We've come to the final regular chapter. It's been a winding road to get to this point, and this story wouldn't be what it is without the help of some very special ladies. Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember, I like to fiddle—and BOY did I fiddle with this one—so all mistakes are mine.

Previously ...

As more voices and the familiar sounds of clashing steel can be heard coming from outside the room, I crawl toward them, praying it is more of Galon's soldiers. And as quickly as the group of soldiers turn the corner, I am wrenched from the floor and spun around, held to Jacob Black's chest, his blade now poised at my throat.

Chapter 29

I am too terrified to move—to even breathe—as I stand stock-still in Jacob's too-tight clutches, and yet, a strangled gasp leaves me when Edward and his men pour into the room. Swinging their blood-stained swords, there is no hesitance as they cut down the men nearest the door.

Seeing some of his men fall and others step forward to fight, Jacob pulls me backward, farther into the dark shadows of the throne room. The movement catches the eye of my husband, and when his gaze falls on me—then on the man holding a blade to my throat—it is filled with a murderous fury the likes of which I've never seen.

Edward charges toward us, his sword slicing through any standing in his way. As one of the Rheman soldiers raises his own weapon, my husband strikes first, bringing his blade down so forcefully, it nearly cuts the man in half. Blood sprays from the wound, much of it landing on Edward, but he does not stop. Turning to the next man to approach, Edward drives his blade through the man's stomach, rendering him motionless. With gritted teeth and an angry grunt, my husband raises his booted foot and kicks, pulling his bloodied blade from the man. More blood spills onto the floor as the nameless soldier falls to his knees, finally collapsing at Edward's feet. As his men take on the rest, he turns his attention to me and my captor, stalking toward us.

"Do not come any closer! I will not hesitate to slit her throat," Jacob threatens. His rapid breaths are loud in my ear as he holds me more tightly to him. Jacob's head rapidly turns from side to side, likely realizing that he and his remaining men are outnumbered.

Edward's movements cease. His men also come to a halt, lowering their swords as a few more of the Rheman guards fall. My pleading eyes meet those of my husband. They are wild, frantic as he looks me over. He and his men stand with their faces and bodies covered in blood and sweat and mud, their chests heaving.

Edward takes one careful step toward me, his gaze flashing to Jacob.

Jacob once again shouts, "I said stop!"

"You have my wife," Edward growls as he nears, his jaw tight and his eyes narrowing. "I told you I would kill you, Black, and here you are, giving me even more of a reason to gut you like the filthy animal you are." Edward slowly stalks closer to us, his eyes only flashing to mine before returning to Jacob.

"And how do you propose to do that? Once again, I am the one with the advantage. Seems all too familiar, does it not, Your Highness? Only this time it is not you who is within my grasp but your useless prize." He shakes me with the hand not holding his sword, causing the edge of his blade to cut into the delicate skin of my neck. A warm trail trickles from the cut, stopping only as it reaches the top of my dress. "Tell me where your coward of a father is hiding and perhaps I will not slit her throat!" Jacob's voice booms across the room.

"Threatening my wife will not grant you an audience with the king, Black."

"I beg to differ. If she is so valued, so esteemed in your eyes, surely her life is enough with which to barter. But if you do not feel she is worth it, then perhaps we will see which pieces of her I can remove before you deem her completely unworthy of even being your wife."

"You will not harm so much as a hair upon her head, Black." Edward's tone is forceful, but there is a desperate edge to his words as he moves closer. My heart pounds violently as he nears. I am torn between yearning for the safety of his arms and fearing for his life if he were to engage the monster holding me. "And the only one removing anything will be me," Edward continues. "I'll be the one to remove your head from your body, removing your black soul from this plane of existence."

Jacob chuckles darkly in my ear. "Oh, I have my doubts I will leave this room alive, but the question is"—he presses the edge of his blade against my throat with intent—"will she?"

