by Juniper Hart
Keppler and Bryn laughed, rising together as Wilder nodded in agreement.
“Does that mean we’re moving back into the palace?” Gregor asked.
“No!” Bryn cried hotly. “We will all live in the Sunside, under the warmth of the sunlight. We’ve endured enough cold, and the Hollows have given us enough grief.”
“Excuse me?” Wilder demanded, his face staining crimson. “If you’re going to rule, you’re going to rule in the Hollows!”
“We will rule wherever we damn well please,” Keppler answered, his arm snaking around Bryn’s waist to kiss her sweetly on the neck. Instantly, he felt her fall back against him, and he knew without a doubt that she felt secure in his arms.
“We’ll have to discuss this,” Wilder growled, stalking off to sulk, probably.
“Is he always so uptight?” Artemis asked, and Keppler laughed out loud in response.
“Only on days ending in ‘y,’” he joked. He let Artemis and Gregor trample ahead of them, and he turned to Bryn when they were alone. “You’ve made me the happiest being in the Hollows,” he said. “And we will live anywhere you want. With your brothers.”
Bryn’s eyes bulged, and she gasped, shaking her head. “No way!” she cried, waving her hands. “I’ve had enough of mine. And yours.”
Keppler had never loved her more than he had in that moment. “I love you, my princess.”
Bryn smiled up at him, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “I love you, my prince.”
This time, Keppler was certain the tears were ones of happiness.
Epilogue
“I never knew you had brothers,” Damon whispered, and the jealousy in his voice was unmistakable.
“I hadn’t seen them in a while,” Bryn replied with a roll of her eyes, adjusting the bowtie on his tuxedo. He seemed extremely uncomfortable in the bright ballroom of the Bently Reserve, out of his element and ready to flee. “Hey,” Bryn whispered, leaning in closely. “I have a special surprise for you.”
Damon blinked at her uncomprehendingly. “It’s your wedding, and you have a surprise for me?”
“It’s nothing big,” she promised, waving at him to follow her. They retreated into the coatroom, closing the door. Sitting on the abandoned counter was a pizza box. Damon gaped at her.
“You brought pizza to a place like this?” he gawked. “There’s freaking caviar and champagne out there!”
“But are there delicious slices of cheese pizza with extra garlic?” Bryn asked. Damon let out a loud laugh then suddenly clapped a hand over his mouth, as if he worried that someone would catch them. “Damon,” she called him gently, “you can laugh, you know.”
She had forgotten she had the sadness now settling in her heart. They had been hidden and scared for so long that they were afraid to do something as common as laughing.
“I know,” Damon mumbled, uncovering his mouth. “It’s just so weird. Everything’s changed so much in the last six months.”
“Changed for the better or the worse?” Bryn asked, slipping onto the counter, her long, white skirts falling into a mass of crinoline and silk around her as she opened the box to retrieve their food.
“I’m not sure,” he confessed. “Sometimes I think the former; sometimes the latter.”
Bryn grinned ruefully. “I know what you mean. But you have to admit, it’s nice living without feeling like someone is chasing us all the time, isn’t it?”
Damon nodded vehemently, eating his first bite. With a mouthful of pizza, he asked, “Are you happy, Bryn?”
The question took Bryn by surprise, and she stared at Damon’s inquisitive face for a long moment, considering the answer. How could she not be happy? She had everything she’d ever dreamed of, everything she never thought she’d have. All three of her brothers had finally been issued a clean bill of health, though Jace’s lungs had been severely damaged from the excessive cold.
“They’ll never reclaim their powers again,” the Hollows doctor told them with certainty. “But he will live a long, healthy life.”
“Eternal life?” Bryn asked, unsure of what would be worse: an eternal life with no powers of any kind, or a mortal life where he would die, leaving Bryn to suffer the most devastating loss.
Dr. Barrows had laughed. “Now that, I cannot tell you,” he said, smiling. “That is for the gods to decide.”
That answer was the most terrifying of them all.
Dr. Barrows continued, “But, they have survived five thousand years thus far. I don’t think they will be leaving this Earth anytime soon.”
That answer gave Bryn a sense of relief.
Gregor, Artemis, and Jace moved into one of Keppler’s inns on the shore, although Wilder also set them up with a suite each in the palace, “Just in case you wish to stay,” he had said.
But they were mortals now. They wanted to bask in the sunshine and forget the life they had been given in the Hollows. They weren’t dragons anymore. They were red-blooded men.
Anyway, Wilder had set up the suites as a way to bridge peace between him and Bryn, too. He wanted her and Keppler back in the palace as a married couple, showing solidarity and peace among two dragon kingdoms which had once been at terrible war.
Word in the Trenches was that he was selling it as some political slogan about “love conquering battles.” Bryn didn’t heed it much from her end. It didn’t matter what Wilder was going on about; she was done with the Hollows.
She knew that Keppler still had business there, and she would occasionally join him. Mostly, though, she was happy staying in the Sunside, learning how to enjoy the simplest pleasures in life, like reading and fine wine.
