Epilogue
October 2047 - San Francisco, The Elvish Protectorate
Cal would never like publicity.He didn’t care for nosy people trying to track him down, or the throngs of folks who, for some time after The Shrouded City’s publication, gathered on the beaches to try and catch a glimpse of him. He hadn’t changed his mind about his anonymity, nor his general dislike for most people.
It was a strange thing, knowing that so many strangers read his story and felt, to no small degree, as though they knew him. He couldn’t say he was really a fan of that.
What made it all worth it, though, was the absolute certainty he had in his claim on Elise. While he didn’t enjoy the fresh scrutiny the book brought him, Cal pushed his mate to publish it on the grounds that it would show the entire world that they belonged to one another.
Not that they needed it, really, but Cal erred on the side of caution. He didn’t feel he deserved his mate’s devotion, but he was a jealous creature. If he was lucky enough to call her his, then he wanted every single being in the world to know about it.
Cal didn’t have much experience in gauging the success or failure of books, but even he knew the furor around The Shrouded City was abnormal. The thing had only been out for a month, but it was all anyone wanted to talk about.
When he drifted past bookshop windows, he saw piles of it stacked waist-high. When a news feed alert came in on Elise’s Met, it was almost always something about the book. When he was home with her, he listened to call after call, interview after interview, and made absolutely certain he was nowhere near a camera.
The only reviews and articles he cared about were the ones that gushed over their whirlwind love story — a turn of phrase that tickled Elise immensely. Everything else he ignored. Cal didn’t care about the money that came in, or the upswell in public affection for him. When Kaz tried to coerce him into meeting with the Solbourne PR team, a group particularly interested in the chapters dedicated to his imprisonment and how they reflected on the current regime, he promptly dematerialized.
Cal didn’t care about anything other than the public’s recognition of his relationship. If Elise got acclaim for the book on top of that, then he was perfectly content to ignore the garbage that came with being suddenly beloved by millions of people.
“What put that scowl on your face?” Elise asked as soon as he materialized in their living room. She was curled up on the couch, a throw blanket tossed over her legs and her tablet clutched in one hand. There was a small, stemless glass of red wine in the other.
Cal closed the window with a flick of his fingers before he prowled over to his mate. When he left her in the afternoon, she’d been dolled up for a video interview, but now she was relaxed, her face clean and her thick blonde hair piled into a wispy bun. Bare toes peeked out from under the blanket.
Feeling his tension ease at the sight of her, relaxed and waiting for him, Cal grumbled, “They brought signs this time.”
Elise snorted. Her eyes glittered with humor at his expense. “You have to tell me what they said!”
“No, I do not,” he tartly replied, making his way over to the couch. Elise laughed and scooted to the far end, making plenty of room for him to lay down and put his head in her lap.
He still couldn’t sleep, but he had grown very fond of lounging, so they upgraded their furniture. The two-seater couch changed to a behemoth that took up most of their living room, while their bed went from a queen to a California king. Cal was what Elise playfully called “a sprawler”.
Not that she truly seemed to mind, of course. His mate was always ready to receive him with open arms. When he returned from his vigil, she enjoyed hearing about all that he’d done and seen in the city, while he hungrily devoured any new tidbit she offered him — how her day was, what she wrote, what strange thing had captured her formidable interest that day.
Always, she made sure to offer him contact. Rarely more than a moment went by when she was not stroking his hair or curled under his arm. Even when she cooked, Elise would make a point to brush her fingers over his skin whenever she drifted by him. Never once did she forget that he was once starved for affection, and every moment of every day she sought to shower him with it.
In return, he basked in her glow and did everything he could to encourage her rampant curiosity. Together, they explored every corner of the city and its archives. He plucked the juiciest bits from his long memory for her and hovered nearby whenever she lost herself in writing. He loved her and he was in awe of her. Cal saw it as his job to remind her just how extraordinary she was every day, lest she forget.
“Where were they this time?” she asked, setting her wine down on the edge of the small coffee table. A stack of battered notebooks took up most of the space. With her hand free, she gently nudged him until he lay in the perfect position for her to run her fingers through his long, unruly hair.
Cal closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of her blunt nails scraping gently against his scalp, and cupped her kneecap with one possessive hand. There was a small flare of magic as his fog seeped into the air, wrapping with equal possessiveness around the rest of her.
He could hardly fathom the life he lived before her, before this. Really, it didn’t seem like much of a life at all.
“They were on the bridge,” he complained. “About forty people, all of them waving signs. What in the world did they expect me to do with that? Stop to take photos?”
“Maybe they just wanted to let you know they appreciate everything you do for the city, baby.”
“Yeah, well, they could be quieter about it,” he grumbled.
“Poor fog man,” she cooed, patting his head. “It’s so hard being beloved, isn’t it?”
Cal hid his smile in the blanket covering her thigh. Giving her knee a quick squeeze, he said, “Hush. This is all your fault.”
“My fault? I’ll remind you that I was the one who said we shouldn’t publish the book.” It was her turn to give his ear a tiny pinch. “You were the one who pushed, remember?”
“Yes, because I wanted everyone to know how much you loved me,” he smugly replied. Turning his head, he looked up and found her grinning down at him, the skin around her hazel eyes crinkling. Cal lifted a hand to stroke the freckles on her cheek, a sigh of contentment on his lips. “Read that part to me again,” he playfully demanded. “You know the one.”
Elise blushed, as she always did when he asked her to read to him. “Didn’t we just read that bit last night?”
“Yes. I want to hear it again.”
It didn’t matter that he’d read the book a dozen times, nor that she read excerpts from it whenever he asked her to. Cal would never get tired of seeing the words, hearing them. And for all that Elise blushed and grumbled, he saw the smile that tugged her full lips up and knew that she enjoyed it as much as he did.
“Fine,” she sighed, using her thumb to scroll through the files on her tablet. When she found the right one, she settled her free hand on his brow and began, “He is Calamity. He is a force of nature more powerful and vast than our government would comfortably admit. He is all-consuming. He is an act of godly wrath made flesh, and by some miracle, he has chosen to be kind to us.”
Cal closed his eyes. His chest felt too small to hold in everything he felt for her, how grateful he was to be hers. All he could do was wrap his arms around her middle, holding her tight, in the vain hope that it could express even some small amount of his love for her.
Elise’s voice was soft and sure when she continued, “He is Calamity. He is mine. The first time Cal kissed me, I knew it like I knew my magic, my heart, my hands. The kind of knowing that is instinctive and soulful even when it is new and terrifying.” She caressed his cheek with the backs of her fingers, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He is mine and I am his. Forever.”
THE END