Edward grips the hilt of his sword more tightly, his eyes never leaving Jacob, and panic swells inside me. It is only a matter of time before one of them makes a move. My hands move to my skirts, holding onto them as if they will keep me tethered in place. As I do, the pointed, stiff object hidden in my pocket reveals itself. I grasp the bolt through the fabric as Jacob continues to speak. When his sword nicks at my skin once more, I grip the short arrow tighter still and force it back into his thigh with every bit of strength I have. He stumbles back, caught off guard by the sudden pain he must be feeling, and with the bolt still tangled in my skirts, I am pulled down with him. With all the determination I possess, I pull at my skirts until the shaft of the bolt tears through the layers of fabric, leaving me free to scurry away from Jacob.

It is all the opportunity Edward and his men need.

He raises his sword, and in the blink of an eye, the room explodes in a whirl. Blades and maces fly through the air as Edward's men attack and the Rheman soldiers try to defend themselves. As Peter charges toward the portly soldier who ran a blade through my beloved friend, Rosalie seizes her own opportunity. Crawling on her hands and knees, she moves with purpose toward the men locked in battle, stopping only to pull the sword from the hand of a fallen man. Staggering to her feet, she grips the handle of the blade with both hands and waits. When the Rheman soldier turns and catches sight of her, Rosalie draws back her blade. With a battle cry of her own—full of grief and pain and despair— she plunges it into the man's chest, straight through his heart. She stumbles back and once again falls to her knees, giving Peter the opening he needs to run the man through.

Edward brings his own sword back, swinging it wide and sure, slicing through Jacob's arm before he can raise his own weapon. Blood pours from the wound, and yet Jacob still fights. With grunts and groans, both men struggle, one for his victory and the other for his life.

With another swing of his sword, Edwards cuts through Jacob's middle, gutting him as he promised. The cries of the dying echo against the stone walls and the sight of all the men who have fallen prove to be too much. Overwhelmed by the bloodshed surrounding me, I squeeze my eyes shut tightly. The stench of death invades my nostrils, and I swallow down the bile creeping up my throat.

Despite hearing the screams of my friend and sister, I cannot open my eyes to see for myself if they are well. Their cries are hollow in my ears, distorted and distant, although I know they are nearby. Frozen where I am, I cannot help them, cannot comfort them, I can only pray they are unharmed.

I hear a muted thump before a clanging of steel against the stone floor next to me. The jarring sounds break through the haze of my mind, bringing me back to full awareness. I look up and find my husband staring down at me, and his eyes are filled with sorrow and pain. He falls to his knees, and I scramble to his side, wrapping my arms around him, and he embraces me in return.

"Are you well?" he asks, wiping the trickle of blood from my neck and frantically searching the rest of my body for injuries. When his hands move over my obviously smaller midsection, his eyes widen. "The child? Where is—"

"With your mother and Angela." I sniffle and wipe at my eyes. "I believe they were all taken to the dungeons." I shake my head, looking around the room. My eyes fall on Jacob Black's headless body. "It was a blessing they were not here to see all this." My gaze shifts to Emmett's still form, his weeping wife hovering over him, and more tears stream down my cheeks.

"I am so sorry, Isabella. He was supposed to wait for us, but he was frantic to get to his family. I am so sorry I was not here to—"

"Shh." I try to reassure him, but I am lost to my own grief. My tears come in earnest now, and sobs of devastation wrack my body as I take in the carnage surrounding us.

Surrounded by death and destruction, we cling to one another. The shouts of men echo through the halls of Masenthorne, and I have to wonder how much more we can endure.

"Is it over?" I ask, pulling back to look up into his eyes. "Tell me it is over."

He nods, smoothing a hand over my head and wiping the tears from my cheeks. He places a gentle kiss to my lips and rests his forehead to mine. "It is over. My father is outside the keep right now, commanding his soldiers. All of Aro's men are either dead or have surrendered. Jacob and the men who were able to get inside were the last who were unaccounted for." He kisses me once more, murmuring against my lips. "It is over."

