chapter 30, Epilogue The Richest Kind of Forever

Five years. It feels both like a heartbeat and a lifetime.

The palace has changed since that day—the day gold banners were no longer draped for war, but for love. I still wake some mornings expecting to hear the clatter of armor or Seraphine’s sharp voice echoing through the marble halls, only to find the sound replaced by laughter. Mira’s laughter.

The little girl who once shivered under a curse now runs through the corridors with ribbons in her hair and a wooden sword in her hand. She’s still far too mischievous for a princess, but Aldric insists it’s good training for a future queen.

And Brenno, of course, is her loyal opponent.

From the terrace, I watch them now. Brenno pretends to stagger dramatically after every one of Mira’s clumsy punches, collapsing to the floor with a theatrical groan.

“Mercy!” he cries. “The princess has defeated me again!”

Mira beams. “That’s because you’re old!”

Brenno clutches his chest in mock pain. “Old? Liora, did you hear that? The royal brat wounds me deeper than any sword!”

From the archway, Liora laughs, crossing her arms. Her golden curls are pinned up today, though a few strands have escaped—just enough to remind me she’ll never lose her spark. “If the shoe fits, dear husband,” she teases.

Brenno grins from the floor, looking very much in love. “I’ve fought ogres with kinder tongues.”

“And I married one,” she fires back, earning another round of laughter from everyone—including Aldric, who stands beside me, shaking his head.

“Every day feels louder,” he says softly, “but I wouldn’t trade a single noise for all the gold in the kingdom.”

I smile, my heart swelling as I glance at him. Time has touched him gently. There are faint lines at the corners of his eyes now, and his hair is longer, streaked with the faintest silver. But to me, he’s still the man who once risked everything for truth—and for us.

I lace my fingers through his. “Nor would I.”

He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “You used to flinch every time you heard your name in the court. Now they bow to it.”

“I still flinch,” I admit, laughing softly. “Just… not in fear anymore.”

We walk together through the gardens, where the roses are finally blooming after a long winter. Liora’s touch is everywhere—she tends to them with the same magic she once used to spin silk out of air.

She and Brenno married a year after us. The wedding was far less chaotic than ours—though, according to Brenno, he would’ve gladly dueled an army again if it meant she’d say yes. They don’t have children, but they never seem lonely. She still serves as mistress of the palace, and he as captain of the guard. Together, they are unstoppable—a pair of legends walking the same halls that nearly destroyed us all.

Ysabet visits when she can. She’s always on the road now, building clinics, trading potions, chasing new knowledge in faraway towns. When she comes by, she hugs Mira so tight it looks painful and cries every single time.

“She’s grown a whole inch since last week!” Ysabet exclaimed the last time, though we all knew she’d seen Mira three days prior.

Mira only giggled. “You’re dramatic, Aunt Ysabet.”

The healer smiled through tears. “You have no idea who you take after, little one.”

***

Later that afternoon, I sit by the window in our chambers, embroidery in hand. I still sew when I can—it soothes me. There’s a strange peace in the rhythm of the needle, the soft whisper of fabric between fingers. Sometimes I make dresses for the palace maids, sometimes blankets for the villages. Aldric calls it “a queen’s rebellion”—that I’d rather stitch than reign.

But he doesn’t understand. Sewing reminds me where I came from, who I was before the crown, before all of it. It’s my reminder that being queen never made me rich. Love did.

“Thinking again?” Aldric’s voice teases from the doorway.

I glance up to see him leaning against the frame, sleeves rolled, crown forgotten on his desk. “Always,” I reply.

He crosses the room, slow and deliberate, like he’s done a thousand times. “Do I dare ask what about this time?”

I smirk. “The usual. How a seamstress ended up married to a king.”

He bends down, kisses my temple, and murmurs against my ear, “By stealing his ring and his heart.”

I laugh. “I didn’t steal your heart. You gave it willingly.”

“Did I?” He lifts my chin with a finger. “I seem to recall you taking it without permission.”

Before I can answer, the door bursts open.

“Mom! Dad!”

Mira rushes in, breathless, hair wild from the wind. “Brenno said he’d teach me how to throw a dagger, but Liora said you’d be mad!”

Aldric raises a brow. “Liora’s right.”

Mira pouts. “But—”

He lifts a hand. “No daggers. Not until you can lift one without tripping.”

Mira crosses her arms dramatically. “That’ll take forever.”

“Then I suppose forever will be very entertaining,” Aldric says with mock seriousness, ruffling her hair.

I laugh, and Mira scowls at both of us—until Aldric scoops her into his arms, spinning her around. Her shrieks of joy fill the room, bouncing off the high ceilings.

When he sets her down, she grins up at us both. “You two are always laughing.”

Aldric kneels to her height. “That’s because laughter is what keeps the world bright, little one.”

She tilts her head. “Even when it’s dark?”

“Especially when it’s dark.”

Her eyes soften, and for a moment, I see the faintest shadow of the girl she used to be—the one who fought fever and fear with all the strength her small heart could hold. Then she beams again. “Then I’ll laugh forever!”

“Good,” Aldric says, smiling. “That’s an order, Princess Mira.”

***

Night falls gently over the kingdom.

The court quiets, the torches dim, and the stars begin their endless dance above the towers. I sit by the balcony, looking out across the horizon—the same horizon my father used to tell me stories about.

Aldric joins me, his arm wrapping around my waist. “You’re quiet,” he says.

“I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

I smile faintly. “About him. My father. I wonder if he knows.”

Aldric squeezes my hand. “If he could see you now, he’d know you’re richer than any royal treasury.”

I nod, my eyes tracing the constellations that stretch above us. “He told me once that as long as we have each other, we’ll always be rich. I didn’t understand then. I thought he meant gold, silk, bread.”

“And now?” Aldric asks softly.

I rest my head on his shoulder. “Now I know he meant this. You, Mira, the laughter, the peace after chaos. Repetition isn’t a curse—it’s a gift. You never get tired of what you love.”

He kisses my forehead, whispering, “Then may we repeat this life forever.”

Below, Mira’s laughter rings out again as Brenno pretends to fall dramatically in the courtyard. Liora scolds him between giggles, and Ysabet, visiting once more, shakes her head fondly.

The palace is alive again. I close my eyes and let the sound wash over me.

For the first time in my life, I am certain—I will be rich forever.

Not because I wear a crown. But because I finally understand what it means to have everything worth loving within arm’s reach.