“I am here today not just as your Doyen, but as a citizen of this realm,” she said. “As many of you know, just days ago the Kingpin known as Dante Ashwood was killed, as part of a joint effort between our forces and volunteers from buskers and Crafters across the realm.”
The audience stirred at the mention of Crafters.
Saxony’s people were supposed to be the bad guys, after all.
“Because of these noble efforts, we were able to end the war that threatened our peace and our freedom,” Schulze continued. “And with thanks to our allies, we were also able to develop a cure for Dante Ashwood’s mind-control elixir. This has already been made available across Creije and Yejlath, and will be distributed to the other cities in the realm within the coming days.”
Saxony had been the one to create more of the cure she had fashioned from her family’s blood, teaching other Crafters how to do the same and imbuing it with duplication magic so that it could spread more seamlessly across the realm. It was still a work in progress, but thanks to her, the magic factories where love elixirs and all manner of legal and overpriced magic were usually concocted were now able to produce and reproduce the elixir faster than ever.
She didn’t expect any personal thanks, but a little nod wouldn’t have gone amiss.
“Those infected with the Loj will be given clemency,” Schulze said. “They will be cured and given the chance at a second life, closely monitored by amityguards for a limited time. Those not marked with the Loj, who followed Dante Ashwood because they shared his vision, will be found, arrested, and will face trial. We do not take their crimes lightly.”
Schulze said the last part like she was still addressing an army, rather than a crowd of civilians and communicators. She looked like a warrior instead of a politician.
“Now I must talk to you about the continued alliance we plan to have with both the buskers and the Crafters, all of whom were essential in helping us to secure this victory,” she said.
At that point, Wesley moved forward, his shoulder brushing not so lightly against the Doyen’s as he leaned into the speaker.
“That’s where I come in,” he said, adjusting his tie.
With a tight jaw, Schulze stepped aside to give Wesley the full platform, which he looked all too pleased by.
“Dante Ashwood is dead and you won’t be surprised to know that I’m the one who killed him,” Wesley said.
A few of the crowd sucked in a breath, but most kept their mouths firmly shut.
Which was probably the smart course to take.
Only one spoke up—
“Will you be vying to take his place?” a woman asked. “You were the underboss of Creije, weren’t you?”
Saxony resisted the urge to let her magic rise up to the surface. After all Wesley had done, after saving the realms, they still thought he was the same as the Kingpin. That he was just another underboss on a power trip.
“Alleged underboss,” Wesley said. “And nobody is taking Ashwood’s place. The time of black magic dealing in Uskhanya is over, just like the time for fearing magic is over. All magic sold on the streets will be legal, with more charms available than before, and buskers trading within the law. And, it also must be said, Crafters who feared being hunted or used for magical profit will now be free to live their lives as anyone else might. They do not have to be afraid and they do not have to hide.”
Saxony swallowed.
Karam threaded their hands together.
A free world, where Saxony and her family—where all of her people—could have a real life, with no hiding and no secrets. They could leave the Uncharted Forest and explore what the rest of the realms had to offer, without being scared that leaving their homes would mean never being able to return.
“We will have a world where everyone is equal and magic can be dealt safely,” Wesley said. “Of course, there will be bans on dangerous charms, but as a whole we need to learn to respect magic instead of fear it. Just like we must learn to respect Crafters. It was only because of magic that we were able to stop Dante Ashwood.”
Schulze cleared her throat, like the truth of that made her more uncomfortable than anything.
“We need to unite,” Wesley said. “Civilians, amityguards, buskers, and Crafters. It’s the only way for peace.”
His eyes scanned the crowd, the look on his face similar to the one he wore as an underboss, except this time there was a new authority to it, not rooted in ego or the desire to be the best, but the need to keep as many people safe as he could.
To protect Creije as he had always done.
Saxony never thought that she’d feel proud of Wesley Thornton Walcott, but looking at him now, standing in front of a microphone as the realms watched on, a Doyen by his side, that was exactly what she felt.
He didn’t want to take over the magic trade; he wanted to make sure there wasn’t a trade that could harm their people. Just magic, some good, some not so good, but all of it available and none of it made to keep Crafters in shackles.
“This is the beginning of a new realm,” Wesley said. “And a fresh start for us all.”
He held out his hand for the Doyen to shake, a formality that was so desperately needed in these times.
Schulze looked down at Wesley’s hand, and with only the smallest of frowns did she clasp it in her own.
Saxony let out a long breath, and for once it wasn’t a sigh or a preparation for scary futures to come.
It was relief.
It was hope.
Doyen Schulze was willing to make a deal to give Crafters the chance at a normal life. Finally, more than fifty years after the War of Ages had ended, their realm and her people could begin to heal.
This was the future Saxony had always wanted. It was the reason she had come to Creije: to avenge her family by killing Ashwood, to free her people by changing the laws and attitudes toward magic, and to unite the people she loved.
She had done all of that now, and with her sister at her side and her brother onstage shaking hands with a Doyen, Saxony felt her heart lift.
