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“When was I going to tell you?”

She flopped back in a pout.

“Ana.”

“So that’s a yes?” she asked, staring ahead with her lips curling into a sulk.

“Would you look at me?”

Her feigned sourness dissolved, and a slow smile replaced it as she turned to face him.

The door opened and Arkhady Wynter stepped through, followed by Grigor, Addy, and a slew of others.

“Yes,” Tyreste whispered, sneaking in one last kiss before breaking away to let others have their turn.

Epilogue

The air was still. Almosttoostill, considering the soft tufts of snow falling like ash and the giant flames turning black at the tips as they dwindled to smoke. Icebolt loomed large in the backdrop, unobscured by fog and clouds, though Midnight Crest, as always, remained invisible to those on the ground. Thanks to Ana, it would be invisible from the sky as well.

Dozens had come from across the village to watch the memorial. Some huddled at the perimeter, whispering in wonder at the forty or so Ravenwoods gathered. No one had ever seen so many in one place, and certainly not in their human forms.

Others drew closer, folding themselves into the funerary customs.

Ana clasped her hand in Tyreste’s as they watched High Priestess Elyria, one by one, offer the hearts of her people to the flames. The other Ravenwoods—the ones who had come, who had risked disgust from the ones who had stayed—hummed what seemed more story than song, the verses climbing higher and deeper with each offering. They placed the hearts in the flames in the order they’d died. When Elyria was handed Varradyn’s, Ana wiped her face on Tyreste’s shoulder, but only briefly. She owed it to Varradyn and his people to face the flames and see him off to the gods of the Ravenwoods.

“Never again,” Elyria sang, her voice carrying across the motionless crowd. “That is the foundation of the new armistice we create here, today, with men we once trusted. Trust is hard won, easily lost, and nearly impossible to regain. Many of you have come to me, prostrate with concern and fear, begging me not to sign this new pact. But it is nottrustguiding us today, just as it was nottrustguiding us before. Fear bade us sign an agreement the first time, but we go into this new era with both eyes open and the magic of the demon himself fortifying our walls. We go in knowing that it is no piece of paper that will keep us safe, nor the blood we stamp upon it, but the bravery of a young woman who risked everything to protect our future, when it would have been so much simpler for her to turn away.” Elyria held out her hand and nodded at Ana.

“Go.” Tyreste pecked a kiss on Ana’s temple and nudged her.

“It should be my father,” Ana whispered from the side of her mouth. She searched the crowd for signs of his movement, her eyes falling upon the Penhallows, Grigor, and others from Fanghelm before she found Arkhady. But he, too, was watching her. Waiting.

Ana moved along the edge of the fire to the other side. She stopped in front of Elyria and did something even she didn’t expect; she bowed low.

Gasps and startled whispers sounded behind her. She couldn’t see whether they were Ravenwood, men, or both. It didn’t matter. A lack of respect had been at the heart of the prior agreement, and Ana would begin this one with the appropriate reverence.

“High Priestess,” Ana said when she rose.

A smile softened Elyria’s tight expression.

“The people of Witchwood Cross mourn with you. But those are words, and only through binding action can you and your people find peace. My ward will keep any with Meduwyn blood from flying your skies. The agreement we sign here today will keep your people safe on the ground as well.”

Someone passed a heavy vellum from behind. She accepted it, unrolling it. “The words are simple because the agreement is simple. The punishment for fatally interfering with any of the Ravenwoods is death, the manner of which will be determined by the reigning high priestess. Likewise, Ravenwoods hold themselves to the same standard of peace, and any retaliation, now or in the future, renders them subject to the laws of the stewardship of Witchwood Cross. These laws are not necessary, however; they are mere words on paper. They are nothing when measured against the power of an agreement sealed in the blood of both races, binding all words and intentions through a joined magic that supersedes any law of any peoples.”

Ana handed the vellum to the messenger and accepted a dagger in return. She closed her eyes, inhaled a steadying breath, and dragged the blade across her palm. The messenger rushed in to catch it on the page while Ana passed the bloody dagger to the high priestess.

Elyria’s cut was longer and deeper, and as her blood spilled upon the page, mingling with Ana’s, she led her people in a humming chant.

Arkhady stepped in beside Ana. He tilted his head down to nudge hers and smiled in approval. “Never again!” he cried and pumped his fist. He did it again, and the villagers slowly joined in as well.

“Never again!” they shouted, matching his passion and fervor as he marched around the circle of flames, beating his chest, his pitch and enthusiasm rising with every battle cry. “Never again!”

Ana made her way back to Tyreste, taking her time so she could survey the gathered. She prayed there were years left before the stewardship was hers, but her people wouldknowher before that happened. Know her heart, her convictions... heart and convictions she would see passed to her own children, and theirs, so it was not only magic protecting the Ravenwoods but honor.

She slowed near the Penhallows, accepting their hugs and kisses with gladness. When she reached Tyreste, she joined his fevered “never again!” chanting, folding herself in under the protection of his strong arms.

“Niko will be here soon. They’re bringing him straight to the tavern,” Ludya said, appearing from behind. “When you’re ready, Anastazja, I’ll take you back to Fanghelm for preparations.”

“Just a little while longer,” Ana said, locking smiles with Elyria across the flames. “I want to remember this, so when I tell my descendants about the day, there won’t be a single detail amiss.”

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