Mortality is a sweet, terrible cup. I’ve learned to drink it slowly, day by day. The weeks seem longer than before, filled with complicated duties. Introducing magic into the mortal’s world is no easy task, but it’s one Richard has accepted wholeheartedly. They laughed at him, Parliament, the press, all of them. Then the Fae began appearing. The mortals were terrified at first. But after several silver-tongued speeches, Richard put most of their fears and misgivings to rest.
I’ve become an ambassador of sorts: the go-between for magic and mortal. My days are filled with reports from the surviving Fae and interviews with the clamoring press. It’s hard without Breena. I miss her every day, and that ache refuses to go away.
Even in the middle of all this chaos, we still find time together: stolen, candlelit dinners, strolls down the river in the last long draws of autumn light. Some evenings we’re too exhausted to talk much. We just enjoy each other’s company: strokes of the arm, the brief, tingling meeting of lips.
This evening, walking along the Thames beneath the amber sunset, Richard’s face looks especially agitated. I hook my arm into his, walking nimbly over the pattern of gray-brown stones.
“What’s wrong?” I catch glimpses of shadows behind us, Richard’s human security, following at a distance. And somewhere, on the other side of the river, the youngling Ferrin keeps watch.
“Long day.” He shrugs, rakes his stray hairs back with his fingers. “We talked about the concept of magically infused technology in Parliament.”
“Oh? How’d they take it?”
“There were lots of questions, of course. You’ll have to go talk to them. They want to know about all of the different properties of magic: its reliability and safety. Things like that. I don’t even know where to begin with that stuff.”
“You? The most magical of us both?” I tease him with a jab between the ribs.
He jerks back, bumping into the river barrier. “Hey, now! I might have to hex you or something.”
“I’d like to see you try.” I smirk. Richard’s magic, though powerful, was never like mine. It works on its own terms. He hasn’t quite gotten a handle on it.
“Will you see them?” he asks after our playful banter dies.
“If that would make it easier for you. But I’m going north to meet with Titania tomorrow to talk about the redistribution of the Guard and policing London for soul feeders. She’s just been appointed the new queen.” News I greeted with relief. Despite my past differences with Titania, her blunt ruthlessness is what it takes to run a kingdom of Fae.
“How did they decide that?”
“It’s mostly an age thing. . . . But I think most of the older ones didn’t want the job—it’s a lot of responsibility.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” he laughs.
“It’s good it’s not one of the older ones,” I go on. “We don’t want a repeat of what happened with Mab.”
“Well, I’m glad it’s Titania. I like her.” Richard wraps his arm around me, steers me in his own direction.
“Where are we going?” I forget Titania and all of the meetings.
“I want to show you something.”
We cross a street thick with traffic and walk along the bridge over the river. It’s soon obvious where we’re going. Straight ahead is a structure of such power and elegance that all of London revolves around it: Parliament’s clock tower.
We climb the limestone steps all the way to the tower’s iconic clock face. Fire-flared, tangerine sun-rays fill the glass around the lacing black iron. I stand, admiring the web of light.
“My father used to bring me up here when I was a boy. He loved clocks. Loved the gears, all of it.” Richard lets out a little laugh. There’s only a hint of the old sadness in his eyes. “Of course, you probably remember that.”
“I wasn’t with you then,” I whisper, entranced by the show of color. The light ebbs, fading into pale rose before the glass returns to frost white.
“That was just a sideshow,” Richard tells me, and walks back to the stairs. “The real view is up here.”
We climb a few floors above the cloudy clock face.
My heart aches at the height. I hold my breath and look out on the blooming night lights of London. One by one they flicker on, like harmonic, long-lived lightning bugs. The view is bittersweet: a breathtaking reminder that I’ll never fly again.
“You showed me my kingdom once,” Richard says, coming up behind me. He wraps his arms around my waist and gazes out onto the glowing landscape. “You showed me what I could be. You showed me how much you loved me and believed in me.”
I clasp his hands tighter to me. Being up so high, without the reassurance of magic, has made me a bit dizzy.
He hugs me closer. “None of this would have happened without you, Emrys. It’s just as much your kingdom as it is mine.”
London’s lights form patterns—an electric cosmos riddled with constellations. I squint my eyes and they become a blur. A single, blinding brightness.
“Do you remember what you asked me at Windsor? The night you made your choice?” Richard moves to my side. The wind bites my back where he once stood. “You made me promise that this—us—would be forever.”
I turn from the smearing lights and stare at Richard. He’s looking down at me, eyes smoky and intense.
“It’s you and me now, Embers. And one day, someday, we’ll tell the whole world that. But for now all I can offer you is this.” His hand slips into the pocket of his trousers and pulls out a small velvet box. “It’s a symbol of my promise.”
The ring inside is jade and silver filigree. I gaze into the band, studying how its sterling curls over a base of minty, sea green. Deep in the fullness of my soul, I know Richard is right. No matter when that final end comes, we are forever.
“It reminded me of your eyes,” he says after a moment.
“It’s beautiful!” It truly is. Somewhere in the world a jeweler sleeps well, knowing his masterpiece has found a home. “It’s enough. You’re enough.”
Richard closes the last few inches between us and kisses me. I bask in the taste of him—purely him. No panic, no worry. Just Richard. His sun spices and sea salt. The unyielding muscles of his arms under my palm. The warmth and love of his breath on my face.
His lips against mine are passionate, yet not frantic. There’s no fear of discovery, no rogue magic behind the intimate brush of skin. It’s simply us together: a sea of red hair swirling with his lion’s mane. Milky skin on gold, freckles dancing everywhere. The night bathed with hushed whispers and secret smiles as we become closer to one.
In a brief break of passion, I catch sight of the stars and their luminance. They are few, scattered at this hour, twinkling and dancing to music those of us on earth can’t hear. I think of Breena. Of all the others who’ve slipped up into the heavens. One day, in a few short decades, I’ll join them.
Richard’s fingers tighten around mine, tugging my thoughts back down to the clock tower. I smile and kiss him again. Big Ben chimes the hour, shaking the stones beneath our feet. The time is here and now. It is ours.