Arwyn waited for everyone to be abed and then she left her chamber, a coverlet wrapped securely around her, for she was chilled and too tired to properly dress. The door to Favián’s room opened when she passed by. Arwyn froze, like someone caught doing something wrong.

“Arwyn, where are you going?”

She closed her eyes and breathed through her nose. “Just taking a walk, Favi. Go back to bed.”

“Do you want company?”

“No.”

“Arwyn—”

“Please, Favi, I wish to be alone.”

“For how long?”

She opened her eyes and turned toward him, answering honestly. “I don’t know.”

Favián’s mouth was tight around the edges. “I’m here, you know. Whenever you need me.”

“I know,” she said, knowing she wasn’t giving him any ground. She had built a wall around herself and was letting no one in. No one at all. There was simply no room with all the grief that surrounded her.

He stared a moment longer, nodded once, then returned to his room. She breathed out a long exhalation and turned her back on the closed door. Once she made her way to the communal room, she sat on the chair facing the fire, craving its warmth, and curled her feet up underneath her, the coverlet snug around her. She let her head fall against the back of the chair as she listened to the crackle of the firewood in the hearth.

A kiss of a breeze across her face caused her to stir. Arwyn’s eyes fluttered open. Realizing she must have fallen asleep, she sat up, blinking the blur away.

“You should eat something,” a familiar voice said.

Later, Arwyn would remember that moment as the most exquisite and tortured moment of her life. It happened in such sweet slowness, as if he knew she would need every second to understand, every second to accept that he was real, for she had felt she was dreaming.

She turned her head toward his voice, and there he stood, shouldering the door, as though he’d been watching her sleeping. “They said I could go home.”

“Zeph?” she squeaked. She leapt to her feet, her heart thundering against her breast. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Please be real.”

Zeph ate up the distance between them and then she was in his arms. “I’m real,” he said. “I’m very, very real.”

“You left me.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Something broke in her. Something between a laugh and a sob, between heartache and relief, between sanity and insanity. Something broke.

“Shh,” Zeph whispered. “I’m here now. I’m here, my sweets. Feel me. I’m here.”

She clung to him like he would disappear, and a sharp pain pierced his chest, quick and unexpected, like a crack in a bone.

“I wouldn’t have left you like this. Please know that.”

“How are you b-back?”

“I don’t know. They said I earned it. I don’t know if that’s true. But here I am. I’m with you, and I’m never leaving you again.”

He pulled free his neckcloth, took one of her hands in his, and wrapped their joined hands together with it.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she asked.

“Binding us together—if you will have me. I said before I didn’t know whether to marry you or be terrified of you.” He tried to offer her a grin. It trembled because he was nervous. “I want to marry you, Arwyn. Nothing about you terrifies me. Only you saying no, perhaps.” His lashes swept up to look her in the eye. “Will you marry me, my sweets?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Right now? This minute?” Life, Zeph learned, was precious, and he would take better care with the time he had.

“Right now. This minute,” she answered.

Zeph breathed a deep sigh of relief and jumped straight to his vow. “I take you to be my wife and I promise to love you all the days of my life.”

Arwyn inhaled a deep breath, looked him in the eye and said, “I take you to be my husband and I promise to love you all the days of my life.”

Zeph unwrapped their hands, brought hers to his lips, and kissed them. “Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“For loving me when I was so unlovable.”

She shrugged. “I like a challenge.”

His lips found hers. He kissed her long and deep. “Lucky for me,” he murmured as he trailed kisses down her neck.

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly.

“For what?”

“For not giving up.”

“You wouldn’t let me.”

“Because I love you.”

He drew back so he could see her...all of her. She looked at him right back, her scrutiny like a well that pulled on you, drawing you in. He traced the lines of her face with the tips of his fingers. “When they said I could go home, I didn’t know where home was. They told me to close my eyes and follow my heart. So I did. When I opened them again, I was looking at you, sleeping in that chair.”

Arwyn hugged him then. “Heartbeats,” she said. “You followed the heartbeats.”

“Yes,” he said. “I did.”

“Who told you to follow your heart?”

Zeph pressed his forehead to hers. “My mother.”

“Saints in Heaven!” Searly shouted. “You’re alive!” He rushed toward them, pulling Zeph into a fatherly embrace. His eyes were shimmering. “Alive,” he said again.

“Searly,” Zeph said. “It’s good to see you.”

“Aye.” Searly let him go, looked at Arwyn and hugged her as well. “He came back for you. Oh, the joy! I can see it in your face.” He palmed her cheeks. Then his eyes went wide. “I have to tell everyone.” Searly stepped out into the hallway, shouted their names. His voice echoed off the walls in the dead of night. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he hastily made his way down the corridors, calling out names. “Zeph is back! Come quickly!”

“I was hoping we could—”

Zeph’s words were interrupted when Elin and Lochlan orbed into the communal room. Elin’s face, oh her face, was a story unto itself. Arwyn could read it like text. For only a few moments ago that had been her standing there.

“Elin,” Zeph said softly.

