Page 87 of The Fated and the Damned
When it was obvious magic wasn’t about to start eviscerating everyone I loved, my breathing calmed and I gave Dante a grateful look.
“Rise,” Erika said, “Dante Sándor, Lord of Mistvellen. Rise, Kitarni Sándor, Lady of Mistvellen and High Witch of the Green Coven. Long may you reign.”
“Hail, Dante, Lord of Mistvellen! Hail, Kitarni, Lady of Mistvellen!”
Dante and I stood and my heart swelled to see the genuine excitement of the gathered crowd—to see my family speak those words, my friends, and my coven. My life as that lonely girl in a village where no one wanted her seemed far away as Dante led me out of the hall and towards the large balcony overlooking the city.
We looked over the streets lined with citizens below—táltosok and witch and other creatures besides—and a sense of pride filled me as I looked at what we’d already achieved.
Unity. Together, and for all our people.
There would be repercussions for what I’d done to the humans, but that was a problem for another day. Dante and I had a long reign ahead of us, no doubt wrought with many complications to come. But, for now, I would enjoy this moment of peace.
Once, I’d longed to explore the world and experience all life had to offer. I’d longed for a home—somewhere I belonged.
I looked at Dante beside me, my heart singing with the smile he gave me, the endearment shining brighter than the sun in those brown eyes. And I realised I didn’t need anything more than the little circle I’d made, surrounded by family.
I didn’t need to sail the seas or climb the highest mountain, because my home was in Dante, András and Margit, Eszter and Lukasz, Erika and all the other souls who made life worth living.
And the world?
Mine was already by my side, dressed in black, wearing a coy smile and flashing me two damn dimples that could make butter melt.
He was only the beginning, but for the first time I had faith that we could write our own endings.
Hand in hand, soul by soul, and one bejgli after another.
