64

It filled me with fierce pride to watch the dragon defeated, to know I had helped put swords in the right hands. To hear the Rusalki tell Baba Yaga that the little pestykk had been returned to their families and that her teeth and claws had been scattered to the wind.

For their crimes, the tsarytsya and Midnight were to be imprisoned, and not executed. Her people were weary of blood, and chose no more to be Wolves. Sunset was never seen again, presumably having fled into the lands she’d once been tasked with conquering.

Vechirnya was wise, and careful, and I doubted we’d catch her. But her escape would be its own punishment; she would be looking over her shoulder forever. Knowing that she had brought night to so many lands, and that the night might well fall on her someday.

But things in the capital were ended quickly.

Some in the city returned to the wild. Others remained within its walls. And there, Stupka-Zamok—the Mortar—was being transformed. The tramp of soldiers’ boots and the city’s ubiquitous gray were replaced with music and color; and as the sun sank down on the horizon and limned every stone with warmth, one of the Vodyanoi issued the call to prayer. A hundred men and women answered, Wash among them. And on Baba Yaga’s house, others of the victorious rebels painted an icon above the door, the Madonna and Child larger than life and haloed with gold.

The city glowed with art and faith and defiance of the darkness they had shaken off, and it filled me with belief that all would be well—here in the place I left behind, and home, as I returned to right old wrongs.

The crowd remained in the courtyard into the night, eating and drinking and laughing and grieving for the lost. I sat with my friends against the tower wall, Torden nearly asleep against me, my crew and Bear and the Sidhe as easy and comfortable around our fire in Stupka-Zamok’s remains as we ever were at court.

It was the Sidhe who had kept the Beholder from ruin, Perrault explained to me. “They knew what we did not, and they’d warned us not to risk Zatemnennya.”

My protocol officer’s face was drawn. He didn’t look like a portrait, now, or a fox. He looked tired.

“I was supposed to guide you as you courted suitors. And instead, you end up in the middle of a war.” Perrault hung his head. “I never meant for this to happen. I never intended to answer to a woman like Alessandra at all.”

I thought of Aleksei trapped in Baba Yaga’s service, and thought Perrault’s might be a familiar tale. “Sometimes our plans get away from us,” I offered.

Perrault hmmed in agreement. “I wanted to join the Academy of New York. The immortals, they were called. I wanted to leave a mark, shape the language of New York with an eye to the future. And my mentor found me a place there.” He took a long breath, eyes trained on the ground.

“But?” I prompted.

“But the cost was too great. I had to support his proposals unreservedly, curry favor at near nightly salons. Politics and etiquette became my life. Worst of all, if he needed someone to collect from his debtors, I was his man. The day he was found dead in his mistress’s bed, I breathed freely for the first time in six years.” Perrault went pink with shame. “And then his daughter, Alessandra, appeared on my doorstep.”

I stilled.

“She told me that the debt I’d owed her father was now owed to her. When she left for Potomac, I prayed Alessandra would forget me. But we know how that story ended.”

My nerves fired at the despair in his face.

Would everything return to the way it was before, when we faced Alessandra again? Would Perrault bend again to her will? Would I?

“No,” I said, defiant. “We don’t know how that story ends. It’s not finished yet.”

I had to believe we’d be different. Stronger. That even my stepmother wasn’t powerful enough to undo how much we had changed.

Perrault watched me, a little despairing, as though wishing it could be true.

I scanned the crowds around us. “Perrault, would you have believed this morning that tonight was possible?”

“No,” he admitted.

“Me either.” Torden’s head drooped onto my shoulder. Across the circle, I caught Bear grinning at us, and I grinned back. “There’s still a chance this story ends happily.”

Torden reached for my hand in his doze, and Perrault eyed our linked fingers, curious. “Certainly, part of it will.”

“And if some,” I asked, putting all my heart into the words, “why not all?”

“Why not, indeed?” Perrault gave me a tired but genuine smile.

And when he returned to the Beholder to sleep and Torden finally roused himself to find some blankets, Bear took a seat next to me.

“Hello,” he said tentatively, settling cross-legged on the ground.

“Hi,” I said, almost like agreeing.

I couldn’t believe how far he’d come to help us. I couldn’t believe this was the heir to Saint George’s England, the boy who had kissed me and lied to me. I had shouted at him on Winchester’s doorstep, had left him behind in tears.

“So.” He nodded after Torden’s back, blue eyes wry. “Him.”

I nodded, my smile going a little rueful. “It’s that obvious?”

Bear bobbed his head slowly. “You’re—easier together. Than you and I were.” He cleared his throat, bowing his head. “But you used to look at me that way.”

My heart gave a painful beat.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “My God, Selah, I’m so sorry for what we did. I’ve had so much time to think, and I know you must have been utterly humiliated, and it was just—”

“Bear,” I interrupted him. “It’s okay.”

He winced. “Really?”

“Well, it was awful at the time,” I admitted. He grimaced. “But I’ve had to make hard choices, myself, since I’ve left you. And after all the terrible things that have happened, it just doesn’t make sense to fret over healed injuries.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” Bear glanced across the circle at his knights, and I nodded meaningfully at the girl who had caught me earlier outside the tower.

“So,” I said. “Her.”

“Gwyn, you mean.” Bear blushed. “I saw her wearing cowslips not long after you left, and I started asking questions. And then Perrault radioed us, told us what had happened to you. My father said we wouldn’t become involved. But I had to come.” He pushed his rumpled hair off his forehead, grinning ruefully. “I think Gwyn was a little worried I’d show up here and fall at your feet and beg for your forgiveness and your hand.”

My shoulders unclenched with relief at this. Because it meant he wouldn’t.

I swallowed. “How’s Veery?”

Bear sobered, heaving a long breath. “Lost all his charm and a good deal of blood with that shot to the thigh he took. But the surgeons got to him in time. He’s resting now.”

“What a relief,” I sighed.

He stared into the fire, looking pensive. “I don’t know what I would do without him. We’re supposed to be starting Oxford together in the spring, Veery and Gwyn and Kay and I.”

“Oxford?” I brightened.

Bear nodded, his mood lightening a little, too. “We’ll have missed the start of Michaelmas term so we’ll go up in Hilary. Father’s excited. And I find I am, too.”

I didn’t know what any of that meant, but I nodded happily, if a little enviously. College.

Then he shook himself, straightening, planting his tanned hands on his knees. “Right. I’m nattering on. What will you do next? Where are you off to now?”

Torden came and sat down next to me, and I nodded from him to Bear. “Torden, Bear. Prins of Norge. Prince of England.” They shook hands, Torden serious, Bear amused. I linked my fingers through Torden’s.

“We,” I said, “are going home.”