This was everything she had ever dreamed of. And so finally she could stop dreaming and start living.
44
WESLEY
Saxony, Karam, and Zekia were seated on the grass by the riverbank, where the next train to Rishiya waited. Most of their army had congregated inside, except for those who wished to stay in Creije. Or those who planned on getting the first train they could out of Uskhanya entirely.
“Is Tavia here?” Wesley asked.
Saxony looked at him with a raised eyebrow, detangling her hand from Karam’s. “I’m sorry, is our company not good enough for the underboss of Creije?”
Wesley shrugged, his smile tipping upward.
“She is by the Crook,” Karam said. “Where else would a busker be?”
That sounded like Tavia.
Wesley sat down on the grass beside Zekia, resigned to the fact that his suit was ruined.
“How’s our Doyen?” Saxony asked.
“Busy,” Wesley said. “Who knew reshaping the world was so much work?”
It had been a week since Dante Ashwood had been killed. After they had addressed the realms from the Halls of Government, they had traveled back into Creije to begin reopening the capital city’s most notorious and inspiring landmarks. The museum, the library, and, of course, the bars would soon follow. The Crook would be the first of them to open its doors and wet its glasses with Cloverye for the nervous patrons, helping to ease everyone back into the routine of daily life.
But despite all that, it would be at least another few weeks until their armies would be able to properly scour Uskhanya and find the strays of Ashwood’s people. Not to mention that there were bound to be hundreds of innocents scattered around the realm, in need of saving and curing. Wesley couldn’t see himself getting a break anytime soon.
“Are you excited?” Zekia asked.
Wesley turned to her with a curious expression and lounged back onto
the palms of his hands. “About what?”
“Being in charge,” she said.
“I’m always in charge,” he said. “I’m just excited to be home.”
Saxony looked down at the grass. “I almost forgot that you’d be staying.”
Impossibly, Wesley had too.
He had been so busy helping to amass enough prisoners to fill the Halls of Government to bursting, and enough victims of the Loj to fill the Grand Infirmary and keep their healers occupied for the foreseeable future, that he had forgotten that he didn’t need to leave Creije again.
“I need to stay to get a proper drink,” Wesley said. “It’s a good thing that Ashwood didn’t destroy my bar.”
Karam couldn’t help but laugh, but Saxony didn’t mirror her smile in the slightest.
“You could come with us,” she said, in a voice soft enough to make Wesley shuffle. “The Rishiyat Kin would love to have you home.”
Home.
Only, Wesley was already home. Rishiya was his past, but Creije was his present and his future.
“I don’t think they need me around,” Wesley said. “Not with their new Liege taking the reins.”
Wesley nudged her with his shoulder.
“Zekia and I agree that it’s your destiny,” Wesley said. “Don’t we, kid?”
“Yep,” Zekia said. “I’m going to dream and relax and have Amja tell me stories.”
Saxony smiled, but Wesley could see he hadn’t given her the answer she wanted.
“Do you think the Kin will be mad when I go back?” Zekia asked.
She looked up at him with worried eyes, her chin nuzzled into his shoulder.
“What if they hate me now?”
“If you want advice on redemption, then you’re talking to the wrong sibling.” He ruffled her hair and Zekia pulled away from him to smooth it back out. “You’ve seen a thousand futures, kid. At least one of them had to have been on your side.”
Saxony let out a disbelieving laugh. “Look at you, the wise old man.”
Wesley frowned at the word old, but thought the wise part was enough of a compliment to let it slide.
“Just take care of her,” he said, pushing himself up from the grass.
He needed to find Tavia. It had been hours since he’d last seen her.
Saxony, Karam, and Zekia stood too, and there was an awkward moment where Wesley thought Karam might hug him, but instead she merely stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder.
“You fought well,” she said. “Even if I fought better.”
Wesley would take that goodbye.
He’d miss his favorite fighter. Despite everything, Karam and he had been in each other’s lives for years, and that meant he couldn’t think of anyone who he’d rather have accompany his sisters back to Rishiya. There wasn’t a person in the realms he trusted more to guard them. And to love them.
“I’ll see you around,” Wesley said to her. “Look after those two, okay?”
Karam gave him a rare smile.
“Of course,” she said. “I will go with them back to Rishiya and watch over them.”
That was good enough for Wesley. Knowing Karam would be watching over his family meant that he knew they would always be safe.
“You’ll be okay here?” Saxony asked.
“I’m always okay,” Wesley said.
Saxony said nothing in return, but she pulled him into a tight hug that threw Wesley for a loop. He was not a hugger, but he’d also never been a brother before, so he guessed things changed. He wrapped his arms around Saxony and felt the moment she sighed against his shoulder.
“See you soon, little brother,” she said, pulling away.
Wesley sucked in a breath. “Let’s stick with first names,” he said. “See you around, Saxony.”
She put her hand on his cheek and it was then that Wesley realized for the first time just how much taller she was than him. And how suddenly he was not only a big brother, but that he had a big sister, too.
