Epilogue

Alistair

"What are we going to do with Patrick while Miela is here on Saturday?"

"I could always take him back to the orchard," I offer. He won't be able to get back inside my apartment—I actually bother to lock my windows, unlike Lilith. Patrick is living here of my own goodwill, and because I think—secretly—he makes my darling happy. She might huff and puff about him getting into her apartment repeatedly, but that's just because she never caught on to the fact that the toadstools were the ones doing it. I think she considers him some kind of strange pet now.

"No, that's okay," she says quickly, confirming my suspicions, and glances past me toward my bedroom. Our bedroom. "We can just move the pot into the bedroom and shut the door while she's here, to spare him from more toddler harassment." Miela's aggressive affection for unsuspecting wildlife is genetically coded into her very being, as far as I can tell. She's a potent mix of her mother's sylvan affinity for small living things, as well as her mischievousness and sass, with a solid dose of her father's orcish tenacity and temper. She couldn't be more perfect.

"What time is Hyrak bringing her?" Lilith asks.

"Before his shift starts at noon," I tell her as I unpack her drink from the sack I'm holding. "I just told the barista to make you your regular."

"Oh, thank you! Hey, what's the deal with you and Hyrak, anyway? Things seemed a little tense that one night at the bar. Is he jealous of your friendship with Solandis?"

"He is an orc," I answer with a shrug. Orcs are well known for their ferocious jealousy of their mates. Hyrak isn't a full-blooded orc, and thankfully, his instincts seem to fall on the milder side. I've known some rather bestial orcs, but I have to admit his frontal cortex is a little more developed than usual. "Don't worry," I assure her. "We have an understanding."

"What's that?" she asks, taking a sip of her smoothie. "Oh, that's delicious. He made it perfectly," she murmurs, her pleasure over even this small thing thrilling me to my core. "Do you mean, like, that you're Solandis's best friend and Hyrak is her lover and you should support each other? That's really mature—"

"Oh." I shake my head and scoff. "No. Mostly that he could crush my exoskeleton with his bare hands and I could drop him from a very great height," I explain blithely with a wave of one of my hands. "Also, he likes my apples."

She barks a laugh, muttering something under her breath that sounds like, "Men are dumb," but she's smiling as she says it.

I ignore her comment and pull out a chair to take a seat at the table next to the light of my life, dragging my knitting toward me so I have something to do with my hands while we chat. Lilith has asked for her own version of my hand-made chunky-knit blanket, and I am happy to oblige. I can knit them in half the time by knitting them in two panels, one with each set of hands, then stitching them together.

"Speaking of your apples," she starts, and I glance up at her from my project, "I was thinking about adding a little refreshments area, like a little bistro, at the nursery. I could use your amazing Moon Blush to make some custom hand-pressed juice blends, like apple and pomegranate, or apple and mango."

My horrified gasp causes her to whip her head up. "That's atrocious! You would sully my precious Moon Blush with something as inferior as pomegranate?" What would be next? Actual garbage?

She rolls her eyes and swats at me with the sack from her drink. "You dork. Help me find an apple press."

"Fine." This right here is proof of my love for her. "Actually, I think I might have a good source of pomegranates for you," I admit with a smile. I might not like them as much as apples, but I like that she is looking toward the future and thinking about building her life here. With me.

*