by Marisa Mills
Gabriel’s room was comparatively lavish, for the Scraps, but then he’d always lived better than those under his command. He had a bed, complete with a bedframe and blankets. There was a shelf filled with books—manuals of rocks and minerals, guides to herbs, and books of maps—and little knick-knacks. A brass thimble, a knife, a wooden box, and a chipped cup. A coat hanging on a chair, as if Gabriel had just left it and was set to return any moment.
It was a meager existence, but I once would’ve considered these to be the marks of a wealthy man. Had having so little made Gabriel so awful? Or had he always been that way? I bit my lip as a rat scuttled past. The light landed on the wooden box again. It was red-brown in color and polished to a shine. Rosewood, I realized.
I took the box and opened it, revealing some herbs I didn’t recognize and a small pipe. Why did Gabriel have this in his bedroom? Rosewood wasn’t native to Plumba. I bit the inside of my cheek. I drifted on and entered Gabriel’s study. It looked so sparse and small now. Frost crackled and formed along the concrete, heralding Johanna’s arrival. With a smile, I sat in Gabriel’s old chair and waited. True to his word, Dorian had released Johanna and the other demons locked away in the Rosewood vault. Most of them had fled, but Johanna had chosen to stay. She was a sly and dramatic creature, in the shape of a fluffy, long-eared rabbit, who took great delight in accompanying Dorian’s every footstep with snow and ice, even in the heat of summer.
Hello, Wynter, she said.
“Hello, Johanna,” I replied.
Dorian entered, gracefully elegant as always. Snowflakes were tangled in his hair, and ice clung to his wool coat. He swept into a low bow.
“Good evening, Your Royal Highness,” he said. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
Not really. I’d wanted to be alone, but it seemed almost fitting that he’d follow me here. Poetic, even. This was where we’d met.
“You’re being a bit hasty with the titles, aren’t you?” I asked.
Although Alexander and I announced our engagement several months ago, we weren’t married yet. I wasn’t a princess, just the granddaughter of a countess.
When Dorian straightened, his blue eyes shined with mischief. He flung himself over the battered, old sofa and stretched languidly, ignoring the cloud of dust rising around him.
“The best way to ensure something comes true is through repetition,” Dorian said.
I do wish your hair would turn white already, Johanna sighed. Other mages have nice, white hair. And yours is…hideous.
Dorian wrinkled his nose. “That’s not what I meant by repetition. And aside from my mother, you are the only woman ever to tell me I look hideous. I’m hurt.”
It was hidden by clothing, but I knew Dorian had Nick’s sigil tattooed over his collarbone. It had taken a long time to make my blood work with the ink, but in the end, we’d managed to create a sigil that could be tattooed and remain powerful. And still, we were doing research in creating sigils and learning about demons. Professor Gareth and Elaine had been appointed as the heads of the Academy’s new demonology department, and every day, we came closer to learning more.
I’m going to explore, Johanna said, sounding bored.
“Enjoy yourself, dear,” Dorian said.
Johanna bounded away, her paws silent on the concrete floor.
“What are you doing down here?” I asked.
Dorian tilted his head towards me. “I’m looking for a girl, a pretty one. I don’t suppose you’ve got one you can lend me?”
I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth.
“Is that really how you asked Gabriel for me?”
“Of course, it was,” Dorian replied. “If you’d been hideous, I’d have left you.”
“I was so terrified of you,” I admitted.
Dorian’s face softened. “I didn’t exactly make it easy for you to trust me,” he said. “I wouldn’t trust a man who bought me.”
“You don’t make anything easy,” I replied. “I’d warrant that you still have a few schemes flitting about that I don’t even know about.”
“Oh, yes. But at present, my most pressing scheme involves ensuring that my own niece doesn’t miss my wedding,” Dorian replied. “Do I need to lecture you about the importance of this union?”