For the first time, he had someone to look up to and rely on. Someone whose job it was to have his back.
“Stay safe, Wesley,” she said.
“Sounds boring.”
Saxony rolled her eyes. “Stay boring, then.”
Wesley grinned. “Never.”
45
TAVIA
The Crook still stood, and aside from a few scrapes and bruises to the old clock tower, it looked as beautiful as ever.
“You’ll miss the train,” Wesley said, half-joking. “I think the next one to Volo is coming soon.”
He strolled over to her, and though Tavia didn’t turn to see him, she felt the moment he was by her side. Wesley made the air around him charged, both with magic and something else that Tavia couldn’t explain, but that she could feel in her very bones.
“You’re going to need a reopening party for this place,” Tavia said. “If you’re finished saving the world, that is.”
“There’s a lot to take care of now that I’m a big hero,” Wesley said. “Including throwing some great parties.”
Tavia all but snorted. “A few free shots and some bottles of Cloverye and people will be lining up around the corner again. A place for the hopeless to lift their spirits.”
“I hope so,” Wesley said. “It’s strange to have this place so empty.”
She felt it too.
The streets weren’t bustling or electrified by the laughter and wonder of tourists, and the Crook wasn’t thumping with music and magic tricks. It felt like the heart of the city had wilted somewhat, but Tavia knew that it would flower again.
Creije had always been a place for the dreamers, where the lost were found and the lonely realized the world could be a comforting place. That in a city that didn’t close its eyes or turn off its lights, there really wasn’t a place to feel like you were on your own.
It wasn’t just a city, it was a family.
A family of wanderers looking to find their next adventure.
There was no way that Creije wouldn’t return to its former glory, especially with Tavia and Wesley there to fight for it.
“So,” Wesley said. “Volo. When are we going?”
We.
Tavia hadn’t known that such a small word could feel so big. So wonderful.
“Volo was always the plan,” she said.
She couldn’t help but enjoy the way Wesley sighed at the words. The last thing he wanted to do was leave Creije, but it had been Tavia’s wish, for too many years to remember. She had spent endless nights dreaming of the day she’d see the paper lanterns during the celebration of the Lonely Goddess’s sacrifice. She wished for the chance to walk down the streets her mother had as a child and find a home there, and perhaps a family, too. That was all she had ever wanted: a place to belong with people she loved and who would love her back without agenda or motive.
What a shame it had taken her so many years to realize that she didn’t need to travel across the realms to find something she already had.
Everything Tavia needed and everything she wanted was right here in Uskhanya.
In Creije.
“But I think the trip will have to wait,” she said.
“The trip,” Wesley repeated.
He cleared his throat and she could feel the nerves radiating off of him.
Wesley was never nervous.
At least, he never showed that he was.
This new vulnerability, or inability to pull his facade properly over his face, was rather endearing.
“Wasn’t it supposed to be the final destination where you laid down your roots?” he asked. “I was readying for a life of commuting between realms. Long-distance delg bats or something.”
“You want me to leave all this?” Tavia spread her arms wide. “Not a chance. My family in Volo can wait.”
She turned to face him.
His suit didn’t quite fit right. Borrowed, probably, since his stash in Creije had been destroyed and the tailors weren’t yet open again
. There was a scuff mark on the tie that was decidedly un-Wesley, but underneath it all were the tattoos and the scars. The calloused skin and the eyes that bored into her soul, even on the days where she tried to convince herself that she hated him.
Truth be told, Tavia had never once hated Wesley.
Truth be told, she could not remember a time when she didn’t love him.
“It’s the family that I have right here that needs me,” she said.
Wesley raised an eyebrow. “What about traveling the realms?”
Tavia smiled. “There will be plenty of time to do that after we help rebuild them.”
She took Wesley’s hand in hers. Skin against skin. Scars against scars. They had grown up together and though there were many years behind them, she knew there were so many more in front of them now.
She looked at their hands, so precariously entwined.
Tavia didn’t have the words to tell Wesley what she felt for him in that moment, and so she simply kissed him instead. Soft, brief, his lips warm against hers and their hands never once breaking apart.
She pulled slowly away from him, savoring each breath.
“One day I’ll explore Volo and anywhere else my heart takes me,” she said. “But I won’t be away from home for too long.”
They had so many memories to come and so much magic left to craft. They would rebuild their city—their home—and cast charms into the air and tricks onto the streets, reveling in the wonder that it brought.
They would light up the realms together, one adventure at a time.
Tavia pressed her forehead to Wesley’s. “Can’t have you getting into trouble while I’m gone.”
She felt him laugh against her. “People keep saying that,” Wesley said. “But trouble is fun.”
“I know.”
Tavia pulled away so she could see the full glory of his smile.
“That’s why I’m staying,” she said. “You can’t have all the fun without me.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
You’ve reached the end! Now this is the part where you get to read about all the people I love (or the ones that bribed me into putting their names in here).
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