Bryn had an overwhelming sense of guilt for the robberies she had committed. She realized how ridiculous it was to seek revenge on the descendants of the mortals who she thought had helped kill her parents. Keppler helped her anonymously return their stolen goods, at least the ones that were still in her possession. Additionally, she provided each family with a hefty sum of money for their troubles.
Chester and Alma were both locked up in the psych ward because of their incessant ramblings about dragons. They were no longer a threat.
“I am as happy as I’ve ever been,” Bryn answered sincerely, smiling at Damon. “Sometimes I worry that the other shoe will drop and I will find myself somewhere else, alone and without a soul who loves me.”
“Impossible.” She and Damon turned as the door opened and Keppler entered, looking dashing in his double-breasted tuxedo, brown hair swept away from his face.
“How do you know?” Bryn asked, slipping off the counter to embrace him. “Are you a fortune teller now?”
“No,” Keppler replied, winking playfully at Damon, who blushed and turned back to his pizza. “I just know that I loved you before I ever met you. So even if you were to wake up in that ridiculous place you just spoke about, I would love you, even if you don’t know it.”
It was the sweetest, oddest thing Bryn had ever heard, but it was typical of Keppler, filled with an honesty that filled her heart.
“I can see why you married him,” Damon chirped. “He’s got the lines.”
“He’s got a lot of things,” Bryn agreed, staring up into her husband’s eyes.
“Yeah, but she’s got the good food. Why didn’t you bring me something?” Keppler groaned. “Who did this menu?”
“Your pretentious brother,” Bryn reminded him, fully knowing his question had been rhetorical. “He insisted on hiring the wedding planner as a compromise...” She trailed off, not wanting to disclose too much in front of Damon, but her friend was in his own love affair with the food.
She and Keppler had finally relented to Wilder’s endless caterwauling after they had decided not to have the wedding at the palace. Bryn had never seen such a display in her life, but at the same time, she couldn’t help feeling endeared by the odd closeness Keppler and Wilder shared. It was a turbulent relationship, but what family didn’t have those?
This is my family now
, Bryn thought. I have to set up staunch boundaries with them, but they are my family all the same.
“Aside from stealing your pizza, I also came to tell you that my drunken brothers and yours are about to start making speeches,” Keppler informed her, and Bryn chuckled, her eyes gleaming.
“Well, we don’t want to miss that, do we?”
“I could do without it,” Damon muttered, causing the couple to laugh.
“Are you ready, Princess Bryn?” Keppler asked, extending his arm toward her.
“I am, Your Highness,” she breathed, accepting it, her eyes still glued to his face.
Together, they stepped out of the coatroom, ready to face whatever was ahead of them as man and wife, rulers of the Hollows.
THE END
Preview: Fated Mate
Preview
Fated Mate
by Juniper Hart
Sometimes, when the winds settled, Nora would sit by the window in her studio and stare into the blinding snow, losing herself in the whiteness for hours. It seemed such a contrast to the dark images on her canvasses, the bloody reds and blacks melding together in a splotchy mess.
It was easy to do when Jerome was gone and she was left alone with no one but the house staff and her thoughts.
How many years have we lived in this forsaken place? she asked herself that morning, but she immediately dismissed the question, refusing to fall into the pit of despair threatening to consume her. She didn’t know where this melancholy had come from—she only knew that it was slowly starting to pile atop her shoulders.
The more Nora thought about it, the less she was able to remember a time before their escape to the alps. Though the fact depressed her greatly, there was no one she could speak to about it; no one but the white canvasses around her, which turned black with her innermost thoughts.
Sighing, she turned away from the endless falling snow and gazed at her supplies, wondering if she would get any work done soon.
It is not as if anyone is waiting on me, Nora thought with some bitterness.
It had been quite a long time since a deadline had created a light of excitement in her soul. Gone were the days of agents and accounts. Then again, there had never truly been any people waiting to purchase one of her pieces.
Now, instead of the promise of business, all that remained was the icy, but beautiful, Swiss days and the long, starlit nights where she pined for a different time.
I can’t stay here, she thought mournfully. I will lose my mind.
Slowly, Nora rose from the cushioned window seat and reluctantly headed toward the door, her silk nightgown swirling around about her slender ankles as she moved. Tentatively, she opened the door and peered into the corridor before slipping out into the brightly lit house.
“Ah, mademoiselle!”
Nora froze in her tracks, slowly turning to address the woman who had called out to her: Collette, the housekeeper.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, smiling kindly. “I will fix you some breakfast, if you’d like.”
“No, thank you,” Nora said, immediately shaking her head.
Collette’s green eyes narrowed, and Nora could tell she was about to be lectured.
“Mademoiselle Nora,” she began, “you have not eaten properly in days. I realize that artistes are a different breed of person, but you are still a person, are you not? You must eat something! Monsieur Charpentier will be displeased when he calls for your update and I tell him you have not touched a morsel of food.”
Nora bit back a scathing remark and lowered her dark eyes toward the Calamander wood of the floor beneath her bare feet.
If Jerome has such concerns, he can deal with me himself, she thought to herself, but of course, she said nothing to Collette. It was not the housekeeper’s fault that she had been named babysitter to Nora while Jerome was gone. Why did she even require a babysitter in his absence? Was there something wrong with her? Did Jerome not trust her to be alone?
