“It would seem,” Zys said, gesturing for Lena to go to it first, “you have a visitor.”
Wyverns were a bit like dragons, which were, in a way, a part of him. It was not on accident the wyvern had taken a liking to her. It was only fate.
He watched her stumble to the forest, heard her gasp when she saw the creature. Zys was not the only one watching, rapt. Lena had them all, and with them, she would know true happiness again, he swore it. It might have been ages, eons since he had felt these human feelings, but they were slowly coming to him.
A god of death, learning to love. Seemed a bit outlandish, did it not? A bit like a fairytale, though Lena’s story wasn’t the sort mothers should tell their children before bed.
Together they would rule this kingdom. He would age them with his magic, only to the onlookers, and once she was done with it, whatever she wished to do or wherever she desired to go, Zys would go with her. As would Vale, Bastian, and Tamlen. This was not the end of their story together.
It was the beginning.
Epilogue
Lena was nervous, for some strange reason. She really shouldn’t be, considering everything she’d gone through to get here. Today, by comparison, shouldn’t seem like such a gargantuan day. But it was, and because of it, her stomach was in knots.
She stood, her arms and hands bare, her blue hair up with a little tiara pinned to it, staring at herself in the mirror. Nothing wrapped around her neck; she would never put on another necklace for as long as she lived, for it would only serve as a reminder of that blasted collar, of the chains Cailan had tried to put her in. Her body wore a brilliant flowing gown, all ivory and white, sparkles sewn into the bodice, its tresses sheer.
If there was ever a true princess gown, it was this one. She could hardly walk in it—no heels, of course. She’d made sure the tailor had known that during their first fitting.
Lena ran her hands over the front of the bodice, down her stomach. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to dance in this gown after the ceremony, but she’d figure it out. Dancing had never been on the forefront of her mind before. And, luckily, she wasn’t showing yet, so none of the invited nobles would think of her a harlot, though they would probably still think of her as a dirty mage.
It would take years, decades, maybe even multiple lifetimes for Rivaini to overcome its prejudice against mages. Lena would see it through for a while, though she swore to Zys she would not be an indefinite ruler of Rivaini. The College’s gates had gone up the moment she and Zys had returned to the castle after ridding the world of Cailan, and it was back to business as usual. She’d sent Nilsan back after thanking her for serving Cailan, and she’d had Kyler’s name inscribed in the College’s courtyard, where the names of the fallen, those who had lost their lives in defense of it, were etched in the stone floor.
A few days into their Cailan-free lives, scouts had reported Gregain’s body had been found. Lena hadn’t wanted to see it, so she had it burned. Kyler’s body was buried in the cemeteries just outside the city’s walls.
It had felt good to rid herself of such thoughts, to no longer think of Gregain and Kyler. Lena did, however, still visit the Noresh text, though it was safely locked away in the castle’s deepest vaults. Its secrets were too powerful to be destroyed, but too dark to be let loose. She would not let anyone else use it.
Suddenly she was no longer alone in her dressing room. A man stood behind her, bending his neck to hers, his metal armor creaking. He wore the castle’s golden armor, a cloak pinned to the shoulder pads that revealed his rank as general. His blonde hair was trimmed neatly, his blue eyes lively as he placed a gentle kiss on the crook of her neck and shoulder.
“You look beautiful,” Vale said, smiling wider as she turned to face him. His gaze ate her up, and she felt herself growing warm.
How many times had she been with her men, and yet they still brought out her inner wildness? It was something Lena would never change.
When all Lena did was sigh, Vale chuckled. “You’ll be hearing it a lot today, I think.” He leaned down, giving her a fast peck on the lips. “Come. Tamlen wishes to see you before the ceremony.” He extended his arm, and she graciously accepted. After hooking her arm through his, he led her out of the dressing room and into the hall.
Tamlen stood tall, looking even more handsome than usual in the etched armor. The scar lining the left side of his face seemed less severe, his dark eyes glimmering. His hair had been combed back—something he’d been against until Vale finally got him to start doing it. Now he never left his bedchambers with unruly black locks.
