“Gladly, Your Highness.”
A Magician stepped up and slipped a pair of brass cuffs around Thibodaux’s wrists. Another produced a golden chain and wound it around Thibodaux’s broad chest. Only then did Armati remove her hand from his throat. She faced me fully. “The Council acknowledges the... services you provided today. We’d like to discuss establishing a formal diplomatic relationship, once your coronation is complete.”
“So I’m no longer at the top of your most wanted list?”
She cracked a slim smile. “I think you’ll have enough items on your agenda to keep you busy and out of trouble for some time.”
The Council ushered their prisoners away, but as he left, Baron Fontaine called out in a fractured voice. “Forgive me, Brigette.”
His daughter’s eyes glittered cold and hard behind her spectacles, which had somehow survived the battle unscathed. She’d lit a djageesh cigarette and took a casual puff. “Perhaps I’ll come visit you in prison, Father. But I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”
His mask slipped, revealing a glimpse of remorse before the Council marched him off.
Magus Armati flicked her fingers toward me. “Bring Faercourt too.”
“No.” I snatched Jackie’s hand and clenched it between my own. “Leave him with me. I’ll see him returned home. He has a sister—” A sob lodged in my throat, blocking my words.
The High Magus nodded. “He’s yours, then. But know that Magicians are not to be buried when they die.”
“They are burned,” Brigette said. “I know the rights and rituals, my lady Magus. I’ll see that he’s properly memorialized.”
Belladonna Armati nodded once and strode away, following her Magical battalion. I raised a hand toward Gideon. He took it and tugged me to my feet. I removed my Thunder Cloak and arranged it like a shroud over Jackie’s body.
“We’ll build a pyre tonight after sundown,” Brigette said. Her face was as gaunt as ever. Her hair hung in stray, limp curls. She looked as frail as she had the day I found her. “I wasn’t strong enough, Evie. I’m sorry.”
“You were when it counted, I suppose. That’s all that matters in the end.”
Tears sparkled in her big brown eyes, but she did not let them fall. “Now what? What do I do with myself?”
“Now you help me rebuild.” I pointed at Fallstaff, my scarred and wounded house. “Help me make this a home for a new generation.”
Her face brightened. “You want me to stay?”
I glanced at Niffin, who was wan, pale, and covered in blood but stood with Malita’s help. He winked at me. Rolling my eyes, I turned to Malita. She offered one of her bright, warm smiles.
“I want you all to stay,” I said.
Brigette was an unstable force, but perhaps a bit of stability would give her time to figure out who she was and what kind of Magician she wanted to be. We all had been seeking our own personal second chances—I wouldn’t deny her a chance to find hers.
“Please.”
I took Gideon’s hand and leaned on him as we made our way across the lawn, approaching the faithful believers who’d lingered. I had nothing to offer other than my appreciation. They deserved so much more, but expressing my thanks seemed like a good way to start.
“I take it that when you said you want us all to stay, you meant me as well?” Gideon squeezed my hand. “You haven’t changed your mind?”
I threaded my fingers between his and brought our entwined hands to rest over my heavy iron heart. “Will you ever stop doubting that I want you? That no matter what your past was, your future is here with me? I want you to stay with me, Gideon. I want you to stay forever.”
***
Despite our exhaustion, we worked through the afternoon with the help of a few locals to collect enough firewood to build a respectable pyre. Gerda had returned, and she found clean gauze and the necessary herbs Brigette required to dress Jackie’s body. As the sun set and darkness filled the sky, Gideon and Niffin laid his body in repose as Brigette spoke ancient mystical words in the language of Magic.
Stars twinkled overhead, and I searched for signs of the Aeolus constellation, but it was the wrong time of the year, and we were too far north to spot it. Brigette lit her torch with a touch of Magical fire and touched it to the base of Jackie’s pyre. Flames leapt to life, hot, bright, and instant.
I cried as Gideon held me close.
“I want to hate him,” he said. “But he died trying to save you. Regardless of his motives, I owe him my life. I wish him peace in the afterlife.”
“Maybe my Grandfather’s spirit will greet him.”
“Your Grandfather? But I thought he was with you. You know...” He touched the scar on my chest.
I shook my head. “Whatever happened during my transformation, I think it broke that bond between us.” I’d called for him all afternoon and throughout the evening, but he hadn’t responded. That exercise confirmed what I’d already suspected. His final words to me had been a goodbye. “He’s gone.”
Gideon hugged me closer. “But your heart, it’s all right—”
“It’s fine.” I reassured him. “Svieta gave my heart a bird’s spirit, remember? Grandfather was just a bonus, I guess.”
“You’ll miss him.”
Impossibly, my throat swelled again. How could I have any tears left? “Of course I will, but I have you and the others. I’ll have my memories.”
One of the locals who had helped us build the pyre volunteered to stand watch over Jackie while the rest of us, as a group, as a family, gathered inside Fallstaff’s kitchen to eat the supper Gerda had prepared. We were weary, wounded, bloody, and torn, but no matter what, the living had to go on living.
“I’m going to ask, Brigette, but you don’t have to answer—”
“It’s okay, Evie. You want to know about my father, right?”
We sat on stools around a large preparation table. The kitchen smelled of garlic, onions, pepper, and the richness of potatoes and carrots cooked in broth. Gerda passed out rabbit stew made from game caught by her sons and my father’s old gamekeeper. I wrapped my hands around my bowl, savoring the warmth. Savoring the moment of stillness, safety, and peace. “Yes. I do.”