He holds me tightly, and I continue to cling to him. Listening to Rosalie's wails of grief as she hovers over her husband's body, I close my eyes and pray. I pray for the souls of the lost, and I say a prayer of thanks, for my beloved is alive and in my arms.

The throne room is now all but empty. Edward and a few his men have returned to their king's side to see to what remains of the enemy. The Rheman soldiers who were slain in this very room have been dragged out, leaving behind a blood-stained stone floor. The queen, Angela, and the children soon return, my handmaiden whisking young Emily away to wait in her chambers until her mother can come to her. Alice sits beside Jasper as he is tended to, Jameson held between them. The queen sits beside me, my own son cradled in my arms, as we watch the painful scene before us.

Tears cloud my vision as Emmett's fellow countrymen carefully lift his body onto a swath of clean linen. Peter leads the men as they work together to raise Emmett from the floor and carry him from the room. Now composed, Rosalie walks behind him, accompanying her husband on what will be his final journey.

"Where are they taking him?" I ask Esme, my voice raspy.

"To be prepared for the ceremony."

I look to her. "Ceremony?"

She nods. "It has been many generations since we've suffered a loss this great, but I've heard stories of great ceremonies that honor those who gave their lives for Galon. They will be commemorated as the warriors who saved their people," she says, her voice pained as she watches her nephew disappear from sight.

"He was a great man," I say softly. "His life and sacrifice should always be remembered."

Once back in my chambers, I settle my son in his cradle. He is awake but content, finally having been fed and changed. I use the tepid water in the basin to wash, scrubbing away at the remaining blood on my hands. More tears gather in my eyes as I think of what has happened this night. We came so close to losing everything, not only the lands and Masenthorne, but our very lives. I close my eyes, and tears stream down my cheeks as I think of Emmett and the family he has left behind.

Some of us did lose everything.

The sound of the opening door distracts me from my somber thoughts. I sniffle and wipe at my face. "I should not need anything, Angela. You may spend the night in your chambers. I believe we would all do well to rest," I say over my shoulder, still scrubbing at my pinkening skin.

"Does that mean you will be spending the rest of the night in your chambers?"

I gasp at the sound of my husband's voice, spinning around to meet his weary eyes. I take in his appearance. He is stripped of his armor and washed of all traces of the battle, but he is still an imposing figure as he hovers in my doorway. As I look more closely at the circles beneath his sorrowful eyes, the hunched set of his shoulders, I can see that his victory has come at a great cost.

"I was not expecting you, My Lord."

"Do you wish for me to go to my own chambers?" His question is half-hearted at best. The tiredness in his eyes appears to be soul-deep, and I know this day, the loss he's experienced, weighs heavily upon him.

"Not at all. I hoped you would come to me. I'd just not expected it to be so soon. I thought your father would require your presence for quite some time."

The corner of his mouth twitches, and he shakes his head once. "My father would have been happy to sequester me for several days, in fact, but my mother insisted I come to find you." His gaze bores into mine. "She sent me to wash and told me, in no uncertain terms, I was not to leave your chambers until the sun rose." His eyes flash to the cradle near the fire and back to me. "She tells me there is someone I need to meet."

I smile and nod. "There is," I whisper. I reach out and grasp his hand, guiding him toward our son. "Come."

Edward is wide-eyed and speechless as he peers into the cradle.

I take advantage of his stillness, picking up the child and stepping closer to my husband. "Your son, My Lord." My voice trembles as I pull back the blanket he is swaddled in.

Edward lays eyes on his firstborn child for the first time, and they light up in a way I've never before seen. With a shaky hand, he reaches out a single finger to trace our son's cheek.

"My son," he whispers reverently.

"Your son."

He looks up from the child. "What is his name?"

"I've not yet given him a name. I wish for you to name him."

He shakes his head. "It's hardly the custom here for a father to name his children. It's always been a mother's privilege to make the choice."

"I made the last important decision for us. I think it only appropriate for you to make this one."

A small smile lights his face. "Then I will consider it an honor."

"Would you like to hold him?"

With a gentleness belying his appearance, Edward takes his son into his arms, holding him close. "He is so small," he says with wonderment.