The castle guard commander. With the whole Grey Revolt behind him, Tamlen had experience leading men and rallying morale. Lena prayed each night she would never have to see him off to battle. So far, Sumer had been quiet. Almost too quiet, but that worry was neither here nor there.
Today was meant to be a happy day.
Lena drew away from Vale as she moved closer to Tamlen. No one else was in the hall, so she gave him a sultry smile and a kiss that put Vale’s chaste one to shame. When their lips parted, Tamlen muttered, “You look amazing.”
She shot a look at Vale, who only smiled. “And you both are very handsome in your armor. Now we’ve got that out of the way, Vale said you wanted to see me?” Lena wasn’t sure what Tamlen wanted, but now was probably not the time for a quickie, seeing as how she’d been due in the great hall twenty minutes ago.
She didn’t have cold feet exactly, it was just…all those nobles. All those eyes, watching as she swore herself to a man they thought was Cailan for all eternity. Didn’t seem right. Lena wanted everyone to know she didn’t love Cailan, that she loved Zys, Vale, Tamlen and Bastian, but those were wishful thoughts that wouldn’t work. Not here, not today. For now, she would have to grin and bear the thought everyone believed Zys was Cailan.
“Although I wish I could take you away and tear that dress off you, it’s not mine to tear,” Tamlen said. He’d been getting better with the whole jealousy thing, too. It also helped that while Lena was occupied by either Bastian or Zys, he and Vale kept themselves busy. “I’m afraid it’s not me who wanted to see you. I just wanted to see the look on your face when—” He stopped, turning his head as someone turned down the hall, heading straight for them.
Lena followed his gaze, about to get annoyed at whatever guard had thought to fetch her to start the ceremony—by the gods, she’d come whenever she was ready to fucking come—but it wasn’t a guard. He couldn’t have been mistaken for one with the suit of metal he wore.
Shimmering, shining. Golden and multicolored, with lions growling on each of the shoulder plates. A suit of armor far more intricate, far more detailed than any armor made in Rivaini. The very opposite of crude. The man wore the chevalier armor proudly, and he could not stop the dimpled smile from spreading on his face.
“Bastian,” Lena said, nearly breathless.
“I thought you were to wait around the corner to surprise her,” Tamlen growled out, trying to hide his annoyance and failing.
Bastian turned his head to Tamlen, though his hazel stare never once left Lena. “I simply could not wait,” he said, his Sumerian accent as fluid and easy as ever. His dimpled chin turned to her as he added, “What do you think? I had it polished for today.”
Lena wanted to cry, but if she did, it would ruin her makeup and she’d never hear the end of the mockery from all of the guys. “How did you…where did you…” It seemed she was incapable of finishing a single sentence, she was so awe-struck.
“I found my old suit in the treasury. I thought they’d melted it down for the Sumerstone.” Bastian grinned, reaching a gloved hand to her face, cupping her cheek gently. “I could not let you be the only one dressing up today.”
“You look fantastic,” she said after pressing her lips against his, hard and fast.
“And you look—”
Lena cut in, “I know, I know. Beautiful, pretty, amazing. Insert any other word you can think of.�
�� When all three guys stared at her with quizzical expressions, she added, “Sorry. I’m just nervous.”
Bastian nodded along as if he understood, Vale looked contemplative, as if he were trying to think about why she’d be so nervous, but it was Tamlen who asked, not bothering to hide his puzzlement, “After everything you’ve done, everything we’ve done, you’re nervous for this?” He meant the necromancy, the sketchy use of blood magic, and of course all their sexual escapades.
But she was a woman. Of course she was nervous for this. Anyone else would be too, if they were in her position.
Her look must’ve been amusing, for Vale laughed. “Come. Let us bring you to him before you decide to run away.” He was joking, mostly. Lena, however, thought it seemed a viable solution.
