Tyson shifted his weight. “Don’t tell me you’ve rethought your decision to leave Château Rose to me?”

  I shook my head. “I have broken the Blood Treaty, and I know it could mean banishment. Or death.” Tyson tried to cut in, but I spoke over him. “If he takes my head, I want your word that you will take care of Claire. Offer her a place in your court. And treat my child as a son.” Tyson went to say something else, and I could tell it was some long-winded speech. “Just say that you will do as I ask, and nothing more.”

  He set his hand on my shoulder and said, “I swear it.”

  I expelled a tight breath, trying to keep my emotions from showing on my face. Now was not the time to come apart. Not when so much good was unfolding around me.

  Glancing past the fort and to the mountains in the distance, I forced a smile. “I think,” I said slowly, “it’s time to go back home.”

  For the first time in a long time, I didn’t mean Château Rose. I meant Amara. The place I wished to return to with Claire. If Marius lets me live, I hoped to return to the banks of the Starfall River. I wanted to raise my son on the same trails I once ran. I wanted to fish, hunt, and grow vegetables beside a small cottage.

  After five hundred years, I was ready to rest.

  Chapter 45

  Deuil

  CLAIRE

  The next two days were a blur. We tended the injured and forged friendships with the local witches and humans. We broke bread with them and listened to their stories. One Witch of the Light who accepted Bastien’s peace even performed a healing spell on my wounds, stopping the bleeding. She urged me to use the salve to lessen scarring, but I refused. I wanted the scars. They were proof I survived.

  We returned to Chastity’s Stronghold yesterday, and since then, I couldn’t stop touching my neck. Only a thin gold chain, marking me as Bastien’s mate, remained. No lace. Just the scars pulling when I turned or swallowed. Freedom from Mama’s curse still felt unreal.

  Today, Tansy and I volunteered to help Chastity’s witches prepare the bodies of the fallen for death rites. They had fought against Tansy’s help, but I’d insisted. Inside the cold, dark cellar, with the stench of death and dried blood saturating the room, we bathed them and applied ceremonial oils. Any who followed Damien, whether witch or human, were being prepared for burial.

  Devlinn, who was being given the highest honor of a hero, would be burned in a pyre, alongside the body of the demon Gorrath. Thankfully, I wouldn’t need to clean Gorrath or see his body before the ceremony. He was being personally tended to by Chastity. In the end, he had lived up to his bargain with her. He had protected her from Shayla. And he’d done the same for me, too.

  When Tansy pulled back the black sheet that had been covering Devlinn, she sucked in a sharp breath. Tears immediately flowed down her cheeks.

  “Could you give us some privacy?” I asked the other witches. Still clearly angry, they left the room in a huff without providing us further instructions on how to prepare a hero’s body.

  I wrapped my arms around Tansy as she sobbed into my shoulder. Pain clenched my chest, but I forced my own tears back. I had to deliver his message. I had decided against telling her I’d seen him. That I’d hugged him one last time. That I had the chance to apologize. None of it would ease the raw ache she carried. Stroking her trembling back, I whispered, “He loved your laugh. Did you know that?”

  She sniffed. “What?”

  I forced a smile. “Yes, he loved your laugh. He said it made him fall in love with you.”

  She shed more tears. “Who falls in love with someone because of their laugh?” she sputtered, managing a laugh herself. Even here, I understood what he meant, it was musical. “He wouldn’t want his death to stop you from laughing again. I know it.”

  She wiped her face with a clean strip of silk, then looked back down at his body. “I know. It’s just hard right now.”

  I nodded, unable to imagine her grief.

  A soft knock fell against the cellar door. “Come in,” I said, imagining it was one of Chastity’s witches. But it wasn’t. A younger witch appeared in the doorway. Her hair had been brushed and braided. Her face had been cleaned. She had been given a fresh set of clothes. But I recognized the hollowness in her eyes.

  Mellie said nothing as she peered at us around the door. Her gaze fell to Devlinn’s body.