Kit had been good for his word and rewritten the marriage laws to ensure that Dorian could marry Francisca without sacrificing his title. This would be the very first marriage between a nobleman of Reverie and a common woman from the Lower Realms, and when Francisca married Dorian, she’d become the first common-blooded noblewoman.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I replied. “I just needed to grab something.”
“Here?” Dorian asked, glancing skeptically around the ruined building.
I reached behind the couch and slipped my hand into a thin tear across the fabric, digging through the stuffing of the cushions until I felt something cold and metal. I pulled it out with a triumphant grin.
“I was wondering where you’d stashed that,” Dorian said, eyeing my grandmother’s sapphire tiara.
“I left it when we were here last time. I never really had a need for it, but I wanted to give it to Francisca, for luck. It’s a superstition we have down here. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.”
“Well, Amelia was certainly old. I’m not sure about borrowed, though I suppose it has been stolen several times and I guess that counts. What about the new?”
“It’s not exactly Francisca’s style,” I said, “but perhaps you could turn it into a very elegant dagger or something?”
“I think she’d like that,” Dorian said.
“What do you make of this?” I asked, dropping the box onto Dorian’s chest. He arched an eyebrow and opened the box. For a long moment, he stared at the contents.
“Please, tell me you haven’t been smoking opium,” he said. “That’s a terrible pastime for a young woman.”
“That’s opium?” I asked.
“It is,” he replied.
I couldn’t recall Gabriel every smoking anything. Maybe he’d had this to sell.
“I actually meant the box,” I said awkwardly.
“It’s rosewood,” he said.
“Which isn’t native to Plumba,” I said. “And it’s expensive, right?”
Dorian smiled. “What point are you making?” he asked.
I glared at him. “How did Gabriel get it?”
“You ask a lot of questions. Why does it matter?”
“Just tell me, old man,” I said.
“But I so seldom have mysteries these days, Wynter,” Dorian said.
“Uncle,” I pleaded, placing my hands on my hips.
“Fine.” Dorian raised his hands in surrender. “After Amelia died, I began sorting through Mother’s financial records, which is partly how I found you, incidentally. I noticed that my mother, who hated the Lower Realms, had several receipts and records of going to Plumba. These were obviously from where she sent Gwen to leave you. But when I looked further back, I realized that Mother also made a trip here, many years before Gwen was born. Before any of us were born.”
“Are you telling me Gabriel actually was my uncle?”
Dorian sat up abruptly. He looked so offended that I nearly laughed. “I would fall upon my own sword,” he said, with an aristocratic sniff. “That’s the most awful thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Apologies, Your Lordship,” I replied.
“And no,” Dorian said. “But I think Amelia may have also had an illegitimate daughter she left in the Scraps. It’s not implausible that Claribel is your aunt, and Sterling is your cousin.”
“How?” I asked.
“I’d like to say I have some clever answer,” Dorian said, “But I don’t. I do, however, have two ancestors named—”
“Clarence and Bella,” I said, the realization striking me at once.
“Exactly.”
Dorian shrugged. “When it’s suitably dramatic. Don’t ruin this for me.”
I tried not to smile at him. “You’re impossible,” I said.
“You sound like Eleanor,” he said, with a sad smile. He rarely mentioned his sister, but I knew he missed her terribly. Now, he had Francisca, and maybe Claribel—if what he said was true, she’d be his sister.
Viviane will be furious is she finds out Sterling has more mage blood than she does, Lucian said.
“Without a doubt,” Dorian said, “which is why I want to be the one to deliver the news. However, if we can prove he’s a Rosewood, it shouldn’t be difficult to assign him a nice mayorship in the Lower Realms. If I may suggest a new name, however? Scrapton has a nice ring to it.”
“Who would have thought,” I said. “Sterling a mayor.”
Dorian swung his legs on to the floor and sat upright.
“Have you decided that Plumba is going to be your next investment?”
“You always make good deeds sound so selfish,” I said.
“I don’t mean to,” Dorian replied. “I’d wondered when you were going to return here, actually. What did you have planned for the place? I suppose it’s yours now.”
