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Once the vow is completed, the council departs. With extreme care, Quill scoops Vivvy up from the floor and leads us out of the underbelly of the Sanctum to the Shore of the Damned where vampires find their final rest.

He lays Vivvy gently on the sand as he, Carver, and Eivor dig a deep grave. I offer to help, but they refuse. While they work, I braid Viv’s hair the way she always preferred and tie the ends with a crimson ribbon I’d found in her pocket. Risna dunks a cloth in a bucket of salt water before carefully wiping the dried blood from Vivian’s leathery skin.

No one speaks as we work in tandem, and I’m grateful for it. Grateful for their silence and lack of fake platitudes or dishonest condolences. Vivian’s death isn’t something any of us will ever regret, and there’s no point in pretending it is.

She is—was—a menace.

Finished with the pit, Quill, Eivor, and Carver hop out. They’re silent as Risna and I wrap Vivvy in a shroud of silk and lace we retrieved from the castle when we collected the bucket and cloth. Like her braids, we tie the shroud closed with ribbon. Hidden beneath, she is so much smaller. So fragile.

Quill and I maneuver her into the grave.

Together, we bury her in the ashen sand. From death, beauty will bloom vibrant and everlasting and pure.

With every scoopful of sand, a weight lifts.

From my shoulders, from my heart, from my soul.

I am free.

Finally, truly, wholly, free of the past that threatened to haunt me.

And now, alongside my mate and my chosen family, I will live.

EPILOGUE

RORY

SIX MONTHS LATER

The sun dances across the ocean in sparkling bursts of white. A brilliant shade that mirrors the incandescent light of oncoming visions or freshly fallen snow or delicate gowns made for happier ceremonies.

Sand slips through my fingers the way time once did as I sit next to a graveyard of flowers on the Shore of the Damned.

There you are, tiny monster, Quill says from down the beach.

He strides toward me with his unbuttoned coat billowing in the breeze. It exposes the lean, muscular body beneath, clad in fine leather pants and a soft white top embellished with lace at the sleeves and collar. It’s a perfect match to my own gown, custom made by Cress at her new boutique in Aeviternal.

His arms wrap around me as he presses gentle kisses along my shoulder and up my neck before nipping my earlobe. I can’t help the squeal that slips from me as I turn and capture his mouth with mine. It’s become second nature, kissing him. I do it whenever I want, which, if I’m being honest, is all the time. He smiles against my lips because of course he’s reading my thoughts. I take his lower lip between my teeth and tug.

He tears away from me, laughing. “If you do that again, we’re going to be late.”

I capture his mouth once more and do it again for good measure.

“Are you ready for this?” he asks. His eyes are feverishly bright as he straightens the pearl crown atop my head—a gift from Nerissa.

I lace my fingers through his. “Beyond ready.”

Godrick’s chapel is decorated in hundreds of pastel flowers and lush greens. Petals line the floors alongside stacks of candles; boughs adorn the pews. It’s beautiful, whimsical, a poem given life.

“We were starting to think you got cold feet,” says Risna. She kisses both my cheeks in greeting before wrinkling her nose at Quill. “I wouldn’t blame you if you changed your mind, you know. Life bound to one of the Seven for all eternity?”

Eivor mock shudders. “The horror of it.”

Quill rolls his eyes as he shrugs off his coat. “I’m going to go make sure everything’s ready.”

I watch as the muscles beneath his top flex under his shirt. He is power personified, this mate of mine.

“Riven hasn’t shown up yet,” says Eivor quietly. “Fucking fae bastard. You shouldn’t have invited him. The prick has no intention of bridging the gap between them.”