I breathe a small laugh as I guide him to sit beside me on the edge of my bed. "He has actually grown quite a bit in the month since he was born."

"I cannot imagine," he whispers as he traces his son's tiny features with his finger. He looks up to me. "Was it difficult? His birth?"

I shake my head. "No more than any other birth, I suppose."

"I am sorry I was not here."

I smile ruefully. "You were needed elsewhere."

We sit in silence with only the sounds of our son's coos and grunts as his father looks upon him.

"It is an old custom to name the firstborn son after a brave warrior," he says softly, "in hopes he will grow to be just like him." He turns from watching his son, and his eyes meet mine. "I want to name him after my cousin. I wish to name him after Emmett. After all, he saw you safely home after the attack on the road. He rescued you from a blizzard. He fought bravely to defend us. He is the reason I have my family in my arms."

I blink away tears and swallow the lump in my throat. "I think it will be an honor for our son to bear the name of such a great man."

"Prince Emmett Anthony Cullen of Galon," he says with quiet adoration as he looks down on our child. "It is a privilege to meet you, my son."

"And he will sleep all night?" Edward stands behind me as I lay little Emmett in his cradle.

"No," I say with a smile. "But he should sleep for a little while. He was just fed, and his bottom is dry. He will sleep until he is hungry, which isn't terribly long."

Edward stands behind me and wraps his arms around me as we stare down at our son. His eyes are heavy, and as his thumb finds its way into his mouth, it takes no time at all for him to drift to sleep.

My husband nuzzles his nose into my neck and places a kiss upon the tender spot where Jacob's blade nicked me. "I've missed you," he whispers.

I tilt my head to the side, allowing him better access. "As I've missed you."

He turns me and wraps one arm around my waist, while his other hand moves to the back of my head, cradling me against him. His forehead comes to rest on mine, and all of the emotion of the last many weeks bubbles to the surface.

"I was so worried I might never see you again. You were gone for so long."

"I came to you as soon as I could," he says, kissing my forehead. I nod against his kiss, and his mouth moves to mine.

His lips are firm, warm, insistent as he holds me tightly. With a squeeze of his arms, I'm lifted off the ground, my own arms wrapping around his shoulders. I'm held against him as he walks us toward my bed.

He places me on my feet, but I refuse to release him.

"No, please do not let go of me." My voice breaks as I desperately reach for him, and he brings me back into his arms.

"Shh. I won't. But I want to find some fresh clothes for you." He looks down at me, forcing me to look upon my bloodied dress. "You are—"

"Oh, I—"

He kisses the top of my head, and I reluctantly allow him to release me.

He opens the trunk that contains my dresses and other belongings and grabs a handful of fabric and blankets, tossing it all on the floor. Watching him, crouched and searching my belongings, so focused on taking care of my needs, emotion surges inside me. An overwhelming urge to reassure myself he is truly all right, that the fight is truly over, and he is finally home takes over all sense, and I cannot bear to be out of his grasp for another moment.

He stands and turns to me, his hands reaching for the laces of my dress. "We need to get you out of this—"

With a determination and a confidence I did not know I possessed, I cover his mouth with mine, wrapping my arms around his neck. His hands move to my back and I am suddenly surrounded by him. My kiss has sparked a blaze, and all I can do is hold on. Gone are his careful touches, instead replaced with an intensity unlike anything I have ever known.

"My Gods, seeing his blade at your throat, I thought ..." His words are mumbled against the sweaty skin of my neck. He pulls away and cradles my head in his hands. His eyes meet mine, and the fire inside of him is apparent in their green depths. "I told you I would protect you, fight for you. You are mine, Isabella, and no one will take you from me."

His hands move to the collar of my dress. "Tell me you are healed from the birth. Tell me I can have you."

I nod fervently, eager to have him in my bed. "I am."

His fingers curl around the edges of my dress, and he pulls. The thin fabric is no match for his desire to rid me of the sodden material. The stitches and laces simply break away, and it takes a mere moment before I am standing in the center of my bedchamber, completely bare.

