The laughter eased the emotions. And at last Shaina was alone with the man who was her destiny, who had always been her destiny. Her bonded mate.
And the father of their child. A child who had his own magnificent destiny, if the old man was to be believed.
She believed him.
Epilogue
KING DARIAN OF Trios arose early. He walked quietly to the window of the royal bedchamber and looked out at the pink and orange streaks that heralded the coming sunrise. He smiled as in the distance he saw a familiar silhouette against the sunrise. A kingbird, soaring. They were returning, as Trios healed.
The grounds were still deserted at this early hour. For a moment he simply savored the peace of it. A peace hard won. The cost had been high, many had died to do it. He doubted anyone would take it for granted, here or on Arellia, ever again.
A movement caught his eye. Two people stepped out of the lower palace doors, into the courtyard. Close together, arm in arm, dark head bent to golden, they walked in silence, as if they were savoring the peace as was he. Rina and her Tark, Dare thought. The hero of Galatin, twice over. He could not have picked a better man for her.
When Rina had told him, privately, of the isolation he had endured, of the way his own people had rejected him as a symbol of a time they wished to forget, he was incensed. He had moved quickly to offer him that rarest of things, a royal offer of immediate citizenship.
“You mean . . . become Triotian?” Tark had asked, seeming startled.
“I do.”
“But I know what is required. I can bring nothing of value you do not already have.”
“You would be welcome even if you were not already a hero, a legend among us.” Dare liked him even more for the way he shook his head in bemused doubt at that. “You would be welcome because you have brought joy to someone very important to many Triotians. Rina was a symbol of what we nearly lost, a child regained, hope renewed.”
“I do not deserve her,” he said. “But I do love her. Beyond measure.”
“I believe that. That and my respect for you as a man makes you someone I greatly wish to stay.”
“I thought . . . more was required to become Triotian.”
“I should think the word of the king would do,” he had said dryly then. “And if not mine, then the hundreds of others who would line up to put their name down for you. We have peace once more, and there is no one on Trios who does not know we have you to thank for it.”
He had meant it. He meant it still, as he watched the couple walk toward the lightening sky. Thanks to Tark the enemy had been pushed back again, perhaps forever. They had never expected the resistance that had met them on Arellia. They were in a shambles, and word had come last night that they appeared to be retreating from the sector altogether.
They had never even set foot on Trios this time.
And they never would. He would see to that. And when his time was past, Lyon would see to it. And then his son after him.
His chest tightened. For the first time, he saw his years as a slave as insignificant. If that was the price for the joy he had now, he would pay it again, gladly.
It had been a long, hard journey since the Coalition had first invaded and conquered this gem among worlds. His people had been slaughtered. He had endured his father’s brutal end, then the guilt and horror over the death of his childhood love, Brielle, Dax’s own sister, followed by his own enslavement. For a very long time, when he had believed there was no one else left alive, he had wished for death, for an end to the torment.
He turned to look over his shoulder to where Shaylah lay sleeping. She had, with her courage, her conviction, and her unfailing sense of what was right, changed everything. Not merely his fate, but he himself. In one of his few fanciful moments, he once had thought that when he had first seen her was the instant when everything started to change, when the momentum shifted, leading them to this time.
Through Shaylah had come Califa, once his fiercest enemy, now a trusted friend. He would have forgiven her much for what she had done for Dax, the man who had ever been his brother in spirit if not in blood. But now he accepted her for herself, for a woman who had changed herself at the very core, for the love of a once-tortured lost soul. Dax, who had been lost to Trios as so much had, but had finally come home and was now all Dare had known he could be. The greatest flashbow warrior Trios had ever seen. At least, Dare thought with a smile, until his daughter took over one future day. He thought Shaina, her father forgiven and her path now straight and true, would match him.
And most of all Lyon, so strongly certain of himself and his destiny. Dare acknowledged the ache inside at the tragedy they had so barely escaped, but it was eclipsed by the pride that filled him at the man his son had become.
They had fulfilled that destiny, these two, and were without doubt the pair to fulfill the new one, they and their child.
His grandson.
He felt a shiver as memories swept him, of the days when his mind, his body, his very soul had not been his own. Of the days when the treatment he had endured had made him doubtful he could ever sire children.
Shaylah slipped up behind him, slid her arms around his waist, and held him tightly. All the memories vanished at her precious touch, replaced by the warmth and joyfulness only she brought to him.
“It is well done, my love.”
He put a hand over hers. “None of it would be as it is now, if not for you.”
“Us,” she said. “None of it began until there was us.”
“And our son, and then our grandchild will see Trios into the future.”
“He will.”
“I love you, my queen.”
“Would you care to prove that, your majesty?”
With a joyous laugh he turned, took into his arms the woman who had saved him from so much more than slavery.
“Indeed I would,” he said, and swept her up in his arms and carried her back to their bed.
And he found joy almost unbearable as the sun rose over Trios.
The End
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About the Author
“Some people call me a writer, some an author, some a novelist. I just say I’m a storyteller.”
—Justine Dare Davis
Author of more than sixty books (she sold her first ten in less than two years), Justine Dare Davis is a four-time winner of the coveted RWA RITA Award, and has been inducted into the RWA Hall of Fame. Her books have appeared on national best-seller lists, including USA Today. She has been featured on CNN, taught at several national and international conferences, and at the UCLA writer’s program.
After years of working in law enforcement, and more years doing both, Justine now writes full time. She lives near beautiful Puget Sound in Washington state, peacefully coexisting with deer, bears, raccoons, a newly arrived covey of quail, a pair of bald eagles, and her beloved ’67 Corvette roadster. When she’s not writing, taking photographs, looking for music to blast in said roadster, or driving said roadster (and yes, it goes very fast), she tends to her knitting. Literally.
Find out more at her website and blog (where she posts some of those photos) at justinedavis.com, Facebook at JustineDareDavis (which also gets photos), or Twitter @Justine_D_Davis (which mostly gets odd observations, favorite quotes, interesting links, and the occasional question flung into the ether).
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Rebel Prince (The Coalition Rebellion Novels Book 3) Page 40
