I imagined it all condensing into a little silver ball of joy and willed it into Tearloch’s body, hoping it was enough, hoping Hestia’s power and my love would be sufficient to heal.

His chest still rose and fell, but the blood stain on his shirt continued to spread.

“Come on, Tearloch,” I murmured in his ear. “Heal, my love. You can do it.”

I was vaguely aware of Rowena nearby, pulling her mother into her arms, sobbing quietly.

Nothing changed.

“You’re healing, my love. Feel it? The power of Hestia is healing you. The magic of Hestia is healing you.”

Someone knelt at my shoulder and I told them to go away. This was no time to give up. My love alone was surely enough?—

“Tearloch, listen to me. If you need more, I want you to take it from me. Do you understand? I’ll get more. I amgevri, remember? I’ll get more. Just take all you need. Take it all.”

Again, I closed my eyes and imagined a little silver ball of joy. I breathed deeply, in and out, willed my very soul into it?—

“Don’t you dare.”

I felt Tearloch’s rough voice rumble in all the bones I had wrapped around him. It was raspy, stirring—the voice he used in the whispering hours. And that little ball of joy inside me exploded into a million bits of light that could rival a hundred gardens full of glimmer-nimms!

I hovered over him so he could see them in my eyes. Then I kissed his blessedly warm lips over and over again.

With little help from me, he rose to sit. Across the room, King Aristaeus of Hestia, my great-grandfather, sat on the floor beside his handsome son, patting his shoulder and speaking words Ghloir would never hear.

Only feet away, Rowena fussed with some stray strands of Moire’s hair and stroked her lifeless cheek.

“She must have loved you,” I told Tearloch. “She knew what would happen and she jumped in front of you anyway.”

He shook his head carefully. “No, my love. Don’t you see? She did it for you.”

EPILOGUE

As it happened, Moire the Prophetess had a favorite garden, the primary feature of which was a solid square hedge of yellow, multi-petaled blossoms called sun-chimes. In the autumn season, as it was now, those blossoms were both edible and sweet. Though in Moire’s garden, tasting them was forbidden to all, except for very young children…

This was the garden of my memories.

It took ten days to plan the ceremony. If she’d been alive, the king said it would have taken two.

All of Hestia was abuzz with the news that the blue dragon had brought to Hestians only mortality and not death, and people were celebrating enough on their own. But when their revered prophetess and her royal husband had been two of the first to suffer mortal death, they became heroes. And all the world mourned them.

As for what had happened in the royal living quarters that night, the truth never had a chance to gain purchase in the imaginations of the romantic-minded. In general, they believed the couple sacrificed themselves for each other, for their deep and abiding love, though the particulars changed from one retelling to the next.

Griffon and Lennon decided not to wait for the funeral and with the help of one of the DeNoy from The Soundless prepared to go home. Bidding Bain farewell started as a horribly painful conversation that ended with a dozen empty bottles and all of us dredged, except for the DeNoy and her dragon.

The king’s health had improved slightly, though we often found each other sitting by the fire in that small room under the royal quarters. He only asked me once what I thought about replacing him on the throne, but my answer wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Hestia is working on its next iteration, and I doubt royalty will be part of it. They’ll want brave souls to lead them into the new world. They’ll need rules and medicine, and I won’t be surprised if they start digging beneath the mountain for whatever is left of the old technology. To boost things along.” I wagged my head sadly. “They won’t need anything from me but Demius’ library.”

He was delighted when I pulled the dragon key from around my neck. “You had it all this time?”

“I did.”

“I’m surprised it didn’t light up when we met.” He sighed wistfully. “I created it, you know. I couldn’t enchant it myself, but the crafting was mine.” He sighed again and shook his head. “I made so many mistakes?—”

“I am not surprised. Given that much time, anyone would make the same.”

“Demius wouldn’t have.”