She shook her head, disbelieving. “Truly? You’re here?”

“Truly,” Zeph answered. “I’m here.”

Elin launched herself into his arms. Zeph caught her, stumbling back a few paces. She sobbed, hard and fast. Arwyn noticed Lochlan drying his own eyes when he thought no one was looking.

Then Favián entered the room. His eyes found Arwyn’s first. He smiled. She smiled back. He made his way toward her, watching her all the way.

“I’m happy he’s back, Arwyn. For you. For Elin. For myself.” His eyes roamed to where Zeph and Elin stood, embracing. “I don’t understand this—magic—this life—but I won’t question it if it gives you a happy ending.”

“I don’t understand it either, Favi.” She took his hand and held it. He looked down at the way her fingers intertwined with his. “I won’t question it either.”

“I, Lochlan William Archer of Mirova, take you—”

“Prince,” Searly said.

“Pardon?” asked Lochlan.

“There is no need to deny your heritage any longer. Your father was King of Mirova. Your mother was a Faery Princess. You are a prince. Thus, you are Prince Lochlan William Archer of Mirova.”

“Searly,” Lochlan hissed through clenched teeth. “Not now.”

“Very well. We have that on record.” He waved his hand. “You may proceed.”

Elin did her best not to laugh. “You were saying, my love?”

Lochlan closed his eyes. “I was saying that I…” His eyes darted to Searly, then back to Elin, softening instantly “—take you, Eliniana Lumis Vitae, to be my wife.”

“And I, Eliniana Lumis Vitae, take you, Prince Lochlan William Archer of Mirova, to be my husband.”

Zeph smirked at his sister. And then he smirked at Lochlan. The longer he stood witnessing his sister’s wedding the gladder he was that he and Arwyn didn’t go this route.

A few more words were spoken and Searly pronounced Lochlan and Elin husband and wife. A celebration ensued, but Zeph was eager to get his wife alone. They’d not yet had the opportunity. The past few days had been a whirlwind.

While Zeph had been away, thought to never return, Elin had made some decisions. She wanted to go back to Faery. She wanted to help put Faery back together. They had no leadership, and she was afraid someone nefarious would try to fill the void. After Zeph returned, they all spoke into the wee hours of the morning for the past several mornings until they had all agreed they would go back and do what they could to help. They would be leaving first thing on the morrow.

As the celebration wore on, Zeph took Arwyn by the hand and whispered in her ear. “Come with me.” He gave her a titling smile.

She arched a brow. “Come with you where?”

“Away from the noise,” he said. “Just for a few minutes. I promise to bring you back.”

Arwyn looked over Zeph’s shoulder. He knew what she saw. Dancing, laughter. But he needed a bit of quiet. He needed a few minutes with just the two of them.

“All right. Lead the way,” she said.

Zeph took her inside the monastery. It smelled of incense and hope. He’d grown to love that smell. It comforted him. And he was going to miss it. As they walked they held hands, something else he’d grown to love, holding his wife’s hand. They had yet to mention to anyone they had married the night he’d returned. It was something they’d kept just between the two of them. Not that they were hiding it. They just weren’t ready to share it. It was theirs alone for now. They would tell the others soon enough.

As they approached the library, they heard voices. Favián’s and Searly’s they recognized; however, there was a third they did not.

“I did not realize you were coming,” Favián said. His voice sounded flat, unlike himself. Zeph pulled Arwyn to a halt, his Fae ears keen on listening.

“When Searly wrote to me, I felt I had to come.”

“Why?” Favián asked.

“I was…” the man paused, took a breath and started again. “I was wrong. I see that now. I came to tell you that, Favián. You’re my son. I miss you. I want you to come home. Your mamá and I miss you.”

“You came to tell me you were wrong?”

“Yes.”

“But you want to take me home.”

“Not because I want you to fight in the king’s army. And not because I expect you to stay. I want to mend our father-son bond. And so your mamá can see you. If you knew how she cries at night.”

“She cries?” Favián asked.

“You are her only son. You’ve never been this far away from home. She’ll get better with it over time. But she needs to see you, Favián. She hasn’t heard from you since you arrived here.”

Favián sighed. “I’m sorry, Papá. I should have taken better care.”

“I understand you have made new friends. Searly told me. Good ones.”

“I have.”

“One in particular. A girl. Arwyn, is it?”

Zeph’s eyes slid to Arwyn. She held his gaze. He tucked his arm around her and pulled her toward him. She rested her head on his chest, waiting for Favián to speak.

It seemed like a lifetime ticked by before Favián finally spoke. “I think going home is a good idea.”

“You do?” Searly asked.

“I do,” Favián said. “You heard Papá. Mamá misses me. And I miss her. I’ll come back. I just—need to sort some things out—with my father,” Favián added.

“Very good, very good,” his father said. “We can leave tonight.”

Zeph was happy for them. Truly. Favián deserved to have his father in his life. But why did it have to feel like Zeph was losing a piece of himself? It would be hard to say goodbye. But for Arwyn it would be so much harder. He looked down at his wife’s face.

She was in tears.