Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 136009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“He did,” Kerrigan agreed with a sniff. “You put light back in his.”
“And we are worse for his loss.”
Kerrigan nodded in agreement.
Anya rubbed at her cheeks. “I may not deserve the honor you are giving me, but I am grateful. I never thought I would return to Lillington, and I treasure every moment I had with Kivrin before his death.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Kerrigan said honestly.
Then they linked arms and continued into Anya’s hometown.
Together, they met what family she had left in the town, the people here who had known Kerrigan as a child, who remembered last Geivhrea when Kerrigan and Fordham had been named king and queen of the village. There were significantly more children roaming around the roads, as if that blessing at the winter holiday had proven incredibly fruitful.
And then once she saw her people, who had intermingled seamlessly with the House of Shadows folks, they continued down the road. Here was the turnoff to Rosemont, the capital. This was the start of the House of Cruse. The crossroads for her people. And the home that she would keep. That her father had always kept.
From here, she could see Corsica Forest and the town and Waisley beyond. From here, she could see it all—just like her dad would have wanted.
Kerrigan opened the urn and let the wind catch her father’s ashes. Let him rest among his lands. Let him reign among his people. Let him rest where he had once ruled.
“Goodbye,” she whispered. “Goodbye, Father.”
Chapter Sixty-Five
The Wedding
“My work here is done,” Parris said as he did up the last button on the back of her dress.
Thankfully, Parris’s shop had been unharmed in Artisan Village in all the chaos with the Red Masks. And he had gladly agreed to make her wedding dress. He’d wanted months, and Kerrigan had laughed in his face. No way was she waiting that long.
“Thank you, friend.”
“Give us a twirl.”
Kerrigan turned in a circle before the trifold mirror. The gown was exceptional—a tulle strapless number with off-the-shoulder sleeves that hung loose around her arms. The bodice was corseted, with tiny cream Corsican sunflowers sewn across the boning and down the full tulle skirt.
Benton and Bayton had spent hours on her unruly hair to make it into the elaborate updo and worked on her makeup until her skin glowed. The best part was that she was completely recognizable. She wasn’t obscured by the hours of work but enhanced. She felt nothing like the rebel who had taken on the Society, and maybe that was for the better.
“Marvelous. Send in the troops,” Parris joked.
The door opened, and her wedding party was waiting—Darby, Clover, and Hadrian. Darby entered in her green tulle gown and sufficiently oohed and aahed over the dress, hair, and makeup. Hadrian and Clover, dressed in black suits with green cravats at their necks, followed behind her, Hadrian wheeling Clover into the room. While she had made it out of the worst of the explosion coma, she was still fragile in a way she had never been before. Loch managed her chronic-pain symptoms, but there were new pains that made it difficult to walk. Amond and Darby hoped they would get her back on her feet, but it would take time.
Clover whistled. “Look at you.”
“You like it?” Kerrigan asked.
“Better than flying leathers.”
Kerrigan rolled her eyes. “I look good in leather.”
“A little risqué,” Hadrian said with his nose turned up.
Clover swatted at him. “Leave it, sweetheart.”
“That’s what I’m going for,” Kerrigan joked. “Risqué.”
“Half of the known world is going to be at this wedding, so I would hope not,” Hadrian said.
Darby shushed him. “She looks divine. Are you ready?”
“To marry Fordham? Absolutely.” Kerrigan shivered. “In front of the entire world? I don’t know.”
Darby linked her arms with Kerrigan’s, holding up her dress. “You’re a natural.”
The original four left the room behind and headed through Waisley to the double doors that led to her waiting groom. Kerrigan breathed out, slow and steady. She hadn’t seen Fordham since the night before. She’d lain in her bed all alone, wondering if she should shadow-jump to his room. She’d felt the warmth down the bond, a teasing of it, tempting her to do it. But in the end, they’d both decided to stick to tradition, not that tradition much cared for them.
A string quartet began, and one by one, Darby, Hadrian, and Clover headed down the aisle. The doors closed behind them, waiting for Kerrigan to emerge.
“Not too late, am I?”
Kerrigan turned around to find Dozan Rook standing in a black suit, the green cravat at his throat so incongruous with the red she was used to seeing on him.
“What are you doing here?” she gasped. “You’re in the wedding party.”
“I didn’t think it was right for you to walk down that aisle alone.”
A tear came to her eye, and she quickly dabbed it away. “Dozan, you’re not supposed to make me cry on my wedding day.”