Epilogue

The grand ballroom of the Lycan Kingdom was wall-to-wall with every noble, dignitary, and hanger-on that the new alliance could scrape from the edges of the world.

I stood at the center of it all, holding my six-month-old daughter in my arms. Lyra was heavier than she looked, which was saying something, because she was already the size of a small badger and nearly as feral when she wanted to be. She slept now, jaw slack, a little bubble of drool catching the light on her lower lip.

Darren’s hand was glued to my waist, fingers splayed like he was afraid I’d be snatched away. Not that I minded. Honestly, it was better he was close, so I could keep the ogling eyes from staring at him. He looked better than he had any right to. Unlike me, who had these milk jugs attached to my chest where my perky breasts used to be.

I let my gaze drift over the crowd, picking out faces I recognized and cataloging their reactions to the baby. Most were polite, some envious, a few openly terrified. Lyra di