Feversong (Fever #9)(147)
“You could have told me. Saved me from worrying that I was you.”
“Some things can’t be told. Only learned. Or not.”
“Then it was destined.” The idea chafed.
“Never destined. And still not written in stone. Merely possible. As are many other outcomes.”
I glanced back up at the man and woman in the mural on the ceiling of Barrons Books & Baubles.
His wings.
Her crown.
Barrons’s face.
Mine.
I studied them, the happiness in their eyes, the promise of a tomorrow I embraced. “Maybe we’ll do better.”
He laughed. “Ah, the unquenchable human hope.” Then, “Mac,” he said, and held out his hand.
It was so much more than a hand he was offering: it was nights of love so consuming it burned, days of grief that chilled, a kingdom of black ice and a mansion of alabaster. It was all possible mistakes and every imaginable success.
We would do better. What was painted above me was no more than an invitation for a future. We could accept it or turn away. The Fae were starfish, regenerating, as old ones passed, new ones arose. One thing I did know was whatever path we chose to go down, we’d do it together.
I took his hand. “Jericho.”
Fire to his ice.
Frost to my flame.
Forever.
Great, dark wings trailed behind him as Cruce moved deeper into the laboratory.
He’d felt the precise moment the king had abdicated. Like the Seelie Queen’s magic, the Fae power of the Seelie/Unseelie King had to pass to another.
It hadn’t come to him.
Yet.
Nor, however, had it gone somewhere else. It hovered in the distance, apparently undecided.
He intended to help it decide.
Cruce stood at the king’s mixing table, blending a dash of this with a bit of that, according to the spells he’d taken from the Sinsar Dubh, and in short order created his first child.
Rules. Malleable, said the one who’d spoken for the king, yet claimed not to be him.
They certainly were.
The Court of Shadows was already being reborn.
THE END
While, for MacKayla, escaping her psychopath was as simple as walking away, she had a magical method with which to restrain her stalker, and their battle occurred in a fictional world.
In a nonfictional world it’s rarely that simple.
There are many support groups and avenues of assistance to pursue if you find yourself in such a situation. The author in no way means to imply one can simply walk away. Escaping a relationship with a psychopath, sociopath, or narcissist can be difficult, damaging, and dangerous.
You are your kingdom. A vibrant, empathic, all-the-colors-of-the-rainbow kingdom. But there are those who walk among us that lack such a rich internal landscape.
Courage, above all, is the first quality of a warrior.
This one is for you, intrepid readers, for picking up a copy of Darkfever and following me into the Dark Zone, keeping the faith and staying to the light, and being outstanding company until closing time.
I tip my glass with a slainte and a heartfelt go raibh maith agat.
The Fever series wouldn’t exist without you.
My debt of gratitude for Feversong could be a short book in and of itself, but since I just finished writing a very long one, I’ll endeavor to keep it brief. I’ve been living in the Fever World for eleven years and have formed so many wonderful and lasting friendships because of it. Bringing it to a close has been bittersweet yet exhilarating.
Enormous, everlasting thanks to my brilliant editor, Shauna Summers, who championed the series from the very beginning; a huge shout-out to my outstanding team at Random House: Kara Welsh, Scott Shannon, Matthew Schwartz, Gina Wachtel, Gina Centrello, Sarah Murphy, Hanna Gibeau, Alex Coumbis, Kate Childs, Kim Hovey, Katie Rice, and Ashleigh Heaton; kudos and much appreciation to Lynn Andreozzi and the art department for the fabulous covers over the years.
A deep debt of gratitude to my brother, Brian, who knows the Fever World nearly as well as I do, and tirelessly hashed out the psychological/emotional nuances with me until we were both satisfied I’d done justice to my original vision.
Many thanks to Anne Wessels-Paris for the Friday afternoon coffee/talks as we navigated the darkest parts of the labyrinth, and to Dr. Joseph Dagenbach for consulting about Dancer’s condition.
Much love and appreciation to Mia Suarez (aka Happi Anarky) for years of inspiration and Fever art. It’s pure joy to trip the slipstream with you. You’re made of all the right stuff: love, passion, a backbone of steel, and a teaspoon of stardust.
And always, always, thanks to you, intrepid readers, who are the reason I get up each morning, eager to rush to that blank page where I strive to make the magic happen.
Somewhere along the way, Mac and Barrons, Dani and Ryodan, and the rest of the crew became as real to you as they are to me, and that’s both the greatest reward and most cherished compliment.
I’m looking forward to the next adventure with all of you.
Stay to the Light.
Karen