She laid her cheek on his heart. Love, she thought, given freely, taken willingly.
There was no stronger magick.
“It’s what I want,” she murmured, then smiled when she heard Alastar bugle. “He knows I’m happy.” She tipped her head back. “Let’s go tell everybody else, and pop that champagne.”
With wine and music and light, she thought. They’d come through the fire, beaten back the dark for another day.
And now, on the longest day, when the light refused to surrender, she was loved. At last.
* * *
DEEP IN THE WOODS, IN ANOTHER TIME, THE WOLF WHIMPERED. The man inside it cursed. And with arts as black as midnight, slowly began to heal.
Carefully, began to plan.