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Jace’s features softened just enough to reveal something like approval. His other arm curved around Lyra, who leaned in with the graceful ease of someone who could level a beast with a whisper or charm a storm into stillness.

Jace’s gaze landed on Delilah. He nodded once. “Glad you stayed.”

Delilah tilted her head, the weight of years behind her smile. “Me too.”

Lyra stepped forward, brushing Delilah’s arm with a friendly touch. “It’s nice having another woman here who knows how to balance fire and finesse,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Witch to witch, I look forward to sharing spells, tea, and maybe a little gossip.”

“Oh, especially the gossip,” Delilah whispered with a grin. “Rollo still thinks I don’t know he talks to the moon when he thinks I’m asleep.”

“I donot,” Rollo muttered behind her, to a chorus of knowing laughter.

Dax, his long coat dusted in dried flower petals and what might’ve been flour, swaggered over and shoved a flask into Rollo’s chest with zero ceremony. “To not screwin’ it up.”

Delilah raised an eyebrow. “That’s the toast?”

“That’s thebesttoast,” Dax corrected with a wink.

She took a sip and immediately winced. “Burns.”

“Means it’s working,” Dax replied with a rumble of a laugh, tipping the flask back himself.

Behind him, Missy and Junie danced barefoot through the moss with string-lanterns hovering behind them, their dresses glowing faintly under a charm that made the colors shift with the music. They waved exaggeratedly when they caught Delilah’s eye.

“She cried, you know,” Junie mouthed dramatically, pointing at Missy.

“I didnot!” Missy yelled back across the field.

“You absolutely did,” Junie giggled, before spinning into a twirl that sent petals scattering.

Nerissa from The Spellbound Sip handed Delilah a small pouch of tea herbs. “For the honeymoon,” she said with a sly smile. “Helps with stamina. And other things.”

Delilah laughed so hard she had to lean on Rollo for balance. “We don’t need help.”

“Speak for yourself,” Rollo muttered, cheeks slightly red.

They moved through the crowd, stopping to hug elders, trade grins with kids, and soak in the kind of love that wrapped around their bones like old quilts—mended, warm, and full of memory.

When they finally reached the edge of the clearing, the music softening behind them, Delilah turned to face Rollo beneath the halo of moonlight. His eyes locked on hers like he could still hardly believe she was real.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” she teased, “and I’m gonna think you’re tryin’ to memorize me.”

“I already have,” he murmured. “But I like the view.”

She blushed, fingers twining with his. “I love you.”

His thumb brushed the back of her hand. “I know. I love you too. More than the woods, more than fate, more than breath.”

They stood there, quiet for a long beat, the forest behind them humming with life, the town before them full of joy.

And in that perfect in-between moment, Delilah finally understood what it meant to not be waiting anymore.

She was already where she belonged.

With him.

He slipped his arms around her waist from behind.

She leaned back into his chest. And sighed. Not from weariness. But frompeace.