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Bonus Epilogue

Bonus Epilogue

The sun beat down overhead, hot and oppressive. Yet I welcomed, relished the burn. In the years since the war ended, traveling south to Stryi had been a constant in the back of my mind. Yet until a few months ago, Assyria and I had spent every waking moment ensuring the stability of the new regime.

I glanced sidelong at where she rode beside me, posture strong but tense. “Are you ready for this?” I asked her, gauging the way her lips flattened as she stared toward the village where she’d spent the majority of her life.

“I am,” she replied, a steadiness in her tone that our bond immediately betrayed.

I angled my horse closer to Blaeze—the chestnut mount she’d ridden away from here all those years ago. It had been slow going with his advancing age as we made our way south, but she insisted he needed to retire on the grassy plains that covered this part of the Demon Realm.

And I couldn’t deny my mate anything she wanted.

I was a male obsessed. For so long, my singular focus had been the war. And now that I no longer had to spend my days and nights strategizing, Assyria had become my every thought, my every breath.

Every beat of my heart was for her.

She had been, and always would be, mine.

Which was why as we rounded the final bend into Stryi, my fingers tightened over the reins. Because I was moments away from seeing the house where Vagach had abused what was never his.

I’d ridden all this way with a singular purpose: to find his corpse and use my power to make him fight just so I could slake my rage on his body.

It was such a shame that he wasn’t alive so I could make him suffer. But his spirit would be here, tied to this world, forevermore.

And that had to be punishment enough, for there was nothing else I could do.

Wild, thorny, overgrown bushes hid most of a sprawling manor home. Ivy climbed one side. Yet no more of the house was visible.

Assyria and I turned, riding into the heart of Stryi. We’d have to trek through the square to find the lane that led to the front gate of the estate.

Neither of us donned our helmets before mounting this morning, for we wanted this trip to be a surreptitious one. That didn’t stop a handful of villagers from spotting us and calling out our honorifics.

“Halálhívó!”

“Szélhámos!”

Assyria, to my surprise, lifted a hand and waved. Word of our arrival spread quickly, and by the time we reached the front gate, a crowd had gathered in the square.

“Kormánzó Vaxen,” I greeted the male Xannirin had tasked with running this vidék after we leaned of Vagach’s demise.

“Halálhívó,” he greeted, sweeping into a deep bow. Beside him, his wife curtseyed. Then they addressed my mate. “Szélhámos. We are honored to host you in Stryi. This is my wife, Kormánza Dara.”

“May your thread hold strong,” Assyria and I said.

“May your gifts never fade,” she replied, beaming. “Please, come in. We’ll have someone take your horses to the stables.”

We slid from our mounts, and a young male and female slipped out of the shadows to take the reins. They closed the gate behind us, shutting out the rest of the town. But after all the propaganda Kiira had spread about the two of us, I would have been a fucking fool to believe that would make them dissipate like smoke in the wind.

No, we were the fire. And we attracted attention everywhere we went.

Assyria’s steps were measured, but I took her hand in mine anyway, giving it a squeeze.

“Whatever you need, I am here, mate.”

“I know.”

The entry was grander than I had anticipated, with high ceilings and windows that let in the midday sun. Upon a large, circular table, a bouquet of roses waited.

Assyria rushed forward, a smile blooming on her face. “Did you revive these?”

Delle nodded, reaching out to stroke the vibrant blue petals of one. “It took much work, I’m afraid. I could really use your expertise on a few of the more finicky bushes. One of the Genaeve is failing…”

Vaxen jerked his head, and I followed him deeper into the manor while the females chatted about their flowers. Not like I didn’t have interest in them. No, I felt Assyria’s tension ebbing with the distraction, and I wanted it to continue.

She only had bad memories of this place.

“How were your travels?” Vaxen asked.

“Uneventful,” I told him. We entered his study—a wood paneled room with leather furniture, fragrant from a recent polish.

“Scale?” he asked me, going to a cabinet and pulling a glass decanter out.

“Aye,” I said, unbuckling the sheath across my back and setting my sword against the wall. No longer did I feel the need to wear full body black metal armor wherever I went. Instead, leathers were just fine. Though I wasn’t relinquishing my blade for anything.

There was trust in peace and then there was stupidity.

He handed me a healthy measure, and we toasted to the Fates before draining our glasses. “Tell me, Vaxen, how fares the south?”

We couldn’t return to Uzhhorod without a full report of the goings on of this part of Keleti.

“The harvest grows more plentiful with each passing year,” he started, rounding his desk and sitting. “We even have a new collective of female-run farms focused on regenerative soil methods. With the help of a few Angels, they’ve had quite the success."

“Impressive, indeed,” I commented as Vaxen refilled my drink. I settled in a large chair across from him, the wood creaking under my bulk. “And your garrison?”

“Ensuring peace remains. We haven’t had an incident in,” he paused, checking under a pile of papers on the corner of his desk, “six months.”

That eased some of the tightness in my chest. With the south of Keleti so far removed from the war, peoples on both sides of the mighty Graz river had been some of the hardest to convince of the changes.

“The monarchs will be glad to hear it,” I assured him. Footsteps echoed in the hall, and then Assyria and Dara entered our space. Dara strode to her husband, leaning to whisper in his ear.

Assyria rounded in front of me, blocking them from further view. “The two of them are going to go into town to fetch us lunch. To give us the space and privacy we need.”

I’d written to them before our departure from Uzhhorod, explaining the true nature of our visit. Of course, they couldn’t refuse the Halálhívó. Still, I appreciated them giving us free reign of their home.

Vaxen rose, and Assyria stepped to the side. “There is an excellent pie shop that has recently opened in the main square. Female run, naturally. Is there a particular flavor you’d like?”

“I’ll let my mate decide,” I replied, giving her wrist a squeeze. My fingers absently traced the H I’d carved into her skin.

“Apple,” she grinned.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Dara laughed. “I picked a basketful from the trees outside just this morning. We’ll have them made with that.”

The kindness and consideration Dara showed my mate warmed my vicious heart. This was what Assyria had fought so fiercely for. Females working together. Treated equally to their male counterparts. Owning businesses. Flourishing on their own.

“That sounds amazing,” she breathed.

Both dipped their heads. “If you will excuse us, we’ll return in an hour or so. The formal dining room is set for a late lunch.”

“We will see you then,” I told them. They strode from the room, speaking in hushed tones.

I tugged Assyria close to me, cupping the back of her thighs to hold her in place. She twisted her mother’s ring around her finger and inhaled a shuddering breath. “I’m ready.”