Epilogue

“ G ood morning, Your Majesty,” Eldrin said to me the morning after my coronation. It was now three months after I arrived in the Woods—for the second time—and I was now officially its queen. The world outside was in the throes of winter, but the Darkening Woods remained in its eternal fall.

Queen.

The gold coronet of leaves and vines sat on my night table, the only thing that I wore to the ceremony that made it through the night unscathed. Unlike my poor gown, which was now on the floor in tatters from where Eldrin tore it off me, desperate to take me when the ceremony was done and the celebration over.

I had bonded with the Woods as a part of my coronation. I said the words and made the pledge—and my heart was now sealed with it. I would share in the long years of Eldrin’s life, as I was now committed to these Woods for what remained of mine.

To my eternal joy, all of my limbs still had their skin. I was willing to risk any change for Eldrin, but I was still glad I didn’t have to experience that one.

I rolled over in bed from where I was laying under thick coverlets, pushing my hair out of my eyes as the sun beamed into them.

“Good morning,” I said, propping up on my elbows. “You’re up early.”

“Maybe I like to be awake when I hold you,” he said, pulling me towards him and kissing my hand. Such a chaste kiss made my breath catch and a hum of pleasure trickle through me. A familiar stiffening pressed against my thigh. I wasn’t the only one thinking such things.

“Maybe I would prefer it if you—”

A knock at the door interrupted us. Eldrin frowned. “Come in,” he said, while I tugged the blankets higher. It had to have been important—no one had dared bother us unexpectedly. Except for Oristan, but even he knew better than to try such a thing again.

Eldrin’s servant walked in, an elf with slicked back black hair. He carried a rolled piece of paper in his hand, which bore an oddly metallic seal. Was it a metal? Or some strange wax?

“A letter, Your Majesty,” the servant said with a deep bow. “It arrived this morning. ”

Eldrin didn’t speak. But a raised eyebrow told me he understood something more about the letter than I did. After the servant was dismissed with a nod, Eldrin unrolled the letter while I snuggled against him.

“What is it?” I asked. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he said. “But it is unusual.” He rolled the letter back up and offered it to me. I shook my head, trusting that he would tell me what it said himself. “The angels.”

“Angels? The ones in New Jersey?”

“I’m going to assume yes since there aren’t any other angels that I am aware of.”

I frowned. “I didn’t think things could go through the barrier.”

“Objects are easier than people,” Eldrin said. “When the item isn’t alive the barrier isn’t as…affected. Smaller animals are easier, too.”

“…Now you tell me.” I sighed. “I would have arranged for Phoebe and Emily to drop off supplies once in awhile.” I had stocked my backpack full of spices, seeds, and books—things I absolutely refused to do without if I could help it. And pumpkin spice. Lots of pumpkin spice and things to grow and make it.

He chuckled. “I offered to try to send letters. Say the words and it can be done. We can arrange something.”

I smiled. “We’ll talk later.” I nodded at the scroll. “Now, what is this? The angels sent us a letter?” This was starting to sound like the plot of a bad holiday movie .

He nodded. “They are requesting books from us, and gave us the exact words to look for, ones in our old language. It was addressed to Vanir, so they haven’t realized there’s been a change in rulership.”

“Why would they want books?”

“That’s just it, Amber,” he said, his eyes lit with wonder. “Apparently, they think they know how to take us home.”