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“We sent inquiries to Sarnala towns across the border, Your Majesty,” the villager continued. “But they are just as confused about these beasts as we are.”
Why would a group of werewolves arrive from the human world?
The only werewolf I knew in my old world was Lero.
“You said you’ve been able to communicate with some of the beasts who don’t shift. Did you learn their names?” I asked.
“We’ve learned only one name so far. Nerkan.”
Breath caught in my throat. Nerkan was one of Madame’s bracks, not a werewolf. I turned to Kyllen, then back to the villager.
“It couldn’t be…”
As hard as I’d tried to escape my past, it caught up with me in one sweeping wave of darkness.
There had always been reports of bracks sightings here and there. Since timelines crossed and looped when moving from one world to the other, the bracks had come to Nerifir for supplies for Madame’s menagerie at all times throughout the history of Nerifir. The one thing they had been sourcing in Lorsan the most had been our lily honey that Madame liked in her tea.
“Are you sure Nerkan was a werewolf, not a brack?” I asked the villager.
“Yes, Your Majesty. He had fur and a tail. He looked nothing like a brack.”
Weird. Of course, there could be more than one Nerkan between the two worlds, but the coincidence was just too unsettling.
“Where is he now? Do you know?”
The man twisted the bundle in his hands. “We don’t know, Your Majesty. He ran away toward Sarnala, and we haven’t heard from him since.”
I hoped it was a good thing.
“What are your concerns?” Kyllen stepped in. “Are you worried the beast will attack your village?”
“He might, though that’s not why I’m here.” The man hurriedly unwrapped the bundle in his hands, then thrust a silver-colored plaque my way. “I should’ve mentioned this first.”
Kyllen quickly stretched his arm in a protective gesture between the man and me.
The villager turned the plaque in his hands, visibly hesitating. “It has your name on it, Queen Amira, but no one can read the rest.”
Kyllen took the silver object from the villager and inspected it closely. Satisfied it carried no harm, he passed it to me.
“Is it in English?” he asked.
Once we’d crossed back to Nerifir, Kyllen had lost his ability to read or speak English. I, however, had gained the ability to speak the fae language in addition to English, just like he used to be able to speak both, back in my world.
I took the plaque from him.
“Amira” was engraved in large letters at the top, just over the picture of a cupcake. All horizontal lines of the letters were straight, typical for writing in Sarnala. In Lorsan, most of them would’ve been wavy. Both styles, however, were similar enough for the people of both kingdoms to read.
The rest of the writing was in the language that did not come from Nerifir.
“You’re right, my love. It’s English…” I skimmed the text all the way to the signature below.
“Radax.”
My knees gave in, and I stumbled back to my chair. Emotion gripped my throat as I re-read the writing, taking in every word. I couldn’t say a thing, reading silently.
“What does it say, sweet pea?” Kyllen crouched at my side, holding onto the armrest of my chair.
I swallowed the lump in my throat before drawing a long breath in.
“It’s from Radax.”
“From me?” My son poked his head from around his dad’s arm.
“No, my sweet boy,” I smiled through the shimmering film of tears obscuring my vision. “It’s from the man whose name you have. The one who saved my life and raised me. Who had been my only family growing up. And whom I left behind…”
The man I had shot, leaving him bleeding on the floor of the truck trailer. Not knowing anything about his fate had been like a needle buried in my chest all this time.
Kyllen took my free hand and squeezed it gently. “What did he write?”
I took a few more deep breaths before feeling strong enough to continue.
“Ghata is gone. They defeated her. Her bracks are free, including Radax.” I turned to meet his eyes. “She is dead, Kyllen. She won’t torture anyone ever again.”
His chest rose with a heavy breath. His shoulders straightened as if a weight had dropped from them. I felt so much lighter at heart, too.
I placed the plaque into my lap and traced the outline of the cupcake engraved on it.
“He sends me a picture of the cupcake for all the birthdays of mine he has missed and for all those he will be missing.” I swallowed hard again. Somewhere out there in another world, in the timeline that twisted, curved, and looped compared to ours, Radax was living a happy life, the life he had earned. “He is free. At last. And he met someone, a human woman. They’re in love.”
Tears overflowed, rolling down my cheeks.
Kyllen took my face in his hands, wiping my tears with his thumbs. “Looks like he got his Happily Ever After.”
“He did.” I sniffled. “And he so, so deserved it.” I wiped my eyes with the end of my shawl. “These are happy tears, my darling. Very happy tears.”
He kissed my face, and I buried it in his chest. His warm, familiar scent felt more comforting than ever.
“Do you want to write him back? To let him know you have your own Happily Ever After, too.” He arched a brow ridge dramatically. “You do have it, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do,” I smiled through tears. “You are my Prince Charming.”
“King,” he corrected, lifting a finger for emphasis. “Not just a prince, my sweet pea. Though, admittedly, I am a charming one.”
And just like that, my tears dried up. I laughed, shaking my head. He grinned, happy that he’d managed to cheer me up.
“How would I write to Radax, though?” I asked. A regular correspondence wasn’t possible between the worlds.
