Healing Elixir’s and Wicked Crows- bonus story

Ten Years Later

Rosemary

The morning sun bathed our cottage in hues of honey and gold, its rays streaming through the open windows, inviting the first warm breeze of spring. Over ten years, our simple home had transformed into a living fairy tale, with climbing roses framing each doorway and herb gardens flourishing in organized abundance. Childish laughter floated from the kitchen, where our four-year-old daughter was ‘helping’ Elias prepare breakfast.

"Mama!" Posey's voice rang out like silver bells, followed by the rapid patter of her small feet across wooden floors. "Papa says the honey cakes are almost ready, and Aunt Briar is coming today!"

I turned from where I'd been tending the morning glory vines that climbed our bedroom wall, my heart swelling at the sight of my daughter. Posey was a perfect blend of her parents, with my strawberry-gold hair but Elias's eyes, like churning storm clouds. She had my love of growing things but his mischievous grin. She wore a simple green dress that would undoubtedly be stained with garden soil within the hour, and her feet bare as always.

"Is she now?" I asked, scooping her into my arms and spinning her around until she giggled. "And what makes you so certain?"

"Because I dreamed about golden butterflies," she said seriously, her small face scrunched with the concentration of someone delivering important news. "They told me a queen was coming to visit."

I pressed a kiss to her forehead, marveling not for the first time at the way magic seemed to flow through our daughter as natural as breathing. At four years old, she already showed signs of inheriting both seelie and unseelie gifts, an unprecedented combination that had scholars from across the unified realm writing excited letters requesting permission to study her development.

"Well then," I said, setting her down and smoothing her wild curls, "we'd better make sure everything is perfect for Aunt Briar's visit."

Hoofbeats echoed down our lane, heralding the royal procession as Elias stepped out of the kitchen, flour dusting his dark hair and an apron tied around his waist. A decade of domestic life had only enhanced his charm. His eyes now twinkled with happiness, his shoulders had broadened from building and gardening, and contentment radiated from him like warmth from a hearth.

"Right on time," he said, pulling me close for a quick kiss that tasted of honey and promises. "I swear your sister has supernatural timing when it comes to fresh baking."

Through our front window, I watched Briar dismount her white mare with a fluid grace that carried the confidence of a woman seasoned by a decade of wise and compassionate rule over the unified courts. Her pale hair bore a simple circlet of silver and emeralds, and her riding dress was practical, reflecting a queen who chose to be among her people rather than above them.

Darius followed close behind, his darker presence a perfect complement to Briar's light. They moved together with the synchronized ease of mates who had found perfect balance in each other, and I felt a familiar warmth at seeing my sister so completely, radiantly happy.

"Aunt Briar! Uncle Darius!" Posey burst through our front door like a tiny hurricane, launching herself into Briar's waiting arms with the fearlessness of a child who had never known anything but love and safety.

"My darling girl," Briar laughed, spinning Posey around just as I had done moments before. "Look how you've grown! Soon you'll be taller than me."

Posey stood, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous pride as she recounted her father's words. "Papa says I'm getting too big for my boots," she declared, her voice carrying a hint of satisfaction. She glanced down at her wiggling toes, then shrugged with a playful confusion. "But I don't wear boots, so I don't know what he means."

Darius chuckled, ruffling Posey's hair with gentle affection. "Your papa means you're growing wise and strong, little princess. Speaking of which..." He exchanged a meaningful look with Briar. "We have a proposition for you."

I raised an eyebrow as we all moved into the cottage's main room, which had expanded over the years to accommodate our growing family and the frequent visits from students, dignitaries, and friends. "What kind of proposition?"

"The kind that involves a certain young lady coming to stay at the castle for a few days," Briar said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "We're starting a new program for gifted children, teaching them to control and channel their abilities safely. Posey would be our first student."

Posey's eyes went wide with excitement. "Really? I get to stay in the castle? Where Cook Nonnie makes the special sweet treats?"

"With sweet treats and everything," Darius confirmed. "And gardens that change with the seasons, and a library with books that read themselves, and stables full of horses that might be willing to take a certain little girl on rides if she asks politely."

