the next generation of magicals is well educated, and proficient at spell casting and–”

“Okay, okay.” Spencer blows out his cheeks. “I forget you’re a teacher sometimes.”

“Thank you, Phoenix,” Rhi says, stroking the kitten’s tiny ears. “She’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Erm,” Tristan says, raising his eyebrow at her.

“Meh,” Rhi teases. “You’re the second cutest.”

“Are you doing favorites now?” Spencer leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Because I think I’m pretty darn cute.”

“You’re 6 ft 4 and built like a fridge.” Tristan punches his friend on the arm.

“He’s still cute,” Rhi points out. “You all are. It’s one of the many reasons I love you all.”

I look at Renzo, scars and tats zig zagging his face and his neck. Then I look at Azlan, dark eyes, square jaw, neck wider than most men’s thighs. Not sure cute is the adjective I’d use.

“You know this makes us an official family now,” I tell them all.

“It does?” Rhi says.

“Yep. We have a pet. It’s a done deal. There’s no getting rid of us now. You’re stuck with us for life, Miss Blackwaters.”

She smiles. Her honey eyes – the ones I’ve always found so beautiful, so darn irresistible – shine brightly. She’s not the girl she once was – scared, alone, fighting for survival, unable to trust anyone. Sure, she’s still the same stubborn, persistent and occasionally chaotic brat she’s always been, but there’s a calmness about her now, a contentment. It radiates from her.

I think we did that. All of us.

I think she did it too.

I bet there are a lot of other people out there too, feeling happier, safer because of her.

“Stuck with all of you?” she says. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”