by Claire Luana
“I’m off to visit my old friend, the emperor. I think it’s time I help him lay down his heavy burdens.”
Willings grinned and motioned to Wren and Hale, nodding towards the hallway. “Move.”
Wren couldn’t feel her body, couldn’t seem to make it cooperate. Her breath came in ragged bursts.
“Come on, move!” Willings said, but then he coughed, grasping his chest with a hand. He seemed to steady himself, as whatever he had felt passed. He stood up straight again. And then his face...rippled.
Wren’s eyes went wide. She looked at Daemastra, who was watching Willings with alarm.
“What is it?” Daemastra asked.
“I don’t know,” Willings said. “You tell me! It’s your—” He coughed again, stumbling against the countertop.
Wren and Hale backed up, away from the man.
A groan of pain escaped Willings’s mouth as his face rippled again. The high cheekbones, the thick hair and dewy skin—it all began to morph. A cry of agony escaped his lips and he fell to his knees, one hand to the ground, the other to his chest. When he pushed his head back, Wren gasped. He was getting older, his skin growing lined, sallow, sagging. His hair turned gray, his muscles shriveled, atrophying before their eyes. “What’s happening?” Willings cried, but Daemastra launched into action, throwing open the icebox door, pulling out another two, three jars, cradling them to his chest.
“Hale,” Wren breathed as Daemastra turned, because his face was rippling as well, the features undulating and morphing like a bubbling river.
Hale launched into action, running towards Daemastra, cracking the man across the jaw with a powerful punch.
Daemastra reeled back against the counter, the jars in his hands falling to the floor, shattering in an explosion of glass and liquid and dust.
Daemastra snarled and threw a punch of his own, sending Hale stumbling back towards her.
Wren shrank into the corner, not sure which scene was more appalling: Willings—writhing on the ground now, his limbs shriveled and weak, the skin of his face sunken like a corpse, or Hale and Daemastra grappling in a breathless contest of brute strength and violence.
Hale shoved Daemastra off him with a boot to the man’s chest, and Daemastra fell back against the counter, slipping into the mess of broken glass and formula. The change was coming on quickly now and he let out the keening cry of an animal as the muscle and vitality and magic drained from him, taking his life essence with it.
Hale, his chest heaving like a stallion, backed up next to Wren. Her hands shook before her mouth. She was unable to look away from the unnatural magic ripping through the man before them.
Willings had stilled—his body skeletal—hardly human.
He was dead.
Daemastra fell to the floor, his hands scrabbling through the liquid and glass, leaving bloody streaks behind. “I don’t understand,” he said through twisted lips, through teeth rotting and falling.
Hale pushed forward, walking to just beyond Daemastra’s reach. He crouched down, looking at the pitiful wreck the man had become. “Compliments of the Spicer’s Guild. A gift from Guildmaster Pike himself. The magic of time. Fast-forwarded.”
Daemastra let out a garbled wail of fury. The keen grew quiet, then snuffed out.
The man’s shriveled head thunked to the tile floor.
A sob escaped Wren’s lips, and she closed her eyes, relief flooding her with such strength that her knees went weak.
Hale was at her side in two strides, and he wrapped his arms around her. “It’s all right chickadee,” he soothed, stroking her hair, which only made her cry more.
Joy and sorrow, relief and regret mingled together with the scent of Hale in the sweetest combination of all.
“Wren!” a voice cried from the doorway, and Wren looked up to find Lucas and Trick, flanked by Thom and Callidus, looking aghast at the desiccated bodies on the ground.
“Lucas!” she cried and ran to him, crashing against him, crushing him in a hug as tight as she could make it. It didn’t matter that he might still hate her. It only mattered that he was alive.
“Gods, Wren, I thought...” Lucas breathed out, burying his face in her hair, cradling her head, stroking her back. “When we learned what Daemastra was doing...gods. I thought I was going to be too late.”
“You almost were,” she said, releasing him. “But Hale saved me. He saved all of us.”
Hale and Lucas looked at each other across the room, a whirlwind of emotions between them.
