Epilogue

Five years later

MAB COULD HEAR THE screaming from the top of the stairs.

She looked up at the portrait of William’s mother and prayed for strength as she gripped hold of the railing tightly and painstakingly made her way down the swooping marble stairways. By the time she reached the bottom and crossed the hallway, the screaming abruptly stopped.

Mab took a deep breath before she slowly opened the door to the drawing room.

Bodies littered every surface.

Tilly was sprawled across a chaise longue, one arm draped over her face while the other hung limply off the side, her knuckles brushing the Persian rug underneath. Martha sat propped up on the windowsill, her eyes staring blankly into the room while her mouth hung open. Martin lay sprawled on the floor underneath her in a heap, clutching his heart with one hand, his other pointing towards his wife as if he had spent his last dying breath trying to reach her.

Benedict was stretched across the piano as if he’d been stabbed in the back while in the middle of a jaunty tune, while her father had died in a nearby chair, his fingers still plugging his ears.

A mass of black, tan and grey fur that resembled a barrel lay beside the fireplace, belly up, his three legs at odd angles. Mab was unsure if Tilly’s ancient Rottweiler, Brutus, had fallen afoul of the massacre, or had simply fallen asleep.

Mab turned her head to the right and saw William, the love of her life, slumped in his chair, his eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling. One hand rested upon the newspaper he’d been reading, the other carefully clutching the sleeping form of their dark-haired daughter, Sarah.

A movement from the far corner of the room caught Mab’s attention.

Her niece, Daphne, sat in an armchair, casually flicking through a novel and completely disinterested in the carnage that surrounded her.

“Die, dragon! Die!”

Before Mab had the chance to react, Keir leapt out from behind her, striking Mab gently in the side with his wooden sword.

Mab waddled forward. “Oh no! You got me!”

“You’re supposed to die now, Auntie, and fall to the floor,” Keir whispered.

“I am eight months pregnant, Keir. If I get on the floor, I will not be getting back up again.”

“Herhas ... yer auntie ... houd die ... near a settee?” said William, his lips unmoving in dedication to his predicament of being dead.

Keir huffed, rolled his eyes and then gestured Mab towards an empty chair.

Mab waddled over and positioned herself for an easy landing. “Alright. I think I’m ready now.”

Keir took a deep breath and then struck, gently of course. “Die, dragon! Die!”

Mab grasped at her side and dramatically, with as much grace as a heavily pregnant woman could, fell onto the chair behind her. She made choking noises and coughed and sputtered for an exaggerated amount of time.

Keir waited as patiently as a six-year-old could. Finally, when Mab took her last dying breath, Keir whooped triumphantly and swaggered to the other side of the room. He stopped in front of Daphne, who continued to read her book.

“I’ve come to rescue you, Princess,” he said after a moment.

“Is that so?” Daphne said without taking her eyes off her book. “And who said I need rescuing?”

“Daphne,” Keir cried. “You’re supposed to play along. I’m a knight, and I killed all the dragons who were holding you prisoner!”

Daphne slowly put her book down. A wicked smile etched itself across her face. “Maybe the dragons weren’t there to keep people from rescuing me. Maybe they were there to keep me in .”

“W-what?” Keir said, his eyes widening.

Mab couldn’t help but smile to herself.

“You freed me, knight. I am the most powerful evil witch that ever lived!” Daphne stood up, towering over Keir. “They locked me up to keep me from destroying the world. But you have set me free! As a reward, you will be the last to die!” Daphne finished her monologue with a very convincing cackle.

“That’s not fair!” Keir said.

“Why is it not fair?” Daphne snapped. “I was sitting here, minding my own business. I didn’t ask for a knight to rescue me.”

“Not that ,” Keir spat. “You made me kill all the good dragons. I thought they were bad!”

“I tell you what,” Daphne said, her voice villainous. “I have become accustomed to my cage. If you agree to leave me alone, I will bring your dragons back to life.”

Keir eyed the witch speculatively. Finally, he stuck out his little hand. “Deal. ”

“ Yuk ! You have jam on your hand! I’m not shaking it,” Daphne said with disgust. “ Eugh ! Don’t lick it!”

Mab could hear Tilly tsk from the chaise longue, and it was all Mab could do to contain her giggles.

“The sandwiches were too big for me to hold. The jam slipped out!” Keir cried.

“Look, do you want the bloody dragons back or not?”

Mab had to physically bite the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing.

“Yes!”

“Then be quiet and let me do it!”

Keir nodded.

Daphne threw her arms wide and wiggled her fingers. “Alright then. To relieve me of this strife ” – she glared down at Keir – “ bring these dragons back to life !”

A series of dramatic sighs echoed around the room as everyone came back to life. Mab’s father, Martin and Martha returned to their abandoned game of cards. Daphne, sticking her tongue out at Keir, picked up her book and began reading. Keir marched back, grabbing his father’s hand and guiding him towards the seating area. Tilly pulled Keir up onto her knee as Benedict settled himself beside her, throwing his arm over his wife’s shoulder. Tilly blushed and placed a hand delicately on Benedict’s knee.

William, bless his heart, returned triumphantly from the far side of the room with a footstool, having deposited Sarah into the eager arms of her grandfather. He wrapped an arm under Mab’s swollen ankles and gently lifted them, placing her feet tenderly on the soft padding of the stool. He pulled the matching chair to Mab’s closer so that he could hold her puffy fingers in his.

“Father?” Keir asked. “When will Aunties Arabella and Bobbie be here?”

“Tomorrow, son. Are you excited to see Hamish?” Benedict asked.

Before Keir could answer, Daphne groaned from the far side of the room. “ Please tell me I’ll be on my way to Aunt Catherine’s before Hamish arrives.”

“What’s wrong with Hamish?” William asked, a knowing grin on his face as he cast a glance at Mab.

“He’s an insufferable know-it-all. He has an answer for everything, and I can’t finish a single chapter of my novel when he’s around,” Daphne snapped.

“You can always take yourself to another room,” Mab suggested.

“I couldn’t possibly do that.” Daphne sighed. “The pair of them together” – she glared at Keir – “wreak havoc wherever they go. If I left them to their own devices, I wouldn’t have a home to return to.”

“We thank you for your sacrifice,” William said.

Mab couldn’t help but smile, her fingers unconsciously rubbing over her belly where the raised scar – which was pulled tight and ever so painful – could be felt through her dress. Five years ago, she had resigned herself happily to a life alone with just her father for company.

She now had an extensive family, one that she had chosen and loved with the entirety of her being.

And soon, she thought as she looked down at her belly, she’d have a little William or Aveline to add to the troop.

“Mother? When are you going to finally tell Auntie and Uncle that I’m to become a big brother?” Keir said with exasperation.

Mab’s eyes snapped to Tilly, who brushed a finger lightly over her stomach, and then to Benedict, who grinned from ear to ear, watching his wife proudly.

“As it turns out,” Benedict said, “blue moons appear a little more often than one might think.”