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T he wedding was epic, as I supposed befitted a king and his new queen. It took place, not in some grand ballroom as I’d expected, probably because there wasn’t one that would fit all the guests. But at oceanside in the same area where we’d been staying, an old summer palace of Nimue’s.

The entire court had come except for Felton and his supporters, who were currently kicking their heels in lock-up, where they’d stay until after the war. That was okay; nobody was missing them. All of the ex-slaves had come as special guests of the king and queen, and so the entire clifftop was covered in people, with the hoi polloi mixing freely with a lot of disturbed-looking nobles.

But those weren’t the only two groups, and the great mass of Nimue’s people, it turned out, hadn’t belonged to either of them. I’d gotten a skewed perspective, as all I’d seen of her lands was the palace until now. I’d spent most of the last three days watching wagons roll in carrying pink-cheeked types from the countryside, while curious Margygyr heads kept poking above the waves and then ducking back down again before anyone thought they actually cared.

But I guessed some did, because the ceremony was being held seaside so that both the realm’s land and sea peoples could attend, which I thought was damned kind of Enid, who had been enslaved by the one and disowned by the other for her entire lifetime.

I guessed a queen had to be politic.

But that was probably why Rhosier, her friend and fellow runaway slave smuggler, was giving her away. She looked radiant in a dress of the palest shade of blue littered with tiny seed pearls, like ocean foam, all along the edges, and with a train so long and so gauzy that I honestly couldn’t tell where it ended and the tide began. And unlike the elaborate headdresses common at court on such occasions, her abundant red hair was down and blowing in the wind as the two walked to meet ?subrand.

“It’ll never last,” Alphonse said, from beside me.

“Shh!”

“They’ve known each other, like, what? A week?”

“Something like that.” Preparations for the wedding had been rushed because ?subrand insisted it take place before he left to join the army, so Enid could rule in his stead with Lady Bodil’s help. But I didn’t think it mattered. I’d never seen two people more besotted.

“I give it a year,” Alphonse said sourly.

“Is that why you’re hanging around?” I asked. “I thought you’d be off chasing Tony.”

“Tony’s dead. Got eaten,” he said with some satisfaction.

“Future Tony. What about the one in this era?”

He grabbed a glass of something vividly teal from a passing waiter’s tray while he thought about it. That wasn’t as rude as it sounded, as fey marriages took days, and what we were watching from the stands for special guests was only one of a myriad of ceremonies, rituals, and banquets planned for the next week. The Blessing of the Sea, I thought this one was called, and everyone pretty much drank their way through all of them.

“Yeah, he’s still out there,” Alphonse agreed. “But it don’t feel as pressing as it used to.”

“Because you already saw him die?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s knowing how he gave up everything to be somebody, and to his allies, he’s just a little bitch. An errand boy. You almost gotta feel sorry for him.” He drank wine, or whatever it was. “I wonder if he’s figured that out yet?”

I wondered, too. Then realized I didn’t care. Tony had loomed so large in the imagination of the little girl I’d been, but now I saw him for what he was.

And I didn’t feel sorry at all, I thought, taking a drink of my own.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ll squash him like a bug if I ever run across him,” Alphonse said. “But it just seems like maybe I got better things to do than chase that little asshole around, you know?”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Visiting Sal’s grave,” he said, referring to his lover, whom Tony had sent to her death. “I buried her in the desert, in this little churchyard. It dated back to the Wild West days, so it seemed appropriate.”

I nodded. Sal had been a saloon girl back in the day. “And then what?”

He shrugged. “Thought I might saddle up and go join the Consul’s army. This fight we got coming up, it’s the big one, y’know? And I figure they could use the help.”

I blinked at him. “That sounds dangerous.”

He shot me a look. “After what I’ve seen lately?”

“You join up, and you’ll see more of it.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I never know what you’re gonna do.” He drained the glass. “But this hero thing fits me better than I thought. A guy could get used to this. And maybe pick up a prize along the way.”

“She’s not a prize to be won,” I said, because his eyes were on Enid again, who had just reached her prince charming, who was looking at her as if they were the only two people on the beach.

“No, she’s not,” he agreed. “She’s a woman , just like Sal was. But who knows? Maybe I’ll meet another one of those.”

“I hope so,” I told him, and meant it.

The ceremony finally ended, which meant that some feasting was due to begin soon. That seemed to be the rhythm: solemn ceremony, riotous feasting, and copious alcohol. Time for sleep afterward, when you could no longer stand, then wash and repeat. It wasn’t a bad way to party, if anyone asked me, not that anyone had.

That included Pritkin, who hadn’t shown up for the ceremony and who I couldn’t find at the feast.

That might have been because only about a million people thronged the area, which was under the stars but so heavily strung with lights and festive lanterns that it was impossible to tell. Tapestries blocked the view of the prep areas beyond, which were supplying the groaning tables of food on one side; the happy couple were enthroned on the other under a huge, heavily decorated canopy, and a large space for dancing was in between. And there was no Pritkin anywhere, and when I tried to reach out through the bond, I got exactly bupkis.