They had been on opposite sides. Hale had helped the Apricans murder the rest of Lucas’s family. He had killed Virgil himself. She didn’t know if Lucas could set that aside. Could ever see him as anything but an enemy.
Lucas untwined his arms from around her and walked stiffly to stand before Hale. He looked down, blowing out a breath.
Hale regarded him with wariness.
“I used to think I knew what was right and what was wrong, that everything was black and white. I don’t have those compunctions anymore. I’ve learned there’re only people you can count on, no matter how dark it gets, how bad it looks. And everyone else. If what Wren says is true, then you have my thanks.”
Hale nodded.
Wren fought back the tears that were threatening to pour from her. And then a thought struck her like a bolt of lightning. “The poison,” she said. “Hale, Daemastra said without his antidote taken each day, you’ll die.”
Hale nodded but walked across the room, stepping over Daemastra’s body to open one of the cabinets. He retrieved a vial, and then pulled another vial out of his pocket. He poured a few drops of the one from his pocket into the other. “Another gift from Guildmaster Pike. The real infusion Daemastra was looking for. The one that slows time to a crawl. The one that makes something permanent.” He threw back the antidote, drinking it down.
The black lines in his hands began to recede and disappear, leaving healthy tanned flesh in their wake. It was a miracle. The Spicer’s Guild potion had made the antidote permanent.
“Don’t worry about me, Wren,” Hale said with a tired wink. “I have a way of getting lucky.”
Chapter 49
They walked through the palace slowly, stepping past limp and shriveled bodies that had once been Daemastra’s supernatural soldiers. Lucas had his arm slung around Wren’s shoulders, refusing to break contact. That was just fine with her. She didn’t think she ever wanted to leave his side.
“I thought you were dead twice over,” she murmured into his shirt. “I can’t believe you’re really here. That it’s really over.”
“Callidus saved me,” Lucas said. “And Thom.”
“What?” she asked, turning to Callidus in disbelief.
He nodded sagely, a smile tugging the corner of his thin lips. “The Confectioner’s Guild doesn’t leave any behind.”
Wren looked from Callidus to Hale as gratitude flooded through her like a shot of powerful whiskey. “No. It doesn’t.”
Callidus looked at Hale for an inscrutable second before nodding, clapping Hale on the shoulder. “No one’s insulted my suits in at least a week. Welcome back, Mr. Firena.”
Hale just grinned.
With each step, they gathered more allies.
“Where did all these legionnaires come from?” Wren asked, marveling at the uniformed men who fell into step behind them.
“It seems Dash didn’t betray us after all. He stayed behind to rally some friends to our cause,” Thom said, his hand intertwined with Trick’s.
The emperor met them in the junction of the hallways.
“Will you honor your promise?” Lucas asked, one hand tightening on his sword, the other wrapped protectively around Wren. “Will you surrender?”
“You’ve rid us of my troublesome cuisinier?” the emperor asked, raising one furry eyebrow.
“He rid us of himself,” Hale responded. “With his lust for power.”
The emperor nodded, straightening. “Then I don’t have long b
efore that wretched poison takes me. Yes, Lucas Imbris. I surrender to you. Alesia is yours, and Tamros, if you can take it. The Apricans are a troublesome bunch, so I wouldn’t suggest trying to extend your influence so far.”
“All I want is Alesia,” Lucas said. “So I can give it back to the people.”
“Very well,” the emperor said. He raised his voice. “Let it be known that on this day, I cede my claim to the country of Alesia to King Lucas Imbris.”
“Thank you,” Lucas said.
Wren squeezed his hand, fighting back tears.
They walked together towards the palace gates, past the bodies of fallen Aprican and guild guards alike. “I don’t have much time,” the emperor said. “I need to get my affairs in order.”
“You know,” Hale said as he stepped forward, “I think I might have a remedy for what ails you.”
“Do tell,” the emperor said, drawing nearer.
But a group of people running through the front doors drew Wren’s attention. Olivia and Dash and Ella. And so many more, people she hadn’t seen in weeks—Lennon and Marina and Chandler and Bruxius and all the rest. Guildmaster Pike, with one arm around Griff’s shoulders, the other in a sling. His legs were shaky and his face pinched in pain, but he was alive.