“I will fix you whatever you please, chérie,” Collette continued, eyeing her pleadingly, and Nora stifled a sigh. It wouldn’t do either of them any good, and she didn’t want to get Collette in trouble.
“Whatever you want, Collette,” she replied dully. “I just want to shower and change first.”
The older woman’s face exploded into a look of relief so great that Nora felt guilty for having been locked up in her room.
I am not the only one who is trapped under the thumb of that unbending brute, she thought, but she was again consumed with shame. Jerome loved her, and he only wanted what was best for her. How dare you think of him so rudely? You are lucky no one can hear your thoughts.
“What shall I have waiting for you, mademoiselle?” Collette pressed as Nora turned to leave.
Nora sighed to herself. “I… I will decide as I bathe.”
There was never enough quietness for her to get some peace of mind—not unless she sat inside her studio and lost herself in the snow globe of her life, disconnected from the rest of the household.
She ascended the floating staircase to the second floor of the chalet, vaguely aware of the skylights emanating weak, gray rays onto the pristine interior of the place she had called home.
Living in the alps had been Jerome’s idea all those years ago, and Nora tried to recall the excitement she experienced when he had first suggested it.
“Just imagine, chérie,” he had said, his blue eye glimmering with the prospect. “You and me in our own paradise, separated from the scandal of the rest of the world. No judgements, no distractions. Only each other and our art. We can finally live the life we have always dreamed about.”
It had been appealing, and it had been truly wonderful at first, but then his work had abruptly consumed his life, and suddenly, it was only Nora and her art rather than the two of them and their art.
Why does he leave me for such long periods? It was not a fair question to ask herself. Although Nora knew that Jerome didn’t have any other choice, she couldn’t help feeling resentful of him, despite being fully aware that, if she were in his shoes, she would do the exact same thing. If she were given a chance to leave this glass prison and meet with the outside world again, of course she would take it.
A pang of sadness filled her heart as she entered the master bedroom, slipping her nightgown over her head. Tossing the delicate item aside, she made her way into the spacious dressing room, another skylight illuminating the otherwise dim room.
Nora wanted to know what time it was, and she glanced around for a clock before remembering that, for being such a splendid home, there were so few clocks in the house.
Jerome preferred it that way.
“It is so much better without the constraints of time hanging over our heads, don’t you agree, chérie?” he often said, and Nora agreed with him, just like she always did.
Day and night were only marked by darkness and light, the hours losing their purpose as she grew more and more reclusive.
I still have my art, she told herself as she gazed at her naked frame in the mirror. If nothing else, I must remember I still have my art.
Jerome had once described her as ageless, a timeless beauty of classical proportions with the porcelain skin of a doll and the even features of a Madonna. A tangled mop of ebony hair spilled indifferently along her shoulders, almost touching her slender waist in a mass of unkempt waves.
Nora put her hands up to examine her reflection, fingertips tracing the lines of her full lips and high cheekbones. She leaned forward, studying the deep brown of her irises as though she could stare into her own soul.
Are you still in there? she asked herself. Am I still in there?
A noise in the bedroom caused her to whirl, and she gazed out into the master bedroom to see Alex tidying the chambers, oblivious to her naked employer watching.
Alex used the feather duster to work along the expensive furnishings, humming softly to herself as music apparently piped into her ears through her earbuds.
N
ora stepped back into the shadows of the dressing room, but she continued to watch the girl do her work. For a moment, Nora envied her. What she wouldn’t give to be a chambermaid again, emptying chamber pots and living her life as a free woman without the pain she had now.
Nora shook her head to herself. Where had that thought come from? She had never in her life been a chambermaid.
I was born into a rich family like a princess who found her handsome prince, she laughed to herself. A prince who swept me away to live in an ice palace.
“Mademoiselle Nora!”
She jumped at the startled cry from Alex when she finally noticed she had been watching her work. Nora forced a smile onto her face and showed herself before the young girl, who gaped at her in horror.
“I did not know you were here! Forgive me!” Alex continued, backing away, but Nora shook her head, her hair bobbing around her.
“I am glad you are here,” she said. “You can brush my hair before I bathe.”
Alex popped her earbuds out, her face stained with an embarrassed pink flush.
“Of course, mademoiselle,” the maid replied, darting her eyes downward. “I’ll find you a robe.”
Nora waved her hand dismissively.
“There is no need,” she told Alex. “I will shower directly after.”
Alex swallowed visibly, but she did not argue as Nora moved toward her before plopping down in the chair facing the vanity. Alex reached for a hair brush so that she could begin.
“How are you liking it here, Alex?” Nora asked as the girl gently tried to make sense of the mess that was her hair.
As Nora looked at her reflection, she wondered when was the last time she had brushed her hair? Had she truly wasted away so much time? So many days?
“Very much, mademoiselle,” Alex quickly answered. “Everyone is so nice here.”
A small smile formed on Nora’s lips. “Yes,” she agreed. “The staff is well screened. Jerome and I have little patience for drama, you see.”
