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Riven’s entire demeanor shifts as he races toward me, scooping me into his arms.
I’m laughing as he carries me out of the clearing, tossing over his shoulder loud enough for the entire kingdom to hear, “Long live the king and queen!”
EPILOGUE
GWYN
THREE MONTHS LATER
Three months have passed since Riven and I broke his curse.
The lands are thriving, and so are we.
My coronation was one for the history books, and the entire kingdom poured out in support.
Avaline and Carver were there. Quill and Rory too.
Even Miriya and Daphne came to watch me be crowned, though I insisted they never call me anything but Gwyn and begged them to come back to visit whenever they’d like.
And just yesterday, we found out we’re going to be an aunt and uncle. Arkyn grinned as he delivered the news, I clapped my hands in delight, and Riven... well, he refused to admit he was as thrilled as I was, but the way he immediately started gathering the dust-ridden toys from his childhood into a box said otherwise. Now, there’s a bet among the four of us about whether or not Arkyn and Lettie’s child will inherit her blue hair.
I’m secretly rooting for it.
The forest hums around us, birds calling and sunlight spilling through the trees.
Riven’s presence behind me feels like home, steady and grounding. And in that peace, I feel the echo of Aislinn’s guidance too—the lessons she’s trusted me with, the hours spent nurturing the Fae Isles back to its former glory.
I sigh, content with life, and my mate’s arms tighten around me.
Even though he’s taught me how to properly ride a horse on my own, he insisted we recreate our journey to the Viretree in celebration of our three-month anniversary (yes, we’re those kind of lovesick creatures. Cherishing every milestone, no matter how small.), which is how we both ended up on Cinder’s back.
Not that I’m complaining.
I mean, I didn’t complain the first time either.
Like before, Riven’s body presses up against mine, and yet this time, everything has changed.
We’re no longer bound by bargain, but by love and choice and fate.
He is my mate.
My husband.
My stubborn fae bastard of a king.
The deeper we ride through Eleutheria, the more the Isles awaken just from our presence alone. Wind-tossed leaves flutter all around us, and pixies no bigger than my hand race us back to where Riven claims he first realized he wanted me—the selkies’ watering hole.
Every now and then, I can feel Riven’s lips on my shoulder, my neck.
Gentle just because kisses that I’ve grown addicted to.
The relaxing sound of rushing water alerts me that we’re close.
We draw to a stop, and Riven helps me off Cinder’s back. Once I’m steady, he takes my hand, running his fingers over the ring he had made for me. It’s a simple thing, crafted from gold and engraved with a rune symbolizing devotion.
A promise of eternity together.
Of safety without cages.
