My wife gave a small sound of amusement. Emma poured herself some tea and added honey before she fed me a strawberry, putting a dot of cream on my nose.
It all felt so comforting and familiar. It was the same scene I’d imagined while undergoing the ceremony to return her to life, and it happened exactly at this moment, every detail playing out just as it should.
Emma’s words were true. We did choose our reality. I couldn’t be more grateful I’d chosen to spend every moment with her.
“Do you think this is everything we ever wanted?” Emma asked as she took a sip of tea.
“Not at all,” I replied. “It’s far more than I could’ve ever dreamed.”
Emma smiled as she bit into a cherry tart. I listened to the sound of the birds chirping and took a long pause to feel grateful for everything we’d gained.
The fae world was at peace. The Black Claw had been completely eliminated, Droga was locked securely in his grave, and the Unseelie and Seelie fae lived together in true harmony. Dolinska had been rebuilt, and all of the enslaved supernaturals and humans had been set free, and sent back to their societies.
We could wipe the minds of the humans with our magic, but we could not do the same with the supernaturals Droga had captured from other magical races. They would remember. And someday, the fae would pay the repercussions for what we’d done, though there was no telling when that would be.
I did not concern myself with fears about the future. My mate and I had been through the worst, and we’d come out of it despite all odds. Whatever shadows would next cross our doorstep, we would deal with once the time came.
The royal palace had been rebuilt, and Arcanea University converted back into a school. Unseelie classes were being taught at the university, and dark magic had become fully integrated into society. It seemed after centuries of being at war, the two different fae courts were willing to put their differences aside and live together as one.
“The press is reeling over what you did to those witches,” Emma said as ate a raspberry.
I shrugged. A group of witches had been caught along our border recently, spying for the Miriamic Coven. The public had demanded that they be hanged. I let them go unharmed. “Slaughtering people is not the way to run this country.”
“People will say we’re weak.”
“Let them. It’s harder to offer mercy than death.”
I was a changed man. I had hung up my sword and my armor, and vowed never to go back to war until I could no longer avoid it. Since I had taken Emma’s life while under Droga’s control, my eyes had been exposed to the truth.
I once believed that there was no price too great for saving the country, no individual that wasn’t worth sacrificing in the name of restoring peace amongst our people. Previously, I would’ve given up thousands of lives, if it meant preserving Malovia for generations to come. I had thought that the cause of nobility, justice and the greater good was worth more than all of us.
Now, I knew my former ideals to be nothing but lies. One life lost to the cause of peace was one life too many. I had sworn to do anything to save my country, but hadn’t asked myself what my country could do for me, and the people I loved, or even the world at large. I was no longer a patriot, but instead, an individual concerned with the wellbeing of all, not just the Arcanea. As such, I had promised myself that in the future, I would do whatever I could to save as many lives as possible, instead of destroying them in the name of our nation. When the next war came, as it inevitably would, I promised myself that I wouldn’t act as I did before. I would consider the consequences of each battle.
And I would not raise my sword again until I had no other choice.
We lingered in the garden for as long as we could, enjoying our lunch and savoring the day before Emma said, “We should go. The others are waiting for us.”
I nodded, and held out a hand to lift her up. We wandered through the gardens arm-in-arm, approaching the palace gates.
As we walked the cobblestone path, people bowed lowly, giving us the utmost respect as they uttered low compliments. Some people met my eyes, but everyone averted Emma’s gaze, too terrified to meet it.
“I can’t believe they still treat me like this,” Emma murmured as we entered the palace.
“You are nearly a goddess to them,” I responded. “Everyone saw your body, and knew you were dead. That you returned astonishes even your enemies. The entire kingdom reveres you.”
When we’d come back from the Great Hunting Grounds, the cathedral had been full of patrons ready to partake in the morning service. They and the high priestesses had walked upon an unusual scene, the remnants of the resurrection ceremony. People gasped as they’d watched Emma’s spirit return to her body and rise up from her casket, restored to life. She appeared like Milonna herself descended to Earth.
Arthur’s body had laid on the floor amongst the white rose petals, his spirit gone on to join Vara. The entire moment had been… beautiful.
And overwhelming. It was a miracle and a death all in one, for the entire country to observe. My joy had resulted in Emma’s grief, but you could not have life without loss. We’d all made our choices, for better and for worse. This is how it’d ended up.
“Well, I wish they wouldn’t,” Emma responded crossly. “My brother made the sacrifice, anyhow.”
I grasped her hand. “We all made sacrifices. You gave yourself up for your country, and Arthur gave himself up for you. None of it was easy, but we did it together.”
“Exactly. If only people could see that, and not think that I did it all on my own. I wouldn’t have made it without all of you.”
“They want a heroine,onawilke.Someone to worship and tell stories about.”