Her men would not let her run. They formed a protective, manly barrier around her, negating any attempts she made to dash away, bringing her shortly to the great hall, where a royal red carpet was unrolled, leading down the long room and ending just before the two steps the throne sat on, where Zys stood in a new black suit, his hands held before him, a clergyman to his left. Rows and rows of nobles stood, lining each side of the carpet, all wearing their best finery.
No one, of course, looked as good as Zys.
He stood tall, the tallest in the room, especially tall since he was atop the steps. Did Lena mention he was tall? Gods, was it hot in here, or was it just her? He was the most handsome man of all, because he wasn’t a man at all. He was a god, and as she straightened her back, glancing at the others before taking her first step toward him, she realized she was one, too.
Goddess, actually.
He’d told her she’d never age, though she’d be able to give birth. She’d have power over magic she never thought was possible, dominion over death and blood and disease. None of it really mattered, though. All she needed was Zys.
And the others, too, but this day was not about Vale, Bastian, or Tamlen.
Lena was slow to move down the long carpet, perhaps not as confidently as she should, wondering if she should’ve had a bouquet or something, because her hands felt awfully useless and awkward…
And then she met Zys’s silver eyes, saw the magical crown circling his head, a crown no one else could see, and her thoughts vanished. She could do this.
She ignored the curious and annoyed stares the nobles gave her, overlooked their whisperings as she reached Zys’s side. Lena smiled at him, and he met her grin with one of his own. He was getting better at it, she’d admit. It looked natural. A warm, fluttering feeling rose within her, and she felt the godly magic sweep over her. The crown that matched his encircled her head, and fortunately for them, it was something no one else could see.
The clergyman began the ceremony. Not even a minute had passed before a loud purring erupted behind the thrones, so loud and thrumming the clergy had to pause, nervously glancing at the creature who laid behind it. A scaled, white head was practically all anyone could see as the wyvern leaned around the thrones, the rest of its body flat against the stone floor. Its silver eyes nearly matched Zys’s; perhaps that’s why Lena loved it so much. It reminded her of her god of death.
Plus, it was always good to remind any visiting nobles or messengers from other kingdoms they had tamed the fabled white wyvern, a vicious beast through and through. Complete hogwash in terms of the creature’s dangerousness, for its nature seemed to be that of a giant, loveable and too curious feline.
Still. It’s feathered head and scaled length were impressive enough to scare off most nobles. Even their subjects hadn’t grown used to the creature yet.
Lena shot the wyvern a look, and it lowered the volume of its purr, almost apologetic. When she met eyes with the clergyman again, she whispered, “Sorry about that. Continue.”
With a hesitant voice, trembling only slightly, the clergyman carried on.
They knelt when they were asked, they prayed a prayer Zys and Lena had to practice a hundred times to learn, and finally, at the end, their hands grasped each other. Their left hands held onto each other’s, his above hers, and then their right, connecting just beneath. The clergyman was unhurried in tying a ribbon around their entwined hands, their wrists, binding them together in the eyes of Enu.
Before the clergyman said it, Zys had leaned down to her, pressing his lips on hers. A wave of pleasure swept over her, tingling her in all the right places, and as he pulled back, Lena gave him a mock glare. He knew well enough not to do it in public.
The clergyman shook off any scoldings as he proclaimed them loudly the King and the Queen. As he unwound their wrists, Zys and Lena turned to face the crowd. They’d move to the ballroom and dance, but it was not where Lena’s mind was.
With her anxiety over the wedding was gone, mostly because the wedding itself was done, Lena scanned the crowd. She didn’t spot who she was looking for, and though she was sad, she would not let this person’s absence ruin her wedding.
Time passed in a blur. There was much laughing, much more dancing. Out of her partners, Zys was the most elegant. It didn’t surprise her, for he was elegance by its very definition. Never unruffled, unless she was doing a certain thing to him in bed, and never revealing any traces of anger.
What did surprise her was who was the worst. Bastian seemed to have two left feet, even after he parted the ballroom to change into clothes that would allow more movement. The ex-chevalier did nothing but step on her toes and tear the bottom of her gown, not that Lena minded. She couldn’t stop laughing at him, which reddened Bastian’s cheeks.
