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Epilogue

H igh on a wooden ladder in the center of a massive cave, Vahly dragged the obsidian blade in a circle, carving out another name along the wall.

Her goal was to cover the feasting hall she and Arc had chosen with the names of those who had lost their lives in the war, and to do the work without magic.

She normally had others helping her, but most of the dragons were hunting for tonight’s celebration of Frostlight.

Nix walked in, then jiggled the ladder. “Arc is doing something wrong.”

Nearly slipping, Vahly glared, then climbed down and flexed her sore hand. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve only been mated for one moon. You shouldn’t have nearly this much energy.” Nix hooked her arm in Vahly’s. “I’ll have to talk with him.”

“Nix.”

“Or perhaps it’s you who is lazing about in the bedchamber?”

“Please, stop.” It wasn’t often someone could make Vahly blush. She poked Nix in the side and hurried past her. “And if you really want my holiday to go well, you’ll cease your prying so I’ll have time for a bath.”

Now that she had a newly constructed tavern to call her own, Nix was her old self.

Incorrigible. Loud. Vahly grinned, remembering how Nix had caught Euskal cheating at dice and made him go to one knee to beg forgiveness in the form of outright flattery and beautiful lies.

Yes, Nix was Nix again. Practically perfect.

Chuckling, Nix smacked Vahly’s backside as she began to walk away. That dragon was impossible. A tug on Vahly’s heart suddenly stopped her and turned her around to face Nix. She hugged her fiercely.

Patting Vahly’s back, Nix exhaled slowly and relaxed into the embrace. “What is this for?”

“I never could have done any of this without you. Do you know how much Sugarrabota owes you? How much I owe you?” She drew back and saw tears shining in Nix’s eyes.

“You don’t owe me a thing, my dear friend. You and your elf have given me back my life. As for the island as a whole, any who care to show their thanks may demonstrate their gratitude with mounds of scorchpeppers and skins of northern wine.”

“I’ll be sure to announce that at the feast tonight.”

Nix bowed. “My queen.”

“My Mistress of Festivities.” Vahly gave her a grin and walked on.

The cave that served as the feasting hall led into a corridor of stacked stone where torches lit the walls and lapis tiles lined the floor.

Breaking into three branches, the corridor led outside, to the kitchens, or to the spirit oak palace, depending on which way one chose to go.

Vahly walked into the spirit oak, so named for the pale undersides of its leaves and for the ones who had given Arc his life.

She had drawn the oak from an acorn to its full size in the week after the victory over Astraea.

The tree towered over the coastline, a mountain almost itself.

The sea breeze coming through the arched, carved windows in the new oaken palace smelled fresh and promising, no longer a scent to fear.

Below the outcropping on Lapis territory where she and Arc had made their home, she could see Queen Lilia’s gift.

The Lost Valley was lost no more. The land was bare in the place where Vahly had been born and the last of the humans had died, but shoots of green were popping up every day, and soon it would be a place for dragons or the elves to settle if they chose.

Vahly had a secret wish: that someday the children she and Arc might have would build a city there and she would live to see a new version of her kynd and his rise.

In her bedchamber on the top level of the oaken palace, Vahly crawled into a deep bath perfumed with teal-green rose petals and lavender.

Arc had designed a pulley system to lift fresh water from the underground spring.

It poured from a stone basin after rising through hollow marsh reeds.

Helena had given up healing since Ruda seemed more than capable of taking over despite her young age.

The old healer had requested the position of serving Vahly.

Vahly still felt guilty when Helena heated the stone tub with her well-controlled dragonfire and brought her flatbread and cider from the kitchens, but Helena insisted the work pleased her, that she was honored to serve a queen.

Nevertheless, Vahly did her best not to ask for help more than once a day.

Steam rose from Vahly’s bath, and she sank lower, letting the hot water wash the grit from her skin and scent her hair with the thick layer of rose petals and lavender buds that floated on the surface.

The quiet was nice. Preparations for Frostlight had been near frenetic with the Jades nearby, camping in luxurious tents in the Red Meadow and always wanting to spar, and the younglings running all over the place and begging for sweets.

“What’s this?” Arc’s voice made Vahly jump.

He sat on the side and trailed a finger through the flowers drifting along the surface.

His crown was back. Well, it wasn’t the first crown, of course, but the new one he’d fashioned with help from his fellow elves.

They’d kept their ritual rather secretive, even from her—something about gathering under the full moon and speaking to the wind.

The crown flickered just out of sight, darker than its predecessor with more swirling wisps of deep plum and smoky gray dancing between the threads of sun-bright gold.

She propped a leg up beside him. “This, my love, is the solution to all of your problems.”

He laughed fully then, his head back and the apple in his throat moving. Source in the well, he was beautiful. “How is a bath capable of readying the entirety of Sugurrabota’s populace for Frostlight?”

Vahly grabbed his loose linen shirt and pulled him closer as she clicked her tongue. “Those are not your problems.”

“And I suppose you are going to tell me about mine.”

“It’s my job as your mate to watch out for you. Stress is your problem, King Arcturus. Now get your fine rear in this tub and we’ll see what happens.”

He stood and pulled off his shirt, showing his flat stomach and rolling muscles.

“You are doing that on purpose,” she said, her throat going dry.

“Doing what?” He narrowed his eyes and disappeared behind the wooden divider by the handwashing basin.

Vahly chuckled and submerged herself. Then the water sloshed and Arc was in the bath, black hair slicked back and water droplets on his sharp chin and pointed ears.

“Well, I am here.” His voice was teasing and low. “Are you certain you’re prepared for my solution to all of your problems?”

She leaned forward and brushed her lips over his as he curled his hands around her neck gently. “Of course I am. I am a queen.”

And just like that, Vahly was at last perfectly happy with not being a dragon.