  “What do you want?” Tansy snapped. “Aren’t you supposed to be with a guard?”

  The girl lifted her chin and stepped inside. “She’s right behind me.” Mellie opened the door enough for me to see a female soldier standing in the corridor. “I wanted to offer my help preparing the bodies for death rites.”

  “Why?” Tansy asked.

  A bit of the girl’s confidence wavered. Her clenched hands trembled. "I trained with the priestesses who delivered death rites before..." Her voice broke, raw with memory. She shook her head. "I heard those witches snickering, saying you’ll muck up his honors because you don’t know the right prayers.” Mellie let out a derisive snort that would’ve put Natalia to shame. "Bunch o’ pompous jerks, they are."

  “That’s bold, coming from the witch who killed him!”

  Silence filled the cellar. I held my tongue, knowing it wasn’t my place to intervene. I’d already vouched for Mellie once.

  “Fine.” She stayed, arms crossed, as Tansy dipped a cloth in clean water, holding it over his body but unable to start. Fresh tears fell.

  “Why?” she choked out. “Why?”

  I pressed my lips together to keep my own tears at bay. Unsure how long I should let this go on. I didn’t want something bad to happen again, but Tansy did deserve an answer.

  Mellie bit her lip, fighting tears. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that spell. I was angry. I’d watched those weres do—” She shook her head. Fists clenched, she tried again: “I didn’t mean to kill him. I’ll go.”

  She pushed her way past the door and then the guard, her footsteps echoing as she ran. Tansy blew out a breath, dropped the rag, then went after her. Worried she was going to strangle her, I followed after.

  “Mellie!” she shouted, drawing the attention of the witches who were, in fact, snickering in the corridor. “Come back here!”

  The guard dragged her back to us by the arm. Tansy and Mellie were both breathing heavily. Both angry, just for very different reasons. Finally, Tansy dropped her hands to her sides. The anger that had been raging in her quieted. “Teach me how to say the prayers.”

  Mellie stopped struggling against the guard. “I’m not going to do it if this is just your way to berate me some more.”

  Tansy shook her head. “I won’t.” She stepped aside, letting Mellie pass. Her guard glanced at me for approval.

  I nodded weakly. “She’s not going to cause any trouble.”

  * * *

  Once Devlinn’s body was prepared for the pyre, we left Tansy alone with him to say her final goodbyes. Mellie shuffled beside me. Both of our sleeves were wet and rolled up to the elbow. Both of us stinking of ritual oil and fresh herbs.

  “What are you going to do now?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Find my guard.”

  I stopped. So did she. “No. I mean, after we leave. Chastity won’t let you stay.”

  She shrugged. “I’ll find work. Maybe open a mortuary. People will still need help with the dead, even with peace.”

  It was hard to imagine her, alone, cleaning bodies. Without a coven, she’d be vulnerable. “Why not come with us?”

  She waved her hands in the air. “No. You just take care of my siblings. Get them out of these parts. I don’t care if there’s a peace accord or not. Trouble will be back. Mark my words.”

  I wanted to reach for her, to set a hand on her shoulder, but I knew it would be too much. “We have room for you, too.”

  She scoffed. “And be treated like a criminal the whole time? Followed around by a guard? I’ll take my chances on the road.”

  Devlinn’s death was just as much on my hands as it was on hers. I had pushed her before she was ready. If I’d had magick when Shreesa was pushing me, I might’ve killed her too.

  “I won’t pressure you to come with us,” I said, trying to push calm into my voice. “But you’re welcome to join us. As long as you understand that you’ll encounter Witches of the Light and people different from you in the Unified Territories. And if you hurt anyone or threaten them, you will face punishment. There won’t be second chances.”

  She gave me a look, I thought she might agree, but then her eyes dimmed, and she left. I wanted to go after her, but knew it wouldn’t change her mind.

  A cold wind clawed at my face as I stood beside Bastien in the clearing outside Chastity’s Stronghold. Tiny snowflakes swirled in spirals around the large funeral pyre.