It was like he’d blocked me.

Or like someone had, I thought, the paranoia I’d been feeling since we returned blooming into full-on fear. I knew this was too perfect, too pretty, too easy . It was a feeling that had been growing all week, while everybody else drank, feasted, danced, and laughed. I’d felt like a horrible killjoy, but I just couldn’t turn on a dime like that.

I knew I should try to enjoy life while I had the chance, but I couldn’t. Instead, I’d felt almost as keyed up as I had in that terrible future, with the sword of Damocles constantly dangling over my head. And now something really was wrong, I could feel it, and I needed to find him fast and plan our next—

“Ow!” I’d turned to leave the party, only to run straight into a man heading my way. A hottie in a sleeveless white tunic of some silky fabric decorated with shell designs made of crystals and seed pearls, tight-fitting trousers of the same material hugging muscular thighs, and a golden circlet on his—

“Pritkin?” I said, staring at his hair, which was ruining the effect of all that finery. “Where have you been?”

Worry made my voice harsher than really warranted, but I doubted he could tell over the din in here. Or maybe he could, because he pulled me out of the brightly lit area, through the tables manned by the freed but still harassed-looking kitchen staff, because they were having to prepare everything in the middle of a field, and out to the grasses and rocks beyond. But that still didn’t seem to be good enough, as there were hundreds of wagons scattered everywhere, and smaller, less formal feasts happening around them, like tailgaters at a football game. And more energetic dancing was taking place beside the brightly burning fires that dotted the night.

“This way,” he said, leading us to a narrow goat trail heading down the cliff to the beach. I felt myself start to relax, even before we made it to the bottom, because I could breathe out here. The thousand raucous sights, sounds, and scents of the party faded into the background, and there was only clean sea air and a little wind throwing my hair around.

The dress I was wearing was lightweight enough not to impede me, although I hadn’t planned to mountain climb in it. But I somehow got to the bottom without snagging the delicate overskirt, which was way more voluminous than the slender inner layer and had a habit of billowing out at every breath of wind. But it was sturdier than it looked, with its sprinkling of tiny diamonds, and with the champagne color of the fabric almost causing it to disappear into the night, making me look like I was clothed in starlight.

Augustine would have a fit here, I thought, and laughed for the first time in days for no apparent reason.

The light from above spangled the sand enough that we could see, but it didn’t obscure the stars arching overhead. Pritkin finally found a spot he liked, well away from the celebration, although I could still hear music playing distantly. The tide was coming in, but it didn’t quite reach us, and the towering cliff face behind made it feel like we were the only two people in the world, even if it was kind of dark.

Until he pulled something out of a pocket that shone like a small moon.

It took me a second to recognize my parents’ orb, the one I’d taken from Tony, because I had no idea what it was doing here. Other than lighting up Pritkin’s face, which looked a little strange suddenly. Hesitant and hopeful and worried and happy…

“What is it?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, and his voice had wonder in it. “Isn’t that strange? For one brief moment, absolutely everything is perfect. We don’t get many of those.”

No.

No, we didn’t.

“Why did you bring that?” I asked, taking the orb from him. As usual, it felt smooth and cool and slightly electric. It buzzed faintly, but if there was anything else going on in there, I couldn’t tell. Even Bodil had been stumped when I’d asked her a few days ago.

Maybe my parents were still recovering?

I bit my lip in worry, because what if they weren’t? What if that last major effort, transporting all those people all that way, had been too much? What if—

“Stop it,” Pritkin told me softly.

“Stop what?” I looked up at him, confused.

“That. You’re not Pythia tonight. Let that burden down for a little while. We’re safe here.” His lips twisted. “For the moment.”

Yeah, it was always for the moment. I wondered if we’d ever get to “forever,” and didn’t know. But moments were good, I decided, when he kissed me.

It was soft and strangely tentative, too. And Pritkin wasn’t tentative. Of course, I wasn’t sure I knew this Pritkin all that well.

I’d had almost a week with him now, but it had been filled with delegations coming and going from Earth--the Silver Circle, the Senate, and the Covens, surprisingly. Zara hadn’t wasted any time there, although they’d looked suspicious and hostile when they found the Circle already ensconced. But they hadn’t left immediately, so I supposed that was progress.

We’d been needed for meetings all day, every day, and often not the same ones, so we hadn’t seen each other as much as I’d have liked. Which was probably just as well, as I kept being weird. Like when Caleb showed up with the Circle’s delegation, looking so young and healthy that I’d creeped him out by staring at him for an entire meeting, but I hadn’t been able to stop.

Jonas had come too, striding around, trying to boss the fey and appearing confident and surprisingly sane. Then there’d been delegations from Caedmon and the Blue Fey, as well as our Dark Fey allies in Faerie, including the dragonkind, who had surprised everybody by flying in unannounced and transforming in the middle of court like it was no big thing. Even a handful of disaffected Svarestri had slipped away to plot with the rest.

