Page 28 of Garlands and Gauntlets

…and screwing his brains out.

It’s going to be grand.

“What’s the plan then?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“We start with the Dragonsteel Mountains, of course,” he says. “Then, maybe down south to follow the trail. I just…I don’t know. I have this feeling he’s alive somewhere.”

I nod and smile, reaching out to take his hand. “Sounds like a start.”

He grins, bashful and blushing. “I can’t believe you’re coming with me.”

I roll my eyes. “Theo, of course I’m coming with you. If I don’t, you’ll probably drop all your cash on charity in the first day.”

“Remember, I don’t have any cash?”

“Case in point.”

He laughs, the sound rumbling through the crisp morning air, and it’s the best Yuletide gift I could have asked for. The path winds before us, adventure is calling…

…and I get to spend the whole journey getting to know my best friend.

Epilogue

Vaelin

One Year Later

It’s winter once again, and we’re finally heading back to Hearthwynd.

Snow falls in a gentle hush over the clearing, covering the world in a fresh, soft blanket of white. The smell of roasting meat and spiced cider lingers in the crisp air, carried by the faint sound of Theo’s deep, easy laughter. Lanterns hang from the low branches of the surrounding pines, their warm glow flickering against the snowy backdrop like the memory of hearthfires left behind.

We’ve made this clearing ours for the evening, anticipating the holiday cheer that I’m sure will be waiting for us at my parents’ bakery.

I glance over at Theo, who’s crouched near the fire, his hands deftly adjusting the skewers of vegetables and meat that he insists are “perfectly balanced for even cooking.” His braided beard catches the snowflakes that tumble down from the canopy above, the tiny droplets disappearing almost instantly against his warm skin. He doesn’t let me touch the cooking–that’s firmly his purview.

He looks radiant. Happy in a way that makes me want to memorize the sight of him like this—alive, free,mine.

“How’s it coming?” I ask, stepping closer to the fire and slipping my hands into my pockets.

“Almost ready,” he replies, glancing up at me with a grin that could light the darkest dungeon. “But you’re on cider duty. I’m not burning my fingers again.”

I snort, crouching down beside him. “You’re supposed to be the one with the brute strength, remember?”

“Brute strength doesn’t make boiling water less hot, Vaelin,” he says, deadpan.

I roll my eyes, but I can’t hide the grin tugging at my lips.

He’s actually starting togethumor.

It’s been a year since that morning in the snow, the morning we left Hearthwynd behind and set out into the unknown together. A year of late nights under unfamiliar stars, of stolen kisses by campfires, of fights and triumphs and moments where we weren’t sure we’d make it.

We’ve faced more than I ever thought we could handle. Bandits, beasts, and yes–the answers Theo was so desperate to find.

Torin the Terrible turned out to be very real—and not nearly as terrible as the stories made him out to be. An orcish warlord turned healer in a quiet village far south of here, Torin welcomed Theo with open arms, offering the kind of warmth and acceptance Theo had long given up hoping for.

And through it all, we’ve found something even more remarkable.

Us.

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