  Chastity’s witches stood behind her. Each dressed in ceremonial black robes that were embroidered with crimson thread at the hems. The thing that surprised me the most was the horns they wore. Different sizes and shapes. Even Mellie was wearing a short, stubby pair that she must’ve smuggled with her.

  There was so much I didn’t know about the ways of Dark Witches.

  There was one thing I knew that they didn’t: what the God of the Underworld’s horns looked like. The way they twisted from his brow. I also knew what his grace felt like. Even though my mother had insisted he was evil incarnate, Damien hadn’t demanded I become one of his demons. He’d let me come back to Bastien. I touched the mottled scars at my neck, thankful for the life that he’d allowed me to come back to.

  I glanced at my husband, carved from cold stone like his Château. I knew his lack of a smile didn’t mean he wasn’t happy. In fact, quite the contrary. He was about to secure a peace he’d long sought. The wind tugged at his cloak, revealing the bloodstone that pulsed at his chest. He wasn’t hiding our matebond anymore. He was displaying it. Loud and proud for everyone to see. And it made me love him even more.

  I wanted to reach for him, but I didn’t. I stood beside him as his duchess. As his wife. Chin held high.

  Chastity’s crimson lips curled into a smile. “So, it’s agreed,” she said, extending her hand.

  “It’s agreed,” he answered.

  Her smile deepened. “Then, by the old magicks, let this accord be struck.”

  She extended her hand, and Bastien clasped it. A warm light formed between their palms, just as it had when he’d shaken the hands of all those people inside the fort.

  “Now, I am under your protection.”

  “Now, I am your guardian. And I will protect this peace.”

  The cold wind howled around us, and Bastien turned to those gathered around us.

  “Let this land be lawless no more. Let its people find peace. Let this moment signify the beginning of a long and lasting truce that serves the people and forges a new era of prosperity.

  Cheers went up. Then a witch brought Chastity a torch. I reached for Tansy’s hand as Chastity ignited the pyre. She passed the torch to Bastien, and he lit another side. On it went. We all took turns sending them off with prayers on our lips. Finally, Tansy took the torch and tossed it on top, and it landed right on Devlinn’s chest.

  I held her as it burned. Bastien stood at my side, one hand on my shoulder, silently supporting me. I don’t know how long we stood there, watching it burn down. Long enough that my legs ached and my eyes were raw from tears. Until there was nothing left to see.

  Bastien left me long enough to bring our horse around. Tansy rode with Lady Okeri. Sera with Alec.

  Bastien helped me climb onto Lucien’s back. The horse’s hot breath puffed white in the icy air. He mounted behind me with the ease of a vampire. One hand resting protectively on my stomach. I still hadn’t told him about meeting Damien, or the trade I’d made. Not because I wanted to keep more secrets, but because parts of my journey were meant to be private.

  The choice I made to give up immortality wasn’t something I needed to retell. It was deeply personal. And I didn’t want to see guilt in his eyes every time I fell ill, or when I struggled. Or, when I eventually died. I wanted him to feel nothing but gratitude for the life we had together and for the ones to come. For the children that will stay with him when I’m gone and who will be waiting for me to be reborn. For the grandchildren and great-grandchildren who will get to know me as a young woman and who will teach me things.

  My husband pressed a kiss against my temple. “Let’s go home.”

  I nodded, leaning against his broad chest. Clicking his tongue, then giving a command in Sanguisi, Lucien began trotting away. The smell of the pyre lingered on my clothes and in my hair.

  Chastity’s voice chased us into the distance. “Don’t forget! If you fuck me over, I will haunt you forever!”

  Bastien and I shared a smile. “A truly horrifying prospect,” he said. Then shouted back, “I couldn’t possibly forget.”

  My friends joined us on the road, riding beside us. Natalia. Tyson. Everyone. We’d all come so far together. I took a moment to really look at all of them. To memorize their faces. Even the soldiers we’d brought with us.