Not to mention a never-ending number of balls and parties, endless wedding ceremonies, and fittings for the gowns needed for all of the above, the latter from harassed looking seamstresses sent by Enid, who didn’t leave any of her rag-tag group of allies out. It had been a whirlwind, exhausting, and not particularly fun, as all I’d wanted to do was vanish with Pritkin somewhere nobody could find us. Only who would I be traveling with if I did?

I looked up at him now, and wasn’t sure I knew. The green eyes were clear and laughing, the lips had a very strange, happy curve, and the hair… Okay, the hair remained tragic, poking up defiantly from the golden circlet as if saying, “You can’t tame me!”

And no, I thought wryly, I could not.

Sure about that? He asked mentally, and I noticed he was holding something. It wasn’t the orb; I still had that, which was why faint blue-white light was playing over the small box in his hand, which almost looked like—

I looked up at him, startled and disbelieving. And he laughed at whatever was on my face. Which was probably utter shock, because no.

It couldn’t be.

“I’m sorry I was absent all afternoon, but the jeweler didn’t have it ready when I went to pick it up,” he told me, opening the little wooden box. “I had to wait.”

“Oh,” I said brilliantly, because my brain had shut down.

“It’s traditional here, among the Alorestri, to use a green stone. The color is seen as a sign of a relationship growing together and becoming stronger. And you did speak about a partnership,” he reminded me, his eyes going sober as he dropped to one knee. “I thought… it was about time we made it official.”

I just stood there, silently.

“We can change the stone if you’d prefer,” he said, suddenly looking worried. As if the gorgeous cabochon emerald ring in the tiny bed of gold satin was anything but perfect.

It looks like his eyes, I thought, staring at it.

And then I burst into tears.

It was a sign of how well he knew me that Pritkin didn’t tell me to stop. He didn’t tell me anything. Just pulled me close and held me to his chest, a hand on my head and his arms gentle yet firm around me as I cried and cried and cried.

I didn’t even know what I was crying for. For the burden that never seemed to lift off my shoulders anymore, no matter what happened? For the world that ring represented, full of love and peace and happiness that I wasn’t sure I’d live long enough to see, or deserved to see? For the people we’d left behind, an entire generation wiped off the map, except for the two young witches we’d brought back with us?

All those people weren’t here, feasting, wearing pretty clothes, and watching the starlight on the ocean in the arms of someone they loved. They weren’t anywhere and never would be because of me. And the choices I’d made.

There had been so many—hard ones, painful ones, impossible ones. Had I gotten them right? I didn’t know, and maybe never would.

Could I live with that?

Did I have a choice?

And here was another, an easy one, only it wasn’t. I felt myself tearing up again, because I wanted it so desperately, that beautiful ring, but I didn’t deserve it. I knew I didn’t.

“This isn’t a movie, Cassie,” Pritkin told me softly.

“What?”

“What we’re doing. There’s no script where everything comes together perfectly at the end, and only the villains ever lose. Real life is messy, and painful, and full of terrible choices. And victories come at a cost. But the cost of not getting them is greater.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? The experience we just had, that you’ve been beating yourself up over all week, was one of the cleanest victories possible. Was it perfect? No. But it was damned good. As good as we’re likely to get. And you did that.”

“We all did.”

Pritkin huffed out a laugh. “When you’re a leader, everybody blames you when you’re wrong. Take the wins when you get them.”

“This doesn’t feel like a win!” I said passionately.

“Then what would have?”

“I don’t know! Just… better. Cleaner. Less costly. Something—”

“Perfection?”

“Maybe!”

“Too bad we’re only human, then, isn’t it?” I tensed, but there was no mockery in his voice. Just one soldier to another, who’d seen too much and understood the price we paid for what we did, and would pay again. “I’ll keep it until you’re ready,” he told me, shutting the box.

“I’m never ready for anything,” I said shakily, finally looking up and meeting eyes greener than the stone. Different eyes, and yet the same, too. Pritkin, finally together, all of him, as he was meant to be.

“There’s only one of us,” he said simply, reading my thoughts through the bond. “And he loves you.”

And I loved him—so much.

So what was wrong with me?

“I thought I wasn’t Artemis,” I said sourly.

“You’re not. But you’re not this, either,” he said. “Cowering in the seat of... whatever that thing is... and sobbing your heart out—”

Billy, I thought, startled, and glanced around.

“Two losers trying to make a difference and failing most of the time. But not all of the time. Not when it matters.

“When it matters, we do okay.”

He wasn’t there, couldn’t be there. Yet I heard him, clear as day. And I thought for a moment that the orb in my palm glowed a little brighter.

“Cause you’re Cassie Palmer, and you may go down one day, but it won’t be like a little bitch, crying in a car . . . It won’t be running away because you’re too scared to be who you were born to be and to do what you were born to do.

“No. It won’t be that way at all. Now, will it?”

“Cassie?” Pritkin sounded as if he knew something was happening, just not what. That made two of us.

But I knew one thing.

“I’m never ready,” I said again, more strongly, as I took the ring and put it on my finger. It felt good there, right, as if it had always been meant to be. Like the two of us.

“And it’s never stopped me yet.”