Wren ran to him and wrapped careful arms around him, pulling him tight.
“I heard a commotion and I thought I’d take a peek,” Pike said. “I found this one looking like a wild banshee.”
Griff laughed before her eyes went wide. “Excuse me,” she said. “I think I just saw a ghost.”
Wren looked back as she watched Griff stride up to Hale, punching him in the arm with all her might.
Wren turned back to Pike, smoothing his hair back from his slick brow. She saw that the arm strapped to his chest was missing from the elbow down. The little jar in the workshop... When she spoke her words were quiet. Reverent. “What you did...what you sacrificed...you saved us all. Every last one of us.”
“I just did what she would have done,” Pike said, his voice hoarse.
Wren pulled him back into a hug, kissing him on the cheek. “It’s the best any of us can do,” she whispered.
She turned back from Pike, the scene glittering through refracted tears. Hugs and tears and kisses were being passed around, and Wren was surprised to find herself in Ella’s arms next, the princess squeezing her soundly. “Thank you. For Maradis,” she said, then she turned away, no doubt before she was caught with her icy demeanor down.
“Lucas,” Ella called.
Lucas strode over from where he was shaking hands with a bloodied-but-whole Guildmaster Chandler.
“Look what I found.” Ella pulled an emerald cloth out from under her arm. “Would you like to do the honors?”
Wren peered around Lucas’s shoulder trying to decipher what the siblings had exchanged.
“You know, I always resented this thing,” Lucas said. “But I think I never understood the cost. Come on.”
Lucas pulled her through the gaping front doors of the palace into the courtyard, where the first glimpse of morning sun was peeking over the eastern horizon, highlighting the snowcapped crags of the Cascadian mountains. Into the courtyard. To the flagpole that flew a sky-blue flag stitched with a golden sunburst.
“Hold this?” Lucas handed the green cloth to her. He untied the rope, and hand over hand, pulled the Aprican flag down.
Wren handed back the bundle and watched with tears in her eyes as Lucas replaced the flag with the emerald green banner of Alesia.
Lucas hoisted it up to cheers and clapping from the people gathered below, finally tying off the rope as the flag reached the top of the pole. He wrapped his arm back around Wren’s shoulders, kissing her temple. She hadn’t realized the cost either. Until now. This was her home. These were her people. And there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t give for them.
The flag cracked in the breeze, billowing open to display a silver Imbris falcon in flight emblazoned across the middle. Wren felt her heart soar with it—into the dawn of a new day.
Epilogue
“A little higher,” Wren said, squinting into the morning sun, eying the banner. “The left side’s a little low. Just an inch...”
“Good?” Lucas asked.
“My arms are getting tired,” Thom complained.
“Perfect!” Wren cried.
Thom and Lucas stood on two chairs, tying off the ropes that held a bright pink banner fluttering over the door of the shop. Grand Opening, it announced boldly.
Lucas hopped down, striding over, snaking his arms around Wren’s waist from behind as he surveyed his and Thom’s handiwork over her head. She leaned back into him, admiring the view as Thom joined them too, dusting off his hands. “Cake & Cone.” Thom read the wooden sign emblazoned above the banner. “Infused and Artisanal Ice Cream and Confections. I still think we should have gone with Cone & Cake.”
Wren rolled her eyes. “We flipped a coin! My suggestion won.”
“About that. How do I know you weren’t...influencing the coin?” Thom raised an eyebrow.
Wren opened her mouth in mock affront. “Are you suggesting I would use my luck to influence something so important as the name of our shop? I am outraged at the suggestion.”
Lucas chuckled, his chest rumbling pleasantly against her.
“Maradis’s first shop for infused goods. It’s a new era,” Lucas said, tactfully changing the subject.
“And we’re so pleased to have the king’s personal endorsement.” Thom inclined his head.
