He shifted to face her. “I want to get out of the city for a bit. I want to go . . . somewhere.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere, everywhere.” Roark spun her to face him, taking her cold hands in his. She gazed up at him, at his glowing excitement. “I want to see Sydon, where my mother was born. I want to see Arutia. I know we have people here and I know Ito might need our help but—”
“Yes.”
Roark blinked. “Sorry?”
Ronja squeezed his hands, smiling up at him as if he hung the sun in the sky each morning. “Yes.” She let out a startled laugh when he ripped his hands from hers and punched the air, letting out a whoop that arched over their neighborhood, startling a flock of pigeons roosting in a nearby tree.
Ronja watched him, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. Dawn was breaking across the horizon, smothering the gray haze and blending with the golden Aura of Revinia. It was full of agony and possibility, sorrow and laughter, but mostly, it was full of hope.
Epilogue: Back Again
One Year Later
“Are you sure we’re in the right place?”
Roark frowned down at her, but the teasing spark in his golden brown eyes let her know he was just playing. “Yes, Ro, I am quite sure we’re in the right place.”
“Well, it has been awhile,” she said defensively.
“I think I remember my own neighborhood, Alezandri.”
Ronja rolled her eyes. The late spring air had whipped her curls into a frenzy, but at least the flowers she had braided into them were staying in place. Mostly, she thought dryly as a pale blue petal spiraled to the cobblestones.
“You look stunning.”
She smiled up at Roark, her heart swelling the way it always did when he tried to flirt with her. Even over a year later, he still made her body sing. “You’re one to talk.” In the soft evening light, dressed in a high-necked black suit with silver clasps, he looked more beautiful than anyone she had ever seen.
“That dress suits you, I forgot to tell you that.”
“You told me five minutes ago.”
“Well, I’m telling you again.”
Ronja glanced down at her dress. She had purchased it at an outdoor market in the northern reaches of Arutia. Even there the people knew her face, her name. Ronja Alezandri. The Siren. They whispered as she passed. It was not just her that drew their attention, though. Roark Westervelt. The Anthemite. The vendor selling the dresses had tried to give the garment to her for free, but she refused. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever owned—pale blue with skirts that flowed to her ankles and tiny white flowers stitched into its pinched waist. She wore a white shawl over it for when the sun went down.
“I still think you should have bought that scarf,” she said, eyeing his bare neck.
“I look terrible in blue,” he answered. He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on her low neckline. “You look good in anything.” Ronja swatted him on the arm, but before she could say anything they stepped around the corner.
There they were.
At least three hundred Anthemites, most of whom she recognized by face if not name, gathered around the fountain in the middle of the town square. The statue of Atticus Bullon had been felled over a year ago. All that remained were the living arcs of water that cascaded into the rippling pool. Lanterns dangled from the trees encircling the plaza, and white petals littered the bricks.
“Ronja! Roark!”
The crowd unzipped and Iris burst through, a streak of red and white. She slammed into Ronja, who let out a whoosh of startled breath. “Careful,” the Siren wheezed, patting her on the back gingerly. “You’ll tear your dress.”
Iris stepped back, grinning ear to ear. Her red curls were pinned into an elegant bun ringed with white flowers to match her lace wedding dress. Her pale skin glowed through her dappled freckles, and her hazel eyes were framed with thick lashes. “You look beautiful,” Ronja said with a smile.
“You call that a hug?”
The Siren looked up just in time to be enveloped by Evie, who lifted her off the ground. Iris skipped over to hug Roark, who kissed both her cheeks. “You look amazing,” Ronja told Evie when they pulled apart. Her dark hair had grown since she’d last seen her and was twisted into an elegant braid at her crown. She wore a form-fitting white suit, a single silver clasp at its waist, accentuating her curves.
“Arexian tradition,” the techi said, touching her braid lightly. Her face lit up. “I got more reshkas, too!” She rolled her left sleeve up to show off her expanded tattoos. “Dad is teaching me to read them.”
Ronja grinned. “Congratulations.”
“Georgie is going to lose her mind when she sees your dress,” Iris said, eyeing Ronja appreciatively. “You look gorgeous.”
“Now, now,” Evie teased, slinging a strong arm over her bare shoulders.
The surgeon blinked up at her. “You know I’m about to marry you, right?”
“Where is Georgie, anyway?” Ronja asked, standing up on her tiptoes to see over the dense crowd.