Elias's hand slipped into mine, our fingers intertwining with the ease of a decade's practice. The thought of Posey being away from home, even briefly, ignited my protective instincts. Yet, I understood the wisdom in their offer. Our daughter's magic was strong enough to require proper guidance, and who better to provide it than the rulers of the unified realm?

"What do you think, love?" Elias asked quietly, his voice pitched for my ears alone. "She'd be safe with them, and it might be good for her to see more of the world than just our cottage and gardens."

"I want to go, Mama," Posey said, her small hands clasped together in unconscious mimicry of a formal petition. "I promise I'll be good and eat all my vegetables and not put frogs in anyone's bed."

"You put frogs in people's beds?" Briar asked with delighted surprise.

"Only Papa's," Posey admitted. "And only because he said frogs were slimy when they're actually quite soft if you pet them properly."

The adults exchanged amused glances, and my last reservations crumbled in the face of my daughter's obvious excitement and my sister's genuine affection for her niece.

"All right," I said, and I was immediately tackled by an enthusiastic four year old. "But only for three days, and you must promise to mind your aunt and uncle."

"I promise, I promise, I promise!" Posey chanted, bouncing on her toes with excitement.

The next hour passed in a flurry of packing and last-minute instructions, though Briar assured me repeatedly that the castle was fully equipped for a young guest. As the royal party prepared to depart with their precious cargo, I felt the familiar bittersweet ache of watching my child take another step toward independence.

"She'll be fine," Briar said softly, embracing me as Darius helped Posey into the special child's saddle they'd brought. "More than fine; she'll be extraordinary. Just like her mother."

"Just don't let her talk you into letting her sleep in the stables," I warned. "She's been fascinated by horses lately, and I wouldn't put it past her to try."

"Noted," Darius said with a grin. "Though I make no promises about the library. If she's anything like her aunt, she'll want to read every book we have."

As they rode away, Posey's delighted laughter floating back on the spring breeze, Elias's arms circled my waist from behind. For a moment we stood in comfortable silence, watching until the procession disappeared around the bend in our lane.

"So," he murmured against my ear, his breath warm and familiar, "what should we do with three whole days to ourselves?"

I turned in his arms, struck suddenly by how rare such moments of complete solitude had become since Posey's birth. Much as I adored our daughter, there was something to be said for the luxury of uninterrupted time with my mate.

"I have a few ideas," I said, reaching up to brush flour from his hair. "Starting with finishing those honey cakes you abandoned in the kitchen."

"The honey cakes can wait," he said, his voice dropping to that husky tone that still made my pulse quicken after all these years. "I have better ideas for how to spend our first morning of freedom."

He swept me into his arms with the same easy strength that he had exhibited all those years ago when I’d fallen ankle-first out of a tree, carrying me toward our bedroom while I laughed and protested halfheartedly about the propriety of such behavior in broad daylight.

“The neighbors will see,” I murmured, though our nearest human habitation lay miles away and the warding runes around our home shimmered with silent assurance of privacy.

“Let them,” Elias said, his voice low and steady as he kicked the door closed. “Let the whole world know I’m hopelessly, desperately, utterly in love with you.”

He guided me to the bed, and for a long moment, we drank each other in without words. Ten years of marriage and of the joys and trials of parenthood had altered us both. Motherhood had smoothed some of my sharper edges while hardening the core of who I’d become; fatherhood had awakened in Elias a gentle protectiveness that had softened his fierce spirit. Yet the magnetic pull that first drew us together in that moonlit courtyard when we were but children still hummed between us.

“I love you,” I whispered, each word heavy with a decade’s worth of laughter and tears, triumphs and defeats. “I love the man you were when we met and the man you are now. I love watching you teach our daughter to whittle horses, and how you bring me fresh blooms from the garden each sunrise.” 

His broad palms pressed into my cheeks, thumbs tracing the delicate creases carved by years and joy at the corners of my eyes. “And I love you,” he breathed, voice husky with feeling. “I love that you wrestle with stubborn ivy, and that you weep when a student achieves the impossible. I love that you chose this life, chose me, over duty and convenience.” 