  The wind picked up as we rode out, carrying with it the scent of frost, distant pines, and old magick. For what felt like hours, we saw nothing but snow and ice. Bastien and I rode in silence. And soon, my tired eyes closed, and I drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 46

  Apaiser

  CLAIRE

  We made camp one last time as the sun dipped below the horizon. Bastien explained it was tradition to rest for a night before the trek up the mountains. One night to prepare the soldiers to see their families and mourn the dead privately. The sky was painted in golds and pinks and soft purples.

  Our tent was small, but I didn’t mind. The deer hide kept out the worst of the cold. As I ducked inside, the weight of the day settled over me until I couldn’t hold back the tears. They dripped down my cheeks like hot streams, and I wiped them away as I collapsed on a pile of furs.

  For a while, I was too tired and heartsick to do anything but lie there and stare at the flicker of the campfire beyond the tent’s opening. Muffled voices nearby reminded me I wasn’t alone.

  We’d won. We’d negotiated the peace that Bastien had been chasing for centuries. Mama was gone. The choker was nothing but a scrap of lace. I had my sister back. But the cost was high. We’d lost Devlinn. And many families had been torn apart. Like the children that we’d found in the tunnels.

  If I let myself think about it for too long, I would collapse. So I let myself imagine the future—a quiet life, far from battles. A life where Bastien and I could be at peace. Where the orphans we were bringing back with us to Château Rose could start a new life. I couldn’t give them their parents back, but we could offer them a safe place to heal. Where they didn’t need to worry about food or about someone stealing them in the night.

  The flap of the tent stirred, and Bastien stepped inside. I sat up, wiping the moisture from my face. His pale blue eyes met mine, and for a moment, the storm in my chest calmed.

  Whether it was our bond or just the sight of him, I wasn’t sure. But when he sank onto his knees beside me and took my face in his hands, I closed my eyes and kissed him, fingers tangling in his hair, tears still falling.

  With my lips pressed against his, I said, “We did it.”

  He didn’t say anything. Instead, he kissed me again. Hungrier this time. Like it was the only thing he needed. Not my blood. Not my body. Just the heat of my mouth. Just… me. His hands slid from my face, trailing down my neck to my shoulders, his cool touch soothing and familiar. I clung to him, my fingers tangling in his hair, the silky strands a sharp contrast to the rough calluses of his hands.

  His breath was uneven when he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against mine. “When we return home, we’ll send out invitations for Tyson’s Investiture. And we’ll make preparations to leave.”

  The tears spilled freely now. I loved Château Rose. It was my home. But I was relieved to find a quieter life. Bastien wiped my tears away with the rough pad of his thumb.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

  His hand cupped my cheek, tilting my face so I couldn’t avoid his gaze. “Don’t,” he said, his voice firm. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Not with me.”

  The bond between us threaded through the spaces where words weren’t enough. He tilted my chin, his lips brushing against mine again, this time softer, slower. The grief that had been sitting on my chest eased, one breath at a time, as his hands moved to my dress, fisting sections of the heavy fabric and pulling it up. Cursing under his breath when he found the soft stockings I wore underneath.

  “Must everything about you tease me?”

  He ran his hands up the smooth fabric and unhooked my stockings. His fingers on my bare thighs sent sparks down my spine.

  “I need you,” he breathed against my mouth.

  I pulled him closer and unfastened his cloak. Its weight fell away, leaving only him.

  There was nothing restrained about the way his hands roamed over my body, claiming every inch as though he could rewrite the hurt written into my skin. His lips followed, leaving a trail of gentle kisses along my neck, my collarbone, each touch lighting a fire that chased away the cold.

  I didn’t think of the war, the witches, or the wolves. For now, there was only the sound of our breaths and the slide of skin against skin as he pulled himself free and guided me onto his lap. I gripped his shoulders and sank down on him. Letting myself drown in the moment, in him.

  With our foreheads pressed together, I didn’t care who was listening or what they thought about it. I moaned for him. I twisted my fingers into his hair. Riding him up and down. Over and over. It felt good, but I was distracted. Too much had happened, and I felt disconnected from my own pleasure.