“You can talk to her after,” Iris said, shooing Evie back and taking Ronja by the hand. “Come on, you’re late, as always.” The Siren shrugged helplessly as she was dragged away from Roark and Evie, who both grinned mischievously. “We’re about to get started. Do you remember your cue?”
“Yeah,” Ronja nodded as Iris led her through the whispering crowd. The Siren. Ronja. Alezandri. “I remember.”
“Perfect.” The surgeon released her and pointed at a spot near the edge of the fountain, just out of reach of a stream of water. “Stand there and keep quiet until you hear your cue.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ronja said, saluting her with two fingers. Iris beamed, then whipped around and hurried away, skirts rustling around her ankles. The Siren smiled after her, standing with her hands clasped. It was polite, she supposed.
“Ro.”
Ronja felt her heart leap into her throat as she rounded on the familiar voice. “Henry,” she gasped, opening her arms to him. He roped her into a bone-crushing hug, his musk enveloping her. “How have you been doing?” she asked as they pulled apart, still holding hands loosely.
“All right,” he replied with a gentle shrug. “It gets easier.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“How is Charlotte doing?”
“Better,” he said, his dark eyes lighting up. “She and Cosmin are pretty much inseparable. I gave them the talk a couple days ago.”
Ronja winced. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries, keeping them in line . . . it helps.”
“How are you and Valorie?” she asked, changing the subject.
Only days after the fall of The Conductor, Henry had returned to the palace in search of the girl Maxwell had kept as his personal slave. He and Iris nursed her back to health, connecting her with other women who had faced abuse. Several months ago, as Henry explained in a letter, their relationship had progressed beyond friendship. “We’re taking it slow,” he said, a blush creeping into his face. “After everything she has been through . . . ”
Ronja laid a loving hand on his broad shoulder, smiling up at him. “Just listen to her. She’ll tell you when she’s ready.”
String music struck up from somewhere across the crowd. Ronja looked at Henry with a wince. “Iris will skin me if I am not focused. I’ll talk to you later?”
“Always,” he said. “I’ll be here.”
“I love you,” Ronja said, letting her arm fall from his shoulder.
“And I you.” With a little wave, Henry faded back into the audience.
Ronja smiled after him, peace stirring in her chest. Movement to her right caught her eye. Ito, dressed in an elegant cream dress that brushed the ground. Her orange hair was swept up into a tight knot, accentuating her long neck. She locked eyes with Ronja briefly, passing her a fond nod. The Siren returned it, scanning the area for Ito’s shadow. Her lips
quirked into a smile.
She stood at the edge of the throng, her arms crossed over her sleek black suit and thin tie. Her blond hair had grown longer; it nearly reached her waist. She looked rather pretty, now that she had relaxed a bit, Ronja thought. Their eyes locked.
Terra smiled, passing her the briefest of nods before returning her attention to the president. The tiny orchestra shifted music. Ronja stood up straighter, listening for her cue. The crowd parted as the cello began to play, casting ribbons of green into the spring air. Evie and Iris appeared, their hands clasped and their eyes bright.
The piano joined the fray. The Siren took a steadying breath and began to sing.
As the first threads of her voice washed over the crowd, her white Aura materialized. She reached out, coaxing it from the shadows of her mind. Gasps flew up as the shimmering entity materialized. Ronja smiled through the lyrics, sending her ribbons swirling down toward the brides.
Iris beamed as the lights swirled around her skirts, while Evie looked at her in quiet awe. As they approached Ito, who was holding a slip of paper in her hand, Ronja closed out the old rhyme.
Ronja sighed as her Aura dissolved, leaving a faint glow behind. Or maybe that was just Evie and Iris, standing before Ito with their fingers laced tight. The president smiled down at them fondly, then spoke. “We are gathered here today to join these two remarkable women in matrimony.”
The Siren cast her eyes over the audience. Her heart jolted. Roark stood near the front, his hands in his pockets and his lips twisted into a knowing smile. I love you, her heart sang. I love you.
“Iris, do you take Evie to be your lawfully wedded wife? In sickness and in health, in—”
“Yes, yes,” Iris cut her off, holding out her slim finger while the crowd laughed. Evie, grinned, pulling a thin silver band from her pocket and slipping it onto her ring finger.
“Evelyn,” Ito went on, unruffled. “Do you take Iris to be your lawfully wedded wife? In sickness and in health, rich or poor, in war and peace? Do you swear to be faithful, kind, and loving as long as you both shall live?”
“You know it,” Evie answered.
