Page 200 of Evermore

I smiled, imagining Quill’s face when she discovered the treat. “She’ll be insufferable.”

“She’s already insufferable,” Thea countered, but her tone was light.

We rounded a corner to find Vincent directing a group of workers as they reinstalled the original iron railings along the bridge. He’d refused to stay underground once it was safe to return, insisting that the real work lay in rebuilding what had been lost. Now he oversaw much of the restoration, his knowledge of the old city proving invaluable. Where human hands could fix this place, they did. Because it was theirs to cherish too.

“Your Majesty,” he called, bowing with a dramatic flair that made me roll my eyes.

“I’ve told you not to call me that.”

“And I’ve elected to ignore you. The Goddess of Renewal, and the only god I particularly care for, deserves a proper title, especially when she’s actually living up to the name.” He paused, looking around. “Don’t tell Minnie I said that. Or Tuck. Or Thorne.”

My fingers twitched at the reminder of what I was now. Half-goddess by birth, full goddess by conquest, yet still somehow the same woman who had once danced for coins in a ramshackle theater. The contradiction no longer felt like a burden—it was simply another part of the tapestry that made up my existence.

“How’s the bridge coming?” I asked, deliberately changing the subject.

“It’ll be ready for the festival next week. Though I still say we should add some of those fancy new lampposts Thea designed.”

“Absolutely not,” Thea and I replied in unison.

Vincent laughed, shaking his head. “Two against one. I surrender.”

As we continued our walk through the city, I felt a familiar warmth spread through me. Not the burn of power or the fire of rage, but something gentler. Pride, perhaps, or the quiet satisfaction of creation rather than destruction. For so long, I had thought of myself as a weapon, forged in pain and honed for vengeance. Now, I was learning what it meant to build, to heal, to nurture.

Requiem remembered itself beneath my touch, like a sleeper slowly awakening from a dream. The soul of the city remained, but now it breathed easier, stood taller, no longer cowed by the whims of capricious gods or the cruelty of human masters. We reached the Dancing Ghost tavern right as the afternoon crowd began to filter in.

Elowen stood in the doorway, her dark hair with traces of silver gleaming in the sunlight as she directed a delivery of wine barrels with her usual efficiency. “I was wondering when you two would show up. You’re late for lunch.”

“We’re exactly on time,” Thea protested, looking up at the old clock tower.

“If you’re not early, you’re late,” Elowen countered, ushering us inside with gentle insistence. “And I’ve got a table waiting.”

Elowen had a particular fondness for this old place, and when it came time, she bought it outright. The tavern’s interior had been restored to its original glory, with heavy wooden beams and worn stone floors that’d witnessed centuries of stories. The only concession to my restoration efforts was better lighting and a new hearth that didn’t smoke when the wind came from the east.

Thorne and Tuck had claimed our usual corner table, their heads bent close in conversation that ceased abruptly when we approached. The sight of Thorne still made my heart skip, not with the desperate longing of our separated lives, but with thesettled certainty of a love that had finally found its rightful time and place.

He looked up, those hazel eyes warming as they met mine, and rose to pull out my chair. “Find anything that needs fixing on your morning walk?” he asked, pressing a kiss to my temple as I sat.

“Only about a dozen things,” I admitted. “But nothing urgent.”

“She’s being modest,” Thea said, settling across from us. “She personally redesigned the entire western aqueduct system this morning. And then insisted on overseeing the foundation work for the new school.”

Tuck whistled low. “Impressive for a morning stroll.”

“Says the man who’s been reorganizing the entire royal library for fun,” I countered.

Tuck grinned, scratching his beard. “It’s not my fault your historians had no concept of proper chronological archiving. In fact, it’s quite annoying.”

“What is it with rearranging books in this family?” Thea huffed.

The strange new reality of our existence still felt dreamlike some days. Thorne had a fraction of his power, enough to keep him immortal, but no longer the Keeper of Memories. Tuck chose to stay by his side despite the shift in cosmic hierarchy. Minerva watched over Quill’s education with unexpected gentleness. Alastor and Irri made occasional appearances, drawn by curiosity rather than schemes. And balanced between mortal responsibilities and immortal power, learning to wield both with equal care, was me.

The door burst open, admitting a whirlwind of energy in the form of Quill, followed by a more steady Minerva. Boo trotted at their heels, his little legs working overtime to keep pace.

“I atefoursweet rolls,” Quill announced, throwing herself onto the bench beside me. “And Minnie said I could have another if I finished my history lessons, but I told her I’d save it for after lunch because I’m growing and need real food too.”

“Very responsible,” Thorne said solemnly, though his eyes danced with amusement.

“That’s what Minnie said.” Quill beamed up at Minerva, who pretended not to notice as she settled beside Tuck. “She says I’m the most responsible Fate she’s ever known.”