Rebel Born (Secondborn #3)(105)

“Where’s that?” I ask, holding back a giddy smile. We come to a stop.

“Our new home,” he says. He lifts his hands from my eyes, revealing a magnificent sunrise. A gorgeous state-of-the-art building lies before us. Its impressive stature is nestled within homey gardens, flanked by a barn and outbuildings of a similar style that add to its warmth and appeal. It’s a marvel of architecture and design, simple and sophisticated all at once.

Reykin wraps his arms around my swelling waist and gently strokes my baby belly. “We can come here when you’re able to take breaks,” he says, “from official Sword business at the Palace. Do you think Dune will like it?”

I grin, watching the horses as they graze a meadowland that stretches to the horizon. “This little guy will love it,” I assure him, “especially if his father teaches him to ride those horses one day.” I tip my cheek so that it rubs against the short bristles gracing Reykin’s jaw. My hands slip over his. “When did you do all of this?”

“I have this next-level ability to multitask,” he teases, “thanks to you.”

“Are we in the Fate of Stars?” I ask. Something seems familiar, but I can’t quite figure out why.

“Yes. We’re in Stars. It’s where we first met. This is the spot where a tiny Sword soldier stumbled alone across a battlefield and had the courage to save her enemy’s life instead of take it. And in that moment, she saved the world.”

Tears spring to my eyes. I turn in his arms.

Reykin lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me. He murmurs against my lips, “I love you, Roselle.”

The last time we were here, Reykin’s heart and spirit were both broken. In a way, mine were, too. Now we have each other. Forever.

“I love you, too, Reykin,” I whisper back, feeling a happiness I never imagined possible.





Epilogue

Reverie

Finding and destroying all the anchors between worlds proves to be arduous.

Crow hid them everywhere, amassing them like a Sword secondborn hoarded chets. Only one anchor from our world to Spectrum’s remains—the one inside the Sword Palace. Roselle and Hawthorne stanchly guard it in Spectrum while Reykin and I secure it in our world.

Today’s an auspicious occasion. It’s Transition Day. In the past, secondborns were given to the government on this day, but now it’s the day that both of our worlds gather to celebrate the end of Crow’s reign of terror. We’ve outlawed the practice of enslaving secondborns and abolished limits on the number of children a family can have. This year, the Transition Day gala’s being hosted in Spectrum’s Sword Palace by The Sword and her husband, the Fated Sword Hawthorne Trugrave.

Roselle’s title, like mine, has some of the hereditary power of our mother’s position, but we’re both striving to change the ways our worlds are governed. We are the sole Clarity in each of our worlds, the other eight Fates here having lost their leaders. Reykin has some interesting ideas about holding elections, allowing everyone to have an equal voice. He’s drafting an outline for his idea, which he calls “self-governing” and includes the abolishment of implanted monikers. He wants every individual to decide how to contribute to society, instead of mandating duties through a caste system. Due to Reykin’s diligence, we’ve got a multitiered plan to implement these and other much-needed reforms soon.

I’ve been preoccupied with tracking and annihilating Crow in all his iterations. It’s been several months since anyone has sighted him in the Fates. Spectrum’s universe is a little tougher to gauge. Many more anchors to other strange worlds exist inside Spectrum, and new ones are discovered now and then. It keeps all of us busy.

Roselle and I stroll together near the edge of the Round Ballroom. The white skirt of her gown brushes against the gold of mine. We greet guests in her Sword Palace. Our matching crowns and Sword broaches sparkle in the light of ornate chandeliers. We’ve just returned from putting my son, Dune, and her daughter, Flannigan, to bed in the nursery. It’s still amusing to see people stare at us. They treat us like twins, which is taboo enough where we come from, and no one but our husbands really grasps that we were the same person for the first two decades of our lives. She has all my memories, except for the ones of Reykin and the others that are solely mine from after our split. People have taken to calling her Rose, to cut down on the confusion, but I still call her Roselle. It’s not confusing for me, or her.

“Where’s Cherno?” I ask her.

“He asked me to give you his regards,” she says. “He’s traveling off-world, to the universe with the dragons. He said something about searching for Crow. I told him that we’ve cleared that world, but he wanted to make sure.”

“Hmmm.” I smile, thinking about Cherno’s history as a full-blooded dragon, but I keep it to myself. I’m glad I gave him a key. Maybe he can find peace with his past.

Reykin and Hawthorne join us, both men looking handsome in their formal Fated Sword uniforms. It’s strange, but I’m all broad grin and giggles when Reykin wraps his arms around me from behind and nuzzles my throat, sending a thrill of pleasure through me.

“What plans are you two Swords hatching?” Reykin demands with a gentle growl.

“I was just about to ask your wife where Clifton has gotten to,” Roselle says, and grins at Reykin while Hawthorne slings his arm around her shoulders.