Iris trembled visibly as she slipped the band around Evie’s tattooed finger. Ronja bit her lip as joyful tears pricked her eyes. “Then, by the power vested in me by the people of Revinia, I now pronounce you wedded. You may now kiss.”
Before Evie could budge an inch, Iris threw her arms around her neck and kissed her passionately. Laughing against her mouth, Evie swept her off her feet, bending her backward. Laughter and applause burst from the audience. Shooting one last glance at the brides, Ronja hurried over to Roark, taking both his hands in hers. He leaned down to kiss her gently. The world swayed. “This is where I want to be,” Ronja whispered against his mouth. “Right here.”
She felt Roark smile. “It’ll be hard. We still have a lot of work to do.”
“I know.” Ronja pulled back and turned around, leaning up against him as they watched Evie take Iris in her arms, the brides as different and as lovely as the winter moons. “But it will be worth it.”
Acknowledgements
When I first came up with the idea for Vinyl at sixteen, it was just a short story. I never thought I would share it with anyone, much less turn it into a series of books and publish it. Now at twenty-one, I am sitting in my apartment in New York typing up the acknowledgements for Book Three. To say this is unreal would be an understatement.
There are so many people to thank. I would like to start with my mother. None of this would have happened without her. She has been my biggest supporter. She took on the role of editor, designer, and agent in addition to being a physician, mother, wife, photographer, and advocate. She is my hero in every sense of the word. I have no idea what I would do without her.
Next, I want to thank my dad. Not only is he a fantastic father, he is one of my best friends. He is there for me through everything. Despite having zero interest in young adult fantasy, he has read every single word of this trilogy, which means more to me than I can possibly say. He is my rock. I am thankful for him every day.
My editor, Katherine Catmull of Yellow Bird Editors, gets the next shout out. I am so lucky I found her when I stumbled blind into the world of writing and publishing at eighteen. Not only is she an excellent editor with a knack for sensing the tiniest plot holes and continuity errors, she is an unfailingly kind human being. I would never have been comfortable releasing this trilogy without her assistance.
The next thank you goes to Jo Painter, the artist who drew the fabulous sketches that appear at the start of each book in this series. She is ridiculously talented and patient. It has been a joy to watch her grow as an artist over the past few years.
My family, friends, and loved ones. Allie Wolters, Maya Lippard, Mackenzie Shrieve, Sarah Maggard, Dani Hristev, Lucy Chen, Jillian Sloman, Cass Moskowitz, Alana Cohen, Kosyo Lafchis, Zoe Lewis, Evan Delgado, and Bryan Oliveira. Thank you so much for the light you have brought to my life and the support you have given me over the years. It is not forgotten.
My friends and colleagues in the world of writing and publishing. Amanda Lovelace, Cyrus Parker, Gretchen Gomez, Jennifer Wilson, Erin Summerill, Danika Stone, Elise Kova, Zóraida Cordova, Dela, Cheyenne Raine, C.B. Lee, E.J. Mellow, Sierra Abrams, J.S. Blair, Anne Chivon, Morgan Nikola-Wren, McKayla Debonis, K.Y. Robinson, Shelby Leigh, Jennae Cecelia, and Freedom Matthews. Thank you all for your love and support. You are all so insanely talented it makes my heart bloom. I am lucky to have each and every one of you in my life.
Next, I want to thank the Bookstagrammers, BookTubers, bloggers, and artists who have tirelessly supported this series. Hailee Bartz, Jenna Kilpinen, Sara Elena, Lindsay Keiller, Marlene Angelica Sjonsti Björnsen, Vari Siriruang, Stefanos Charalampous, Carlos Su´rez, Lindsey Robinson, Jay Gaunt, Lauren Crumly, Salome Totladze, Sofia Giappichini, Lissa Marshall, Rebekah Rose, and so many more. You helped make my very first series a success, and I will be forever grateful. I love all of you.
Lastly, I want to thank my readers. Every single one of you. Your comments, reviews, fan art, and love for this series and these characters is what kept me going on the hardest days. I am the luckiest author in the world. Thank you so much, and may your song guide you home.
Love,
Sophia
About the Author
Sophia is the author of the #1 bestselling Vinyl Trilogy as well as soul like thunder and hummingbird, two books of poetry. She loves Star Wars and hates cantaloupe. She currently resides in New York City where she attends her dream school, NYU. Follow her on Twitter and Instagram @authorsehanson and on Tumblr as sophiaelainehanson. For book reviews, writing tips, and daily updates check out her blog, May Your Books Guide You Home.
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