Epilogue

"Where are you taking me?" Evander questioned as Marcos led him through the Castle proper.

"It has been a very long fortnight," Marcos said, reaching out and tangling his fingers with Evander's. "You have been busy playing mediator between far too many of our brothers. You have earned an evening off."

"Perhaps so," Evander conceded, "but I still want to know where you are taking me."

Marcos grinned. "You cannot decipher my secret?"

Evander rolled his eyes. "You wish me to be surprised, and therefore, I must make it clear that I am desperately curious where we are going. This is how it works, correct?"

"Yes," Marcos said with a chuckle, leading him towards the main Conclave chamber and its portal.

Just a few weeks ago, they all had stood in this same chamber, re-dedicating themselves to the Guardians' true purpose, with the Mother overseeing their pledge. It had not been easy afterwards, and Marcos was right—there had been many long days. Hektor was still suspicious. Hyperion was angry—but then Hyperion was perennially angry, so Evander supposed that not much had changed. But Jae was healing, and so were the broken connections in the Conclave. And Evander was discovering that despite his own initial beliefs, Marcos was actually quite adept at politics, when he turned his attention to them.

"Imagine, only a month or so ago, I was bored out of my mind," Evander said as they approached the portal.

"Bored and lonely," Marcos teased. "And now look at you."

They came to a stop in front of the Well. Evander turned towards Marcos. "I could not have done it without you," he said seriously. "Your support has been invaluable." He hesitated. "Your support and your love."

"You will have both, forever," Marcos replied, squeezing Evander's hand with his own.

"Come, then, and show me your surprise," Evander said.

Marcos tugged him forward. One moment, they were standing at the edge of the Well, and the next, they were falling through it, and when Evander opened his eyes again, he was shocked at how familiar this felt.

Once before he'd fallen through the Well, and awoken in this valley.

This valley that was as familiar to him as the Castle. A home that had stood in for the one that he'd lost.

"I wanted you," Marcos said, rising to his knees, staring out at the endless waving grasses surrounding them, "to show me the place you lived, when you were on the surface."

"You never came here, not even in disguise?" Evander couldn't help his surprise.

Marcos shook his head. "It felt like yours, and like I would be trespassing, even to come here as someone else." He hesitated. "And, I hoped, even though I had every faith that it would come to pass, that you might show me yourself, someday."

"Who knew that you were such a romantic at heart?" Evander teased lightly.

"Nobody, except you." Marcos' dark eyes were very serious. Very intent.

Evander leaned forward and pressed their lips together. Sometimes Marcos got lost in all the regrets of the past—he too, could spend far too much time there—but they were good at bringing each other back, now.

Or at least, they were getting better at it.

Evander hardly needed an excuse to want to kiss him, but it was a good reminder for both of them.

They had each other now, and what had occurred years ago mattered much less than that one unassailable fact.

Marcos groaned into his mouth a little, angling his body closer to Evander's, and Evander realized just how long it had been since they'd been alone.

Too long.

Yes, indeed, Marcos echoed in his head.

"The first buildings that I labored so hard to build are long gone," Evander said, turning away and looking out into the fields, at the far west, where the sun was beginning to sink below the trees. The sky was a riotous celebration of yellows, golds, and oranges. "But the ones Gray built still stand."

"He would hardly countenance anything else," Marcos observed.

"He did build to last. That is how Gray is, and why I have always believed he will make an excellent king."

Marcos nodded. "But," Evander continued, "you did not bring me here to talk about Gray."

"No, nor Rory, or Fontaine, or even the Ardglassian clans. And definitely not any of the problems still plaguing the Conclave," Marcos said.

"You wanted a night away," Evander guessed.

Marcos nodded solemnly. "The burden lies heavy on your shoulders. I knew it would, but it's good to give yourself a break, every once in a while." His expression brightened. "And," he added, "Rory mentioned a whole field of bluebells, here in this valley, that matched Gray's eyes almost exactly. And I thought, I will stand with you in it, and marvel at your beauty, and marvel at the luck that you are mine."

Evander knew the field he talked of. "Yes," he said simply. "We will." He stood and held out his hand. "Come, my love, and I will show you."

The walk to the field was short, and as they passed the various outbuildings that Gray had spent his childhood and young adulthood building and maintaining, Evander talked of the time they had spent here together. "I did not mean to become his father," he concluded as they finally reached the stream, with its little footbridge. "But I suppose I did."

"You protected him, and kept him company, kept him from becoming too wretched and bitter at his circumstances," Marcos said. "That is a father, whether you meant to be one or not."

Evander nodded.

The bluebells stretched out in every direction.

"This," Evander said, gesturing as they came into the thick of them, "is where I fell."

"When you were banished?" Marcos questioned.

"Yes." Evander gazed out at the flowers' beauty. Remembering how he'd lain here for so long. For months. Not wanting to go on, but knowing, deep down, that he had no other choice. "I wanted to give up."

"But you never did," Marcos said, tugging him closer, until his arms encircled his waist. "I am grateful that you are so stubborn."

"I am the grateful one." Evander gazed up at Marcos' face—it had not always been so beloved to him, but now it was, and he couldn't imagine a time in the future when he felt less love for this man, only more. "If you hadn't been the most stubborn Guardian in the Conclave . . . we would not be here today."

"It would be a loss," Marcos agreed. Leaned down, and touched his forehead to Evander's. "I would be lost without you."

"Then promise me," Evander said softly, "vow to me, that we will be together always."

"Are you . . ." Marcos looked surprised. "Are you committing yourself to me?"

Evander nodded. "Here, in a place where I felt the worst of all my years, I would feel the best."

"I vow," Marcos, said, reaching down and tangling their fingers together, "that I will be only yours."

"And I," Evander repeated, voice none too steady, "will be yours, everlasting."

Don't want to leave Evander, Marcos, Gray and Rory behind? Make sure to download the bonus scene here.