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EPILOGUE

A fter their honeymoon at the Crossroads Inn, the newlyweds traveled to Mnisztwo Castle and found their home beautifully refurbished. No pocket-world prisons remained on the castle grounds or in Solara’s tower. All deceitful or harmful magic had been banished from the estate.

Papa Hrabik turned down the position of head gardener, requesting instead the role of chief magical gardener. “I understand them,” he admitted. “The plants don’t talk to me like your golden-apple tree, my Lenka, but I know them all the same and keep them in line.”

The golden-apple orchard in its brick-walled garden now thrived in a quiet, protected corner of the estate, its fruit protected by a magical network courtesy of the WMC mages.

During Kazik and Helena’s honeymoon, Bogumil had restored the lost tree from King Gustik’s magic garden to its family, offering his sincere apologies to the entire orchard.

Arboreal rejoicing rose to the very skies at the return of one lost tree.

And when Helena first entered the orchard, every tree rustled in a chorus of joy. Tree happy. Lenka loved. Lenka kind.

With its usual kindness, “Lenka’s tree” offered to present a golden apple to King Gustik, but Princess Helena reminded it that the King of Trinec had already collected hundreds of its apples and might have planted an orchard of his own had he thought ahead.

So, the tree gifted two of its more adventurous saplings to King Ryszard at Castle Valga instead, where they thrived and protected their new home with golden magic.

Solara still searched, at times, for others of her kind. Although she was slow to trust most humans, she spent most of her time with Kazik, Helena, and Papa Hrabik.

Geoffroi insisted he’d never been serious about Iga. The black warhorse kept her own counsel and took care of her human on the melee field. Regarding a certain golden stallion, Kazik suspected she was playing the long game . . .

Helena and Kazik later learned that as soon as they broke the curse over Wroc?aw, Bogumil had freed the foolish adventurers from his “fun” inn, including proud and handsome Prince Marek of Trinec, who returned to his future kingdom empty-handed.

When questioned, Bogumil claimed that Prince Dominik had never visited either inn . . .

“ W alk to the meadow with me?” Kazik found his wife in the freshly unenchanted gardens behind Mnisztwo Castle one afternoon in late summer. “Iga and I both stripped down and jumped into the pond after our victory, and I promise I used soap.”

Suppressing a smile, Helena pressed a finger to her lower lip and looked him up and down. “You were magnificent, but a triumphant jouster could still use a towel and a comb, I think.”

“I hurried so I wouldn’t miss you.” He gave her the big brown puppy-dog eyes, but she held firm. “Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll be right back.”

When he returned a short time later, sweet-smelling, neat, and no longer dripping, she linked her arm through his and stood on tiptoe to kiss his freshly shaven cheek. “Thank you.”

They descended the cliffside’s many terraced steps while he reported how well the military training was going.

His enthusiasm warmed her heart. She knew that he still struggled with the aftermath of his father’s disgrace, but the citizens of Ostrów and all of Wroc?aw respected the new grand duke, who worked hard to earn their respect.

Kazik refused to accept the title of archduke even though he’d inherited his deceased grandfather’s land.

The old draught-loving fox’s frail body and mind had broken soon after the trials, and he was buried in a shady clearing in the pocket world. By law, Warin Lisiewicz, being a convicted criminal, could not inherit a title or land. Kazik didn’t want it either.

But Helena didn’t want to think about sad or worrisome things while strolling with her handsome husband. Bypassing the archery range, the newlyweds entered the old meadow, which smelled sweet in an evening breeze. “Better watch your step,” Kazik warned, guiding her around a hole.

“The rabbits here do frequently set traps for me,” Helena quipped. “Or did you dig that hole and set me up for a fall all those years ago?”

“I’ll never confess.”

She chuckled. “Race me to the pine tree?”

Instead of preparing for a run, he looped one arm around her waist and said, “Too many lady-tripping rabbit holes out here. How about we just sit under the pine tree and reminisce and maybe share a few kisses? Or maybe more.”

Giving him a side-eyed smile, she whirled out of his grasp and said, “First, you’ll have to catch me!”

So, he did.