My mouth does not leave his as he lifts me, wrapping my legs around his waist and carrying me to my bed. The urgent need for him to fill me sends my hands to search out the laces of his trousers, but the complicated buckles and bands of leather I encounter on my quest only confuse me.

Without a word he sits up on his heels. He fumbles with the last of the laces and buckles, kissing me all the while.

"Mine," he mumbles against my lips as he enters me, swiftly and forcefully.

I cry out. "Yours."

A sense of completeness washes over me as he begins to move. This is not like the careful, gentle encounters we have shared. No, this is much different. No words are spoken as he takes me, the urgent need to be one, to remind us both we are still alive, is just too strong.

Desperate to feel his skin, my fingers slip beneath his tunic, enjoying the feel of his strong muscles as he moves. And as he thrusts, the fabric of his shirt brushes against my sensitive nipples, causing me to gasp with pleasure each time.

"No one will take you from me, wife. No one." His lips brush the skin of my neck, and his tongue swipes across the cut there, causing me to cry out.

My legs hold tightly to his hips as he moves above me, and I believe if we could stay like this forever, I would welcome it. My hands roam of their own accord, continuing to caress the skin of his back before one descends, covering the smooth, strong muscle of his backside as he moves almost fluidly inside me. I hold him tightly, cries of passion leaving my lips as grunts leave his.

Intense pleasure blazes through me, tightening low in my belly and bursting out through my limbs. I hold on to him as he continues to thrust into me, his movements growing slower but stronger, until he stills, pulsing inside me.

"I love you," he murmurs against my lips as he kisses me once more, collapsing to my side and gathering me into his arms.

I curl into his embrace, resting my head on his chest. "And I love you."

For several minutes, nothing more than our heavy breaths and our son's quiet sighs can be heard in the room.

"I truly came back as soon as I could."

I look up at him, and his sharp green eyes meet mine. "I am sure you did."

He turns onto his side and scoots down until we are eye to eye. "It took us more than a sennight to cross paths with Marcus and his men. We were able to track them for a few more days, finally trapping them in a ravine before we attacked. When the last man fell, we accounted for everyone there and came to realize Aro wasn't among the men." He sighs and pulls me closer. "I chose to turn back toward Adwen, in hopes of catching Aro undefended."

"But he was here," I whisper.

He nods. "He was here. We were able to take back Adwen and Broadcove castle, but Aro was not there. We interrogated a few of the men left behind and learned of their plans to use Marcus and his men to lead us away from Galon. By then, it was too late for us to stop what they'd planned."

"But you did return, and you were able to save us," I say with a small smile.

"We were. I only wish I'd been here sooner. Maybe—"

I place a gentle kiss to his lips, silencing him. "In the end, Aro and his men were defeated. It was looking quite grim before you arrived. So, you saved not only us, but the castle and everyone in it. Your people, your father, I will be forever in your debt."

"But it was you who saved me," he whispers against my forehead, placing another kiss there. He tucks me under his chin and strokes a gentle hand down my back.

"Do you know of my sisters' fates? Were they still at Broadcove?" I whisper, afraid of his answer.

When tenses for a moment, I know the news is not good.

"Bree was, as we all suspected, married off to Prince Riley of Moira."

I look up at him. "My mother's homeland?"

He nods. "Yes. They are ... were allies of Rhema, though I am unsure where their alliances lie now that Rhema is all but impotent, given their king and prince are both dead."

"And Jane?"

He heaves a heavy sigh. "They say Marcus entered her chambers one night and she never woke the next morning. I saw to it her body was buried next to your father's. I am sorry."

Every cruel thing she ever said to me, every vicious act she carried out, flashes through my memory. I am unsure how to feel. I am unsure I feel anything.

With kisses and whispered words meant to reassure me, he holds me in his warm embrace, safe and protected from the evils that tried to do us harm. And as we both close our eyes, we listen to the raised voices resonating throughout the castle and beyond my window, shouts of victory which carry on through the night.

