Epilogue

DAELLA

THREE MONTHS LATER

The full moon illuminated our path along the beach. Side by side, Rivelin and I strode along the coarse sand as the salty waves lapped at our bare feet. Skoll trotted along beside us, occasionally darting into the woods to investigate a new scent. A breeze from the open sea brought a brief respite from the humid summer heat. Life was better than ever.

Not long after Midsummer, Thuri left with her warriors back to Fafnir, and village life returned to normal. Everyone agreed to excuse Rivelin’s sword-crafting. He was the Defender of Wyndale, after all, and he could have blades, just in case. A tranquility had settled over the quiet roads, and I awoke each day to the sound of birdsong and the warmth of the morning sun on my face—and Rivelin’s strong arms wrapped around me.

He’d insisted I move in as a permanent resident of the house, and I hadn’t argued. There was nowhere else I’d rather be.

By day, we worked in the forge. In the evenings, we often hosted guests, like Haldor and his husband or Kari and Godfrey, who had started seeing each other not long after Midsummer. Mabel came by most days to say hello, drop off treats for Aska, or read through my orcish history book with me. Lilia had packed up her wagon and headed north to Riverwold. I’d sent her off with the Vindur sand—I thought she might need it more than I did. I knew Rivelin missed her, but his sister was a wanderer, and he’d never try to keep her from following her heart.

A thunderous boom rent the quiet night. Smiling, I looked up to see Aska’s red-scaled belly passing low overhead. She swooped by on her glorious wings and loosed a bellow that I’d come to understand.

“Hello to you, too, Aska,” I whispered up at her, already looking forward to the next time we soared through the sky. We usually went flying together a few times a week. It might just be my favorite thing to do now—after spending time with Rivelin, of course.

“Have you noticed she comes out here every time we do?” Rivelin asked.

I patted the dagger at my side, where it hung next to my bag of salt. It felt right for it to be there again, even if I hoped to never use it. “It’s because she knows we’re on patrol. She wants to help.”

“Well, she wouldspot a ship before we would.”

Rivelin slung an arm around my shoulder as we continued down the silent stretch of beach, searching for any waterlogged folk crawling out of the surf. We came out here every few nights when there was a bite in the air, like tonight. The Elding had shifted its attention to the northern side of the island just after Midsummer, but it would head back this way soon, now that summer was fading fast.

When we reached the end of our patrol, I took one last look at the sea before putting on my boots and following Rivelin down the path to Wyndale. Skoll bounded off for his nightly hunt. We’d see him in the morning.

“Do you ever feel disappointed that we haven’t found anyone yet?” I asked Rivelin as we fell into step beside each other.

He looked at me, surprised. “Do you?”

“I was lost and desperate when the Elding attacked my ship,” I said. “But we were miles from Hearthaven. Thuri and everyone else ended up back in Fafnir, but I washed up here on this beach. Sometimes, I think the magic of the island somehow brought me here on purpose. It heard my desperation and it saved me.” I sighed and continued. “There will be other lost souls out there who are just as desperate as I was. I hope the magic sweeps them up in the tide so they can have a chance at a different kind of life, like I do now.”

Rivelin slowed on the path and palmed my face. In a murmur, he said, “You, Daella the Blacksmith, are a lot softer than you want everyone to believe.”

I smiled at the memory of all those weeks ago when I’d said the very same thing to him. “Blacksmith, eh?”

“Well, you’re certainly not a murk.”

“Hmm.” I lifted my hand and ran my fingers through his silken strands. “Does that mean I’m your official partner? Perhaps we should add my name to the sign.”

“You can add your name to anything of mine you’d like.” He tugged me closer, then slid a familiar bracelet around my wrist—the one we’d made together all those months ago. “Because I want you, Daella Sigursdottir, to become my wife. I don’t care that we’ve known each other for little more than four months. I know the heart of you, the fact you are kind and strong and fearless in the face of adversity. You see the good in things, even when life has gifted you with nothing but cruelty. My love for you is endless, so all-consuming I cannot truly breathe when you’re not near. And all I want is to spend the rest of my life trying to make you smile.”

“You’re pretty poetic, for a blacksmith.” Heart pounding, I whispered, “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“With every fiber of my being.”

I gazed up at him, at this man who had changed my life in ways I never could have imagined. To be happy and free and in love, it had always been a dream. Someone else’s fate, but never mine.

“Yes, Rivelin,” I said with tears of joy filling my eyes. “I’m all yours.”

My smile felt as bright as the stars.

* * *

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Brewed in Magic

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