First Epilogue

Calen

Staring out of my bedroom window, I sigh heavily as I touch the ring on my finger, the jewel Az wore until he died and a symbol of the position I now occupy. He should be here, leading our people, not buried in the palace garden beside Ela.

I close my eyes, losing myself to the memories of our wild adventures. I can almost feel the warm air of the shitty taverns we used to go to and taste the ale on my tongue from the nights we spent celebrating a victorious battle. We were on top of the world, convinced we had eternity to fulfill our dreams.

A bittersweet longing aches in my chest at the recollection, but I roughly push the reminiscence away when my door opens.

“Hey.”

Vesta’s mere presence eases the heartbreak.

“Any news from Mor?” I ask, keeping my back to her.

“He and Naar are making progress towards a peaceful transition of power in Zetrea. Elections will be held in the coming months.”

“Good.”

“Mor must hate your guts right now, sending him there to keep an eye on things,” Vesta adds in a playful tone.

“The old bastard almost volunteered. He is on his second honeymoon right now, though he’ll never admit it,” I say with a chuckle, before clearing my throat. “Is everything ready?”

Queen Aanor, Tharrion, and Irann should be in Averion tomorrow. Airdan’s attack brought our nations closer, and although it’s taken almost a year to build a solid baseline of trust with the humans, I’m hopeful. If nothing goes wrong, her visit will bring us one step closer to long lasting peace and unity.

“Yes, High Lord,” Vesta answers teasingly.

“Don’t call me that in here.” I sigh. “Please.”

She remains silent, but her footsteps fill the room until she slides her arms around my back to hug me from behind.

“It’s been months, Cal.” Vesta rests her head against my back. “You’re more than deserving of the title.”

I take a deep breath before undoing the knot of her arms around my middle and turning to face her.

“You’ve earned it,” she continues.

I screw my eyes shut, letting her words sink in and her sultry voice chase the demons away.

“I know,” I finally let out. “I just thought Az would be here for this. This was his dream.”

“Our dream. We all shared it.”

“Yes, but it was never meant to be me. High Lord.” I huff as I utter the title I now carry.

“And yet, here you are, walking in his footsteps and finishing what he started.” Her lips find mine to deposit a soft kiss. “No one else is better suited for the task, and you know it.”

“He would have been.” I shake my head, wishing the pit in my stomach would disappear.

“And Ela would have absolutely hated all this,” Vesta says.

Laughter tears through my throat and pride shines in her eyes.

“True.” I chuckle. “She really would have hated it and been a major pain in my ass.”

I can almost picture it. Ela storming through the palace’s corridors, going crazy from being cooped up in here, and pouring all her bottled-up frustration into her attitude or by sneaking out unnoticed, leaving chaos and panicked aides in her wake.

“There it is.” Vesta touches the corner of my lips, now lifted into a smile. “This brooding High Lord act doesn’t really suit you.”

“And what does?”

“You’re more of the charming and handsome type.”

“Handsome, hm?” I cock a brow in question.

“Very.”

Vesta’s lips hover over mine, teasing me until I close the distance. Pressing my mouth against hers, I forget the world around us.

I devour her delicious lips, probing with my tongue as she drags her fingers down my shoulders and neck. Pressure builds at the base of my stomach when she catches the edge of my shirt and pulls the piece of fabric over my head.

We lock eyes and her gaze reveals the fire burning between her legs.

Determination sets in, and with a finger, I take the thin strap of her dress and slip it off her shoulder.

Her mouth parts slightly as her hands roam my chest and I slowly take care of the other strap. The fabric slips off her stunning body, leaving her bare before me.

A low growl leaves my lips when my gaze lands on the tiny piece of black fabric left around her hips.

“You don’t like it?” Vesta bats her eyelashes at me.

“I love it, and I’ll love it even more when it’s on the floor.”

Her chuckle fills the air as I kiss her cheek slowly before moving to her neck. When I bite at the tender skin, her breath catches in her throat.

I lower myself, covering her warm body in soft kisses until my knees hit the rug.

Caressing her legs and the backs of her thighs with my fingers, I slow down my kisses as I near her middle. Each touch finds its mark, and each touch elicits a soft moan.

When I’m on the verge of giving in to her silent demands, I look up.

“Do you enjoy the sight of me kneeling before you, Dove?”

A wide smile appears on her face, disorienting me with her beauty. Damned woman. I’ll crawl to the ends of this earth for her, and she knows it.

“I love you.”

I let the words roll off my tongue easily, enjoying each syllable. I’ll never get tired of saying it, or hearing her say it back. I finally understand now. After losing so much, I get it. If this is all we ever share, I am perfectly content.

Acceptance rings in my heart, and something in me is unchained, set free. Pure bliss courses through my veins, setting my entire body on fire.

“I love you,” she answers, tears glistening in her eyes.

With these words, she owns my entire being, body and soul.

I used to think I could never deserve such devotion, but I’ve grown to forgive and love myself enough to see through the web of deceit I sowed over my heart. She is the only one to whom I’d give such power over me. I’ll spend the rest of my days worshipping her.

“Cal.” Vesta is still smiling, a twinkle of amusement in her teary eyes as her words echo once more. “I love you.”

My mouth drops open, for hers hasn’t moved in a minute.

Later that day, I walk into Azran’s old office, left perfectly intact since we came back from Daenia months ago. I couldn’t bring myself to disturb the space he’s occupied for so long.

The leather couch still bears the marks of its many occupants. The bookshelves have been dusted recently. Everything is in its place, the room displaying an illusion of normalcy, except for the absence of embers in the hearth or papers on the wooden desk.

The large package I had delivered here weeks ago still rests against a wall, untouched and sealed. I glance at the rectangular shape before turning on my heels to leave.

With my hand on the door handle, I freeze. Although I hate to admit it, I know it is time.

Summoning my courage, I change course and reach for the package. Once in my hands, I know there is no turning back.

My fingers press its edge as I walk to the desk, feeling a wooden frame beneath the paper.

Putting it down, I gently remove the wrapper to reveal the artwork hiding under.

Water fills my eyes as Azran and Ela look back at me, their faces perfectly captured in the portrait. I swallow the lump in my throat as I contemplate the painting, and my stomach twists with angst.

Azran’s eyebrows are relaxed, his features peaceful, looking lovingly at Ela smiling back at him. A chuckle escapes my lips. Gods know these two spent more time arguing and wielding swords than anyone else. The portrait is beautiful. Neither knew rest and ease in life, but they deserve to find it in death.

“Wherever you are, brother, may you be at peace, her soul forever entwined with yours,” I whisper to the empty room, and the pressure in my chest alleviates.

A knock sounds on the door moments later.

“Come in,” I answer.

“High Lord.” Wyn bows to me, and for the first time, it doesn’t feel so wrong. “Should I have the meeting moved to the usual room?”

I pause to look around the office before answering.

“No. Have everyone come here.”

“Very well, High Lord.”

“Thank you.”

Wyn nods before exiting the room and I glance at the portrait.

“I’ll make you proud, Az, but I can’t promise I’ll be as uptight as you.”

The ghost of his laughter echoes in my head and a smile tugs the corners of my mouth.