Aro and his army have been defeated at last.

Smoke rises from the vast funeral pyres built for all the fallen men. Everyone who lost someone is gathered beyond the gates of Masenthorne. Even the few who have not lost someone are here, paying their last respects.

In all, more than two hundred men fell in battle, Lord Emmett McCarty among them. Noble and peasant alike are given the funeral of a warrior, for they all gave their lives so that we could live.

Edward and I stand side by side, and as each fire is lit, with each lowering of the torch, another family says goodbye. It is the same scene over and over, so many people saying goodbye to their friend, their loved one, their comrade. Each scene is heartbreaking for me, but none so much as watching Lady McCarty and young Emily approach Emmett's body.

They step slowly toward the final pyre to be lit, hand in hand, and as they grow closer, Rosalie's steps falter. When they finally reach him, Rosalie lifts Emily, pulling her up and into her arms. Mother and daughter both bend to place kisses upon their beloved's head. Rosalie lingers, and I can only imagine the many things she is whispering to her husband, things that will always remain unheard.

Slowly, she straightens, placing a gentle kiss on Emily's head before lowering her daughter to the ground. Standing tall and stoic, she reaches out and grasps the burning torch, placing it under her husband's body. She steps back as the tinder beneath him catches, and soon his wrapped body is engulfed in flames. A fissure in her impenetrable armor splinters, and she loses what little composure has been holding her broken pieces together.

Her shoulders shake as she tries to hold in her sobs, attempting to remain strong for her daughter, for her countrymen who look on. She covers her mouth and closes her eyes, the tears held behind her lashes finally spilling onto her cheeks. Peter steps forward to console her, standing by her side as the flames burn.

I turn and bury my face in my husband's chest, and he wraps an arm around me, kissing the top of my head.

"They will be cared for, Isabella," he whispers in my ear, reassuring me. "He gave his life for this land, and we will not soon forget his sacrifice."

I nod against his chest but say nothing in return.

A small cry behind me gains my attention, and I turn to find Angela standing nearby, little Emmett held over her shoulder. She tries to soothe him, but it is to no avail. "I believe he is missing his mother," she whispers.

I nod and gladly gather him into my arms, needing the comfort myself. Content to be held, little Emmett calms and drifts back to sleep as his father and I watch until Emmett's pyre is not much more than a pile of ash.

When the herald calls out that the ceremony is complete, that Galon is in a state of mourning until the next full moon, the crowd begins to disperse.

"What now?" I ask, looking up at Edward. "Where do we go from here?"

He looks down at me, a small smile on his face as he catches sight of our son nuzzled into my neck. His tired eyes meet mine. "We carry on. We rebuild what was lost and forge ahead ... prove their sacrifices were not in vain."

I step into his open arms and am engulfed in his embrace. "I love you," I whisper.

He kisses the top of my head, and we stay as we are and watch as the last of the villagers return to their temporary homes. The tent city that has been erected in the shadow of their burned-out village is a vast sea of canvas. But I have no doubt it will not stand for long. Our people will rebuild quickly.

"Isabella."

I turn to find the king standing a stone's-throw away. "Your Majesty," I reply, quickly gaining my wits.

"Might I have a word with you?" He glances at his son but looks back to me. "Please?"

I look up at Edward's worried expression. Knowing his relationship with his father is still tense, I know he would rather I not speak with Carlisle in private.

"Of course, My Lord, but I wish for my husband to stay." Edward's squeeze of my waist as I stand at his side tells me I have made the right choice.

"Very well," the king replies. He steps closer, and as he nears, I take in his haggard face, the slump of his shoulders. The battle with Rhema seems to have aged him by years. "I wish to both thank you and offer an apology," he finally says.

"My Lord?"

"I am told it was you who fired the bolt which killed Aro, and in doing so, you saved my son." His emotion-filled eyes flash briefly to Edward. "So, I thank you. You saved Galon in more ways than one that night."

