Page 73 of Zachary

“Thank you.” Her apology means more to me than I expected it to. She was still wrong to handle things the way she did, but having her acknowledge that makes a difference. “In future, ifyou have concerns about my life or anyone else’s, you should discuss that with us instead of making unilateral decisions.”

Her eyes narrow. I may have pushed things too far, but I hold her gaze, and she grudgingly nods. Then she turns her attention to Ronan. “If you truly mean to settle here, I believe you may be interested in the knowledge that several of our councilors are planning to retire next year. I’ve already spoken to Garrett.”

I’m still reeling from the implication that she wants Ronan on the village council when she stands and says, “I’ll take that cinnamon roll now and see you both at dinner tonight.”

EPILOGUE

Ronan

THREE YEARS LATER

Fireworks explodeoverhead in the shape of a green dragon, and I grin. Zac’s really gone all out this year. The dragon even kind of looks like me.

He slings an arm over my shoulders. “Happy Birthday, my dragon.”

Taking my eyes off the sky for a second, I kiss him. “Thank you. For everything.” It would take me a month to list off exactly what’s included in that “everything,” but it starts with the incredible birthday party he’s thrown me and finishes with the way he loves me.

“You’re worth everything.” He leans his head against mine, and for a few minutes, we stand in our own little bubble, watching the stunning light show.

Then Zac straightens. “What— No, Alistair! What did I say about the glitter cannon? It’s forafterthe fireworks.” His arm drops from my shoulders, and he disappears into the crowd to deal with our annoying but loveable cousin-by-proxy. That titlewas Alistair’s idea, and we eventually gave in just to stop the constant messages about it.

The space beside me is filled a moment later by someone my magic immediately recognizes, and I shoot my brother a smile. He’s looking a little less on edge than I expected, given the size of the crowd.

“Thanks for coming,” I tell him.

He makes a noncommittal sound. “It’s your birthday, and it’s important to you.” Glancing around, he begrudgingly adds, “I like it here.”

I laugh. “Me too.”

“Are you coming to visit this summer?”

“Hmm.” I shrug. “For a couple of weeks, sure. I don’t know when yet, though. Even though it’s the off-season, it’s already looking busier than we expected.” The ski resort opened exactly as we planned, and just like Zoe said, was an instant hit. The first winter, before everything was completely up and running, we were mostly hosting the academics who’d come to see the vault and its contents. Garrett and I were run off our feet giving tours and supervising private visits, but the word of what we’d found spread really fast, even before the combined governments began promoting it. Before the winter ended, Garrett was recruiting people to work in the museum. We eventually decided to build a custom facility just outside the village to properly house all the historic treasures, and had replicas made to showcase in the vault. That allows us to split crowds in half and show them one place at a time.

Between the academic groups who desperately want to study everything and the families who like to ooh and aah over howoldeverything is and howamazingthe vault door is before they hit the ski slopes, the past two winters have changed everything.

Garrett managed to hire a whole team of elves with the ability to operate portals. We were so hung up on our concernthat those people primarily worked for the government that we overlooked a key factor—now that the elves are settled on Earth, where there isn’t the constant threat of destruction, the government has less need for portals. The DEA, with the approval of Brandt and the elf king, was very happy to introduce a new transition-to-retirement program, whereby portal-capable elves could volunteer to be seconded to work in Hortplatz for a year. If they decide they like it, they can officially retire from the DEA and be hired by the village council or the museum on a permanent basis. If they hate it, they transfer out of the program after a year. The best part for us is, that first year is paid for by the DEA as part of their financial obligation to the museum. Both governments decided to leave all the items found in the vault in the museum, which is funded jointly by them and Hortplatz.

So now the village has regular, instant transportation to and from Zurich. Technically the elves can open the portals anywhere, but we decided early on that we didn’t want a confusing free-for-all. Just like trains, buses, and planes, transport into Hortplatz runs on a schedule and a ticket is required—and proof of accommodation. The last thing we need is idiot tourists deciding to take a chance that they can find something when they get here and then freezing in the street because they can’t.

When I say “we,” I’m referring to the Hortplatz village council, of which I’m a member. If I want what’s best for this community, I need to be a decision-making voice. Garrett declined Damaris’s not-so-subtle prodding at first, but then last year another seat opened up, and I railroaded him into it. None of the Bailey cousins are that interested in local government—they prefer to look after the village in other ways. So I figure Garrett and I can be the next generation of politicians in the family. Damaris approves.

“I’m glad you’ve found your place,” Steffen says. “You’re happy.”

“You are too. It’s good that we get that.”

He holds my gaze, his face so like mine, and a hint of a smile curls his mouth. “We win.”

We do. Éibhear can’t hurt us anymore. I can even use his name now without mentally flinching.

“It warms me inside to see you both like this,” a familiar voice declares, and in unison Steffen and I turn as Brandt approaches us. He’s weaving a little.

“Did you take a drink from Alistair?” Steffen demands.

Brandt hiccups. “Not just one! That hellhound has a real gift for parties. The booze has glitter in it!”

“I told you not to drink that,” my brother gripes. “Who knows what his brewer puts in it?”

“Plus, it’s alcoholic enough to take you down in dragon form,” I add. I know because the last time Alistair came to visit, he brought some with him, and he, Garrett, Zoe, Cam, and I had a middle-of-the-night trial run to see if it would actually affect me in dragon form. After five drinks, I couldn’t even see straight enough to launch, much less fly. I changed back into biped form and lay in the snow, giggling with my friends until Zac came to carry me home.

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