Tamlen and Vale were both decent enough dancers, though it was clear neither of them had ever stepped foot in tune with an orchestra—yes, a huge, ridiculously expensive band from the bard’s school in Sumer, because this was a royal affair and every guest must be wowed. Bastian’s words, not hers.
Bastian, due to his familiarity with both the Rivaini crown and Sumer’s Empress had become the new seneschal. He was a much better seneschal than he was a dancer.
Nobles ducked and dodged a rambunctious wyvern, the creature moving along to the tune and sticking its nose where it most definitely did not belong—the dessert tables, where finger foods were served to anyone who had enough dancing. Lena had to give it a stern look when it opened its mouth, revealing rows of sharp teeth, right above the trays of pre-cut cake. When its metallic, silver stare locked with hers, it was slow to close its mouth, its feathered neck humming as if to proclaim its innocence.
Well, as long as it refrained from eating any of the nobles, Lena supposed it was alright. This was a celebration after all, the party of all parties. Everyone should have a good time, including her new, rare, magical pet.
As she danced with her new husband, she shrugged. The wyvern knew exactly what she meant, and quickly devoured all the cake on the table, even plucking a few plates out of nearby nobles’ hands, swallowing the cake without chewing it.
Sweat lined her hair and her chest, but still, the music wore on. Lena lost count of how many dances she shared with her men, along with any nobleman who asked. It was in the middle of one particular dance with Zys when he twirled them out of the dancefloor and to the corner of the room, where archways to one of the castle’s many balconies sat. The moon hung low in the sky, silver light shining through the window panes.
“Why’d we stop?” Lena asked, breathless. She was tired, but she could keep going. It was kind of fun.
“Someone’s here to see you,” he said.
It’d been so long, too terribly long, Lena nearly didn’t recognize the woman who’d stepped inside from the balcony. With her brown hair pulled back into a braid, and a fancy royal blue fur-lined cloak, she looked like anything but the woman Lena knew she was. She was clean, well-fed, and most of all, safe.
Ingrid.
Lena lost herself; she barely glanced at Zys’s smiling face. She sprinted toward her friend, tossing her arms around her, hugging her as tightly as her large gown would allow. She laughed, crying tears of joy, of pu
re happiness. After all that time and no sign of her, she’d started to believe the worst. That Ingrid was dead, and she’d never see her best friend again.
“So, I run off, and the first thing you do is get married?” Ingrid huffed into the hug, faking annoyance. “I see how it is. I never knew how easily replaceable I was. I’m hurt.”
“Where have you been?” Lena whispered, pulling back, studying her friend. Ingrid’s eyes were greener, a blush on her cheeks; she looked healthy, of all things. Happy. “I’ve missed you terribly.” Of course, she would ignore the good-natured jab; Ingrid had always been good at making those. Good to see it hadn’t changed.
The question remained: where in all of Rivaini had her best friend been? Oh, the nights they could’ve stayed up talking, trading stories. Lena was sure she had more on that front than her friend, for once.
“I miss you, too,” Ingrid said, grinning. “And sorry I couldn’t make it in person. Travel between kingdoms is dangerous these days.”
“What…” Lena’s eyes widened, and she suddenly recalled what her friend was oh-so good at. “You’re using a projection potion? Across kingdoms? Where in the world are you?”
All Ingrid did was laugh and say, “Lena, have I got a story for you.”
As Lena sat there and listened to her friend begin her tale, she knew this was it. This was her life. Vale, Bastian, Tamlen and now Zys—the crown, the responsibility, the disdain of the non-mage citizens.
Everything good in her life, everything not so good—nothing bothered her. Her dark past, the blackfire, her parents’ abuse, her accidental and then not-so-accidental necromancy use…it was her life, her memories. Her future, her loves. She wasn’t unlucky, not unfortunate. Quite the opposite, truly.
This was her life, stones and prickles and all, and Lena would never trade it for the world.
Gods and Trickery: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Unfortunate Magic Book 3) Page 19