I took a deep breath and steeled myself, looking around at the ruined station. I had the beginnings of an idea, but I’d only shared it with a few people, because I still had so many details to sort out. “I like the direction Reverie is going,” I said slowly, “and Aubade as well. But…I know there are still people struggling in the Scraps. I want to help them become more than just service providers. They should be able to aspire to more than just cleaning up after spoiled mages.”
I paused, waiting to see if Dorian would take offense, but he leaned forward, motioning for me to continue.
“I want to create a place meant for demons, mages, and humans to live together,” I said. “If mages destroyed this area, surely, we can rebuild it into something... better.” I gestured lamely. Dorian glanced around at the underground shell of a structure, the cracked walls and crumbling ceiling.
“That’ll be a lot of work,” he said.
“I know,” I replied, “but Jessa agreed to contribute her knowledge of plants and plant magic to help us build a garden here.”
“A garden?”
“Like on your estate,” I said, “but with food. Tatiana is already researching for the hardiest plants that we can use. I think I can probably convince Alexander to help. Of course, Sterling, Briar, and Claribel have agreed. And I’ve already been in talks with Kit. He’s agreed to turn the Dregs into a sanctuary for monsters. Briar will manage it. Alexander will ask the council for funding to create a proper recycling program for the discarded mage tech, as well as an incentive program for turning in existing enchanted objects so the demons can be freed and returned home properly. Unless they wish to remain. In which case, they’ll need a safe space.”
“It sounds lovely,” Dorian said, “and ambitious. I approve.”
“But I might need a geologist,” I said slyly, “someone who understands the way that minerals and the earth work. Do you know anyone?”
“And my mother said my interest in rocks and gemstones would never benefit anyone,” Dorian replied.
“Here’s your chance to prove her wrong.”
“Why not?” he asked.
I leaned over the arm of my chair and placed a quick kiss on his cheek.
“Thank you, Uncle,” I said.
“Anytime, Dear,” he replied. “Consider it my…apology for missing so many of your birthdays.”
Lucian’s thoughts burst into my mind like a star. I took in a deep breath, enjoying the familiar warmth and comfort of his flames. Despite all the memories of my abusive childhood, I could envision this place being the site for my father’s dream. A home, where demons and mages and humans all lived together.
We walked back to the station together and took a tram up into the kingdom, watching the sky turn orange and purple in the setting sun. When we reached the Rosewood estate, it was lit up with hanging lanterns. Near the edge of a garden, a white gazebo was wreathed in red roses. Folding chairs filled the grass, looking out into the Lower Realms. My friends were waiting for me on the edge of the guests, in colorful dresses and dark suits. Alexander handed me a glass of sparkling wine, and we sat to watch the ceremony. As soon as it was over, fireworks exploded over the estate. The guests laughed as Lucian darted after them, snapping at the shimmering sparks as they fell between the stars. Alexander leaned over and squeezed my hand when the music started, before pulling me towards the dance floor.
“We’ve fallen out of the sky, defeated a conspiracy and saved a kingdom. I think it’s about time we had our first real dance.”
“I don’t know,” I said, smiling. “The last time you asked me, we were attacked by a demon. Do you really want to tempt fate again?”
Alexander leaned forward and nuzzled my neck with his lips.
“For you, always. Just try not to step on my feet.”
THE END
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AUTHOR’S NOTE
This series started from a dream, and Marisa and I (Drake) loved developing Wynter’s story. We wanted to create a new fantasy world, harnessing the energy of voiceless demons, and flying kingdoms on the verge of collapse. Tying up all the threads in the last book took months to figure out. We really hope you enjoyed it! If you liked this series, we hope you’ll consider posting a quick review on Amazon. Every review helps new readers discover the Falling Kingdoms Series, and sometimes our readers give the best suggestions. Let us know what you loved, or what you didn’t, and we’ll take your feedback to heart.
Sincerely,
The Authors
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