"Fired," Arthur said with deep satisfaction, ticking a heavy black box on his clipboard. "Not banished. Not killed. Fired. The most humiliating defeat of all."
Amelia walked up to Arthur. She looked at him—really looked at him, past the tweed and the glasses and the anxiety.
"You did that," she said. "The paperwork. The bylaws. You beat him with bureaucracy."
"We beat him," Arthur corrected, blushing slightly. "I just... filed the forms. And read the handbook."
Amelia smiled. It wasn't her usual sharp, cruel smile. It was real. It reached her eyes.
"So," she said, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Now that the war is over... are you free for dinner? A real dinner. Not a picnic in a bunker. Not MREs."
Arthur blinked. He looked like he had been hit by a stun spell. "Are you... asking me out, Miss Vance?"
"I'm telling you to take me to an Italian restaurant," she corrected, regaining some of her imperious edge. "I want pasta. And wine. And a tablecloth. Don't make me repeat myself."
"Yes, ma'am," Arthur grinned. It was a dazzling, goofy grin.
I watched them walk away, Amelia taking his arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I looked around the Quad.
Ivy was tackling Jax into a pile of leaves. Rook was teaching Stone how to tap dance (badly). The Board of Governors was getting back into their cars, looking eager to leave the glitter-zone.
"So," Kai said, walking up and wrapping an arm around my waist. He smelled like crushed grass and victory. "What now?"
"Now?"
I looked at the Triad. My mates. My pack.
Rhett, the Wolf who learned to control his rage.
Kai, the Elemental who learned to root down.
Lucien, who learned to step into the light.
And me. Lina. The girl who used to be afraid of her own sparks.
"Now," I said, leaning my head on Rhett's shoulder. "I think we need a vacation."
Rhett groaned. "Please. Somewhere with no wifi. No deans. And absolutely no glitter."
"Done," Lucien promised. "I know an island. Private. Shielded. Boring."
"Boring sounds perfect," I said.
The war was over. The semester was saved.
And we had survived.
27
The war was over, but the glitter remained.
It was, as Rhett put it, a "tactical disaster of fabulous proportions."
"It's everywhere," the wolf grumbled, sweeping a pile of neon pink dust out of the penthouse living room with a broom that looked comically small in his hands. "I found it in the toaster. I found it in my running shoes. I found it in myears. I think I breathed it in."
"Sparkle lung," Kai diagnosed from the couch.
