Page 36

EPILOGUE

“ W e have come here, today, to celebrate the union of destiny.” Milanov Zephyranth’s face appeared through the large holo screens that had automatically protruded from the ceilings. His image was projected through the entire arena, his metallic voice, clear and proud. “An alliance guarantees prosperity.” He lifted his own hand, his ringed fingers entwined with a smaller, delicate hand. The crowd gasped in awe. “It guarantees a future for Helion.”

So the rumors were true. They had spread like wildfire, about the Imperial’s Royal Consort, Norma Zephyranth, being amongst them today. Now, all those who were present were a witness.

“Most of you have never seen a royal wedding.” Milanov smiled softly. “And I had begun to fear that I wouldn’t live to see one either. But my eldest son, Moargan, makes us proud today. He and his fated mate, Cyprian Creighton, will unite, right now, in front of all of you. Helion will strive for a better future. We will strive for more safety, and with the murders brought to justice, we can finally breathe.”

There was a drumroll, slow and regal. The doors to the arena opened and out came the Imperial Prince Kylix. Dark, feral, and smooth, deadly as sin and sexy as hell. Behind him followed the nation’s Essentials, royal members of all positions, and other high-ranking Helions.

The crowd gaped.

In the middle stood Moargan and Cyprian in a flurry of white and fur.

“Let the magic begin,” Milanov said. “It’s time for the exchange.”

Moargan smiled as he let go of Cyprian’s hand. “Open your mouth, lover.” He leaned in as he placed more gems on Cyprian’s incisor and molars and brushed their cheeks together. “Beautiful. Now—” He opened another golden, velvet pouch and started with the necklace, before sliding silver hoops through Cyprian’s ears.

“You are now Cyprian Zephyranth,” Moargan murmured. “My mate, my lover. I pledge my love and loyalty to you, as enduring as the planets and as deep as the galaxy. Until the end of days. Our connection gives me life.” He held up their connected hands and turned to the hungry crowd. “I present you, your Royal Consort.”

They erupted.

And then…a loud, communal gasp as everybody stared at what happened to their Royal Consort.

Cyprian’s vision split, skin heating from the connection from Moargan’s hand. Unlike the first time, today he was prepared. He didn’t understand its meaning yet, but that would come. The magic was there, and people loved magic. With a smooth movement, Cyprian dropped the cape from his shoulders, exposing the fair skin of his shoulders and torso. Of his upper arms and throat. He didn’t need to look down to know what was happening to him. He could feel it in his mind. The way his flesh was engraved with a matrix of those who were part of the connection .

A mind he now shared with Moargan.

“Remember how you mentioned growing up and being jealous of Aviel for being able to shoot fire?” He murmured only for his angel to hear. “This is your true gift. Our true gift.” Moargan swallowed, amethyst eyes taking in the way the glowing webs flickered on Cyprian’s skin. “When you touch me, you light up the entire Dariux network, angel. A network you will rule one day.“

“Helions?” Moargan blinked, temporarily stunned.

Cyprian nodded. “That too. And they will love you.” His skin hummed with pride at the admiration he found in Moargan’s eyes. The Dariux had enhanced him with visions. But it had enhanced Moargan with the right to be its true leader. He traced a finger over the inside of his upper arm, where a flickering light traveled back and forth. “But this is a map of the Dariux. Of our family, one way or another.”

People surrounded them, Essentials feasting their eyes on the wonder that had unraveled in front of them. Of what, they weren’t sure. But it was something big. They still carried that dazzlement in their eyes long after Cyprian had covered up once more.

Helions approved of the marvel that had just taken place. They felt honoured that they had been present. If there had been any doubt about the royal family and their cruel practices, the exact reason Attica had justified their actions, it had evaporated. The nation’s imbalance had been restored.

Also, when the heart of the arena slowly emptied, only to be replaced by purple jumpsuits, ready to be hunted and torn apart now that the ceremony was done. It called to the darkest desires and the secret relief that they were safe and not down there themselves.

Today Helion celebrated the dead.

“Cyprian!” By the entrance to the elite wing, Archer fought against the guards, only to be released the moment Cyprian held up his hand. He stumbled to the ground with a grunt, got up again, and smiled. “Congratulations!” He threw himself against Cyprian. When he spotted the Imperial Prince, he pulled back, spluttering, “Can I still talk to him like that?”

Moargan replied with an amused huff, leading the way inside the crowded wing as Cyprian pushed his friend through the doors and straight to the bar.

“I’m so glad to see you. Come on, let’s celebrate.” Cyprian grabbed two glasses and gave one to Archer, whose eyes had turned wide as he took in his surroundings.

“I’ve never been here. It’s so….wow. What are those for?” He pointed toward the glass cubicles.

“Those…” Cyprian grinned behind the rim of his glass, remembering the first time he’d been in one. “Give you an excellent view.”

“I bet they do. And?—”

Cyprian frowned at the silence, cocking his head to see what had caught his friend’s eye.

Helianth. Slumped back in his hospital bed with family on both ends of his pile of pillows. A glass sat on his knee. And his eyes, identical to Moargan’s amethyst irises, stared right at Archer, laced with a lazy curiosity.

“Am I going to faint?” Archer mumbled as he stared back. “Yes, I might just—Cyprian, get me out of here.”

Cyprian laughed and shook his head.

As he led his friend through the opulent wing, he realized this ceremony was everything he never thought he’d have one day. A family who wanted to have him. A father he had dealt with. And a mother, sparkling and shining as she watched him come closer, her frail arms already outstretched and ready to hold him close. She smelled of daisies and hospital, but she carried her love on her lips. And in her eyes.

“You are so handsome, my son,” she whispered, and she clapped her hands and smiled. She sat next to Norma Zephyranth, who never opened her eyes, though her eyes fluttered and her lips were curled in a sweet, satisfied smile.

Both mothers were still far from being cured, but Cyprian liked to think that a beginning was made.

The party lasted forever. When they were finally in bed later that night, Cyprian didn’t want to sleep. He was tired, exhausted even, as he lay in Moargan’s arms, admiring the gifts his prince had given him. “They are so beautiful. So shiny.”

“Just like you, lover.”

Cyprian smiled. And yawned.

“Sleep. It’s been a long day.”

“I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to miss you.”

Moargan chuckled breathily. “Oh, aeon . The way you’ve captured my heart. Tell you what. If you close your eyes, I’ll tell you a story.”

Cyprian hummed, eyes fluttering closed.

“Alright. This is the story of Taita, the magician of the circus of Tryst, a planet far, far away from here…”

The end.