"I only did what anyone else in my position would have done. Galon is my home, My Lord, my kingdom, and I wanted to do my part in defending it. My husband will one day rule over the lands and people who live on them. It is my duty to stand by his side and support him any way I can. I am also raising a future king. My loyalty will always lie with them, with the people they will serve. And saving the man I love is something I needed not even think about."

He studies me, his critical eye moving between his son and myself. "I once told you I'd misjudged you, Isabella. But I do not think I knew how much until recently. I have done you a great disservice since you came to us. I've treated you unfairly, and I can only hope to gain your forgiveness."

I look at the child cradled in my arms and then up to my husband before turning back to the king. "I've always known your actions are guided by what you think is best for your people, and I realize you've not always seen me as what is best for them ... or your son." My gaze turns to the field where so many were put to rest this day. "So many have sacrificed so much." I turn back to him. "My having to endure your disapproval of me, for whatever reason you had, is a small price to pay in comparison if it means we are to move forward. I forgive you, My Lord."

"Thank you, Isabella." He smiles. It is a look I've not had the pleasure to see before this moment. I only now realize many of my husband's most striking features are shared with his father. "You will make a gracious and just queen one day." He looks to Edward and back to me. "My son chose well."

With stunned expressions, Edward and I watch as the king turns and walks away.

"I honestly cannot remember the last time I heard my father apologize ... for anything." He looks down at me. A small smile lights his face, and it is a welcome sight after such an emotionally trying day. "You truly will make a wonderful queen one day." He leans down and kisses the top of my head. "My queen," he murmurs against my hair.

Young Emmett chooses that moment to wake, whimpering and vying for our attention.

"And this little one is my prince," my husband says as he takes his son from my arms. The way he holds him close tells me he needs the comfort only our son can provide. He loops an arm around my waist and guides me toward the door leading inside. "Come, my queen. Let us return to our chambers. I wish to lock out the world and enjoy my family, at least for the rest of today. Duty will come calling for me soon enough."

As I watch them, the two most important people in my life, my heart swells with a joy and contentment I never thought I would experience. Gone is the girl who was ignored, mistreated, and unloved, and in her place is a woman, a wife, a mother who has everything she ever wanted—a family who loves her in return.

The future and rule of my homeland is still unknown, but I am certain of one thing: choosing my own fate—marrying Edward and coming to Galon—is one of the best decisions I have ever made. And looking up at my smiling husband as he holds his son in his arms, I am certain that giving him my heart is another.

A/N: *sigh* And that's it other than the epilogue still to come. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Xo

A couple of readers were none too happy with the direction of the story, even this late in the game. I'm not sure what to say about that. I don't feel I misrepresented anything. The story is marked as drama and romance, but I was told by at least one reader that this wasn't romance. *shrugs* I've waffled back and forth about marking it angst, but I think I've decided to go back and edit the A/N in the prologue and mention the heavy drama/light angst to come. If you read the summary, spilled blood is mentioned, so all I can say is, if you had any reservations about the story, a simple PM would have helped. Although, this was very much a work in progress, and the plot developed as it was written. I didn't set out to mislead anyone about the direction of the story. I did, in fact, draw a lot of inspiration for the visuals from The Last Kingdom and Game of Thrones, which I would have told you had you asked, dear GR. ;)

Today is my 22nd wedding anniversary, and we're taking off in a few hours for a ridiculously extended weekend in Florida ... the Sunshine State. Pretty apropos for this family, don't ya think? ;) So, due to being in a different locale on Tuesday, I can't promise what time the epilogue will post, but it will post on (my) Tuesday. And yes I'm looking at you, SassYNoleS. ;p. So, even if I have to drive to a McDonalds for public wifi to post, I will. ;)

No recs this week, and probably none for the epi, either. But I love the recommendations some of you are leaving in reviews. Lots to add to my TBR list!

I wish all of you the happiest of holidays in the coming days. Enjoy your time with friends and family—the most important thing about this time of year. Xo

"See" you soon!

Lots of love

~Sunshine