Slowly, his mouth sought mine, lips feather-soft at first, as if tasting a memory. My pulse fluttered and desire stirred in the hollow of my belly. He deepened the kiss, tongues brushing in a slow dance of exploration, each caress kindling a brighter heat within me. His hands slid down from my face to my shoulders, then over the gentle swell of my breasts. Fingertips brushed my taut nipples through the linen of my shift, coaxing a hard peak that ached for his mouth. 

I arched into him, offering more of myself, and he obeyed, slipping one hand beneath the hem of my skirt. His palm swept over the softness of my hip, then traveled upward to cup me, boldly, reverently, discovering the slick warmth that had gathered between my thighs. A shiver cascaded through me as his thumb found the tender nub of my clitoris, circling it in slow, deliberate strokes until I gasped against his lips. 

Threading my fingers through his dark hair, I tugged him closer, heart thunderous. My other hand brushed over the hard planes of his chest, sliding lower to the waistband of his trousers. With a gentle groan, he rolled to one side, freeing his hips, and I sank down onto him in one smooth motion, guiding the length of him to my entrance. Heat and hardness filled me, each inch a delicious stretch, and I rode him, hips lifting to draw him deeper, pressing my breasts against his collarbone, our breaths ragged hymns in the morning light. 

When his lips closed over my nipple, flicking and sucking with expert hunger, I nearly shattered. My body quivered atop him, every nerve alive to exquisite tension. He held me there, softly sucking, even as one hand coaxed me to deeper pleasure, the other braced on the mattress beside us. Then, without pause, he slid back inside in a single slow, perfect stroke. 

I gasped, clinging to him as he filled me wholly. He began to rock, first in gentle, deliberate motions, then with mounting urgency. Each thrust sent sparks through my flesh, the press of his chest against mine and the slick friction within driving me toward release. I wrapped my legs around his waist, urging him faster, tilting my hips to meet the rhythm of his body. 

The room filled with the soft rustle of linen and our mingled moans. His golden gaze never wavered from mine; we spoke only in breathless sighs and the silent communion of shared bliss. With my fingers entwined in his hair, I led his lips to mine for fleeting kisses amidst our intense desire, savoring the mix of salt and longing.

When the tremors overtook us, we collapsed together with him still inside me, both of us trembling as a wave of release rolled through our bodies. I clung to him, nails grazing the strong curve of his back, as life’s fierce echo pulsed in our veins. Finally spent, we lay entwined, foreheads pressed together, the aftershocks ebbing like a whispered prayer. 

Later, wrapped in lavender-scented sheets, I nestled against his chest. My fingers traced lazy loops along the fine line of his collarbone, following the dark lines of his tattoos while his hand worked through my hair. We drifted in peaceful wakefulness, two souls still discovering one another, even after all these years. 

“Do you ever regret it?” I asked softly, voice muffled against his skin. “Giving up your title, your place in the great tapestry of history for this quiet life?”

"Never," he said without hesitation. "I found something here that no throne could give me. Peace. Purpose. A love so deep it still takes my breath away." He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "This cottage, this garden, this life we've built with our own hands... this is my kingdom. You and Posey are my crown jewels."

"Even when I wake you up at dawn to help with the difficult births in the goat pen?" I teased.

"Especially then," he confirmed with a laugh. "Though I draw the line at helping deliver fairy horses. Last time one of them bit me."

"That's because you kept calling him a pony," I reminded him. "Fairy horses are very particular about proper terminology."

We dissolved into familiar laughter born from years of shared inside jokes and joyful memories. Outside, the garden settled into its daily rhythm. Bees hummed among flowers, birds called from the fruit trees, and in the distance, our students busied themselves at the expanded healing center serving the entire unified realm.

It wasn't the life either of us had been born to expect, but it was the life we had chosen. And in choosing it, we had found something rarer than any crown: perfect, simple, enduring happiness.

The End