Lucas groaned. “Please don’t call me that. It’s bad enough to have the entire Guild and Nobles’ Councils lurking around every corner, trying to ingratiate themselves with me! I keep telling them that I’m only standing in until the election, and then I’ll have zero power over anything.”
“I don’t know,” Wren said, turning in Lucas’s arms and kissing him on the cheek. “You have some sort of power over me.”
He grinned. “A power I must only use for good.”
“I don’t know.” A sly smile curved across her lips. “Maybe you could use it for bad.”
Lucas’s response was lost as a new voice joined them. “Ew,” Trick said, walking up, a brown paper package under one arm. “There’s nothing more tacky than a public display of affection,” he said before wrapping his arms around Thom and dipping him back, giving him a thorough kiss.
Thom’s cheeks were red as Trick let him back up for air—his smile ear-to-ear.
“Thanks for coming,” Wren said.
Trick handed her the package. “A christening present for your new baby,” he said, nodding towards the shop.
“Aww. Should I open it now?” Wren asked.
He nodded, and Lucas unwound his arms from her as she pulled the brown paper off of the gift. She opened the box and lifted out a crisp white linen apron embroidered in silver thread with the diamond logo of her and Thom’s new shop, a stylized ice cream cone on the bottom, a swirl of cupcake frosting on the top.
Wren pressed her hand to her heart. “I love it, Trick.”
Thom and Trick wore matching grins. “He already gave me mine,” Thom said. “Aren’t they cool?”
Wren pulled the apron over her head, tying it over her lavender dress.
“You know, I have a present for you too,” Lucas said, taking one of her hands, the other reaching in his pocket to pull out a little blue velvet box.
“You helped so much with the shop, even with all your other duties,” Wren said, touched but wary about the size of that box. Though the past few peaceful months with Lucas had felt like a dream, she didn’t think she was ready for what kind of step came in boxes of that size—that shape.
“I wanted to.” He handed it to her.
Wren took in a breath as she opened the lid, the hinge creaking. A silver key lay inside.
She looked at him with surprise. “What’s this?”
Thom and Trick were trying to act nonchalant and give them a moment, bu
t she could tell out of the corner of her eye that they were watching with keen interest.
“I got a new apartment,” Lucas said. “I don’t like living in the palace, and I won’t after the election. This new place is bigger than my old one. Big enough for two. I thought...maybe you’d like to live there with me.”
Wren’s mouth formed a little O as relief welled in her. “You’re asking me to move in with you?” she asked, delight swirling within her like molten chocolate.
“Would you?” Lucas asked, nerves written across his face.
“Of course!” she cried, throwing her arms around him. “I’d love to!”
Lucas swung her around once before putting her down and giving her a kiss.
Wren shoved an auburn curl out of her face. “I thought...well, never mind. I’d love to move in.”
Thom let out a barking laugh. “My god, man! I thought you were proposing!”
“Proposing?” Lucas looked at Thom with horror, then back to Wren. “Did you think...? Did you want...?”
She shook her head. “I think moving in is the perfect first step.”
“Next time don’t go for the ring box, brother.” Trick clapped Lucas on his shoulder.
Wren just laughed, holding the box to her chest.
“Should we go in?” Lucas asked, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Please, something to put me out of my misery.”
Wren nodded and with a smile pushed her way into the shop. The silver bell tinkled as the door opened. She looked over the inside with a swell of pride. She and Thom had designed the entire shop themselves, from the whitewashed brick wall to the funky iron chandeliers that hung from the soaring rafters to the tables crafted from gnarled wood from the Cascadian foothills. A chalkboard behind the counter announced their day’s offerings: Thom’s newly dreamed-up flavors of ice cream on the left, her cupcakes and confections on the right. A sleek silver espresso machine nestled against the back counter, offering whatever else a Maradis native might need.
The bell tinkled again and Wren turned to find Callidus and Olivia stepping through the door. Despite the unseasonably warm February day, Callidus was swathed in a black pinstripe suit, his ebony hair in a perfect coif. Olivia wore a bright coral dress cinched with a leather belt, her blonde curls bouncing. She gave Wren a tight embrace. “Are we your first customers?”
