Weeks passed in a flurry. Tristan did deal with some of the problems plaguing him: mostly diplomacy with the new ruler of the Demon Realm, Lady Dalphatroux. She was able to garner the votes and was much more receptive to Tristan’s diplomatic advances than the pre-eminent essence-weaver’s House. He also received final confirmation from the fairy dragons that were sent out to find the assassins with dryads and unicorns – all were slain. And, their corpses remained upon death. Whatever artificed item in Saumur was allowing them to retreat upon death was either destroyed, or the source of its essence was devastated.

  Relations with the Citadel of Essence were smoothed over, and the Fey Realm was added as a permanent, daily portal location in the inter-realm market, just like the other realms. Trade flourished, and Tristan felt more and more of the ambient essence slightly slipping away as Elves began to return. Even Shandra was allowed back in, and Tristan brought her to the top boughs.

  “Seasons ago you punished me for coming up here,” she said as she gazed out over the splendor of the Fey Realm.

  Tristan was in his full suit of armor, as it was quite comfortable, but only carried around his sword and dagger. “Yes I did. And you learned a lesson.”

  She held up her hand, and the finger was back. “I got it regenerated. Still a painful lesson, though.” She turned to face him fully and bowed. “I want to put in my formal application to be a permanent resident.”

  “You’ll have to go through the process that everyone does,” Tristan replied with a slight smile. “But, I am not opposed to it. You’ve matured since you challenged my rule.”

  “As have you, despite the short time.”

  Felicity came flying from above. “That stupid, smug, Fallthorn face and tits!” She landed on Tristan’s head and made aggressive paw-claw biscuits. “What is she doing here?!”

  Tristan chuckled. “Calm down, Felicity. She is an Elf, and will be permitted to apply as a permanent resident.”

  Shandra looked genuinely remorseful. “I’m sorry, Felicity Glimmerwing.”

  “Hmph!” Felicity just growled a little bit. “No more top boughs for you!”

  “You heard Lady Dragonbloom,” Tristan said as he rolled his eyes, which thankfully only Shandra could see. “Off the top boughs you go.”

  “Lady Dragonbloom?” Shandra asked.

  Felicity peacocked in delight, her wings splaying out behind her and thwacking Tristan’s ears. “Yup! Tristan’s officially designated me as his Lady.”

  “The Fey Realm doesn’t have marriage,” Tristan explained as he led Shandra to the exit from the top boughs. “It has partnerships, and you can take the last name of the person you are seeing if you like. Felicity has elected to let everyone know exactly who has captured my affections.”

  “Damn right,” Felicity said with a grin.

  Shandra replied. “That’s interesting.”

  Tristan stood before the assembled Witchkin in The Witchwood. All of them were on their knee; men, women, children. The Matriarch was walking them through the vow they would be taking. Once spoken, in the presence of Tristan fused to the realm, he could bind them just as the Elves were bound. As if he had made the Heritage himself. A permanent adoption.

  As the Witchkin followed The Matriarch’s words, Tristan both-direction spun his crucible. The last lines finished, and Tristan spoke in Elvish, which they could now speak thanks to the grafting of their realm. “I, Lord Tristan Dragonbloom, accept the fealty and vows of the Witchkin. You will always be children of the Fey Realm, and welcome in its lands.” He stopped the both-direction spin and grinned. “We’ll keep this section on its own – I like the whole dark, moody forest aesthetic. It’s a nice change of pace. But, you are more than welcome to leave the enclave if you desire. Come by the Queen’s Wood marketplace, and acquire some wonderful items.” Tristan turned and departed, manifesting his wings and flapping hard as he flew back to the Queen’s Wood.

  The Matriarch joined him in his flight. “And thus another item is completed from your list.” The word “list” was said with disgust.

  Tristan replied. “The to-do list shrinks. You are still working on bringing back the Elves, but that is a gradual, long-term goal. We won’t see that accomplished for many years, I imagine. As for my personal list? The sub-seals are next.”

  “Well, do not make any plans for tomorrow. We have a surprise for you.”

  Tristan looked sideways at her. “Oh?”

  She smiled, but said nothing.

  As they landed at the Queen’s Wood, a fairy dragon came flapping over. “Lord Tristan! That Drakonid lady asked for you to come immediately!”

  Tristan’s heart skipped a beat. “Go get my grandfather, and Felicity.”

  “They’re already there!”

  Tristan flew over to the house near the Springthaw Meadow, with The Matriarch right behind him. He landed, and spotted a slightly odd sight. Rory was sitting on top of a wooden crate, that was stuffed with grass. Bertram was sitting on a seat next to her, with Hurvun and Felicity asking dozens of questions. Felicity was in her Elfanoid form.

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  “How do you feed it?” Felicity asked.

  “Why does my first great grandchild have to be in an egg?” Hurvun asked.

  Rory answered both quickly and with efficiency. “There is enough within the egg for our child to subsist for up to five years. The longer they stay in the egg, the more mature they will be upon emerging. It is up to the child when they wish to emerge.” She looked at Hurvun. “It is just how we work.”

  Bertram seemed relieved as Tristan arrived. “Thank the gods, someone who won’t ask weird questions!”

  Tristan walked forward with a grin. “Congratulations are in order. Your first child.”

  “Thank you,” Rory said as her voice filled with pride. “My first child as well.”

  Bertram chuckled. “I promise, sweetness, I never slept around like father in the brothels.”

  Felicity looked at Tristan. “So what’s the child going to be? Half-breed Human and Drakonid?”

  “I honestly have no clue,” Tristan replied.

  The Matriarch spoke. “Neither do I. A child of two Heritages, neither of them Elf, but born in the Fey Realm. Technically, your child will be a resident of this place . . . I think.” She pursed her lips. “I do not know if the act of being born in the egg, or conceived while here, or emerging from the egg would be the qualifying event.”

  Tristan shrugged. “It matters little. Your child is welcome to stay here.” He chuckled. “We won’t even need puppets to have them train against! Fairy dragons can shapeshift into Elemental Realm ones for training purposes.”

  Hurvun deflated slightly at that. “Damn. I was hoping to get the chance to make some training puppets. They worked wonders with you when you both were children.”

  “Ask Dorni and the gnomes. They’d probably love making them,” Tristan replied.

  The group chatted until the sun set, and Felicity grabbed Tristan’s hand and led him back to the Queen’s Wood on a pleasant walk. On their way through the Springthaw Meadow, Onyx, Midnight, and Ebony approached at a trot. “Lord Tristan,” Midnight said.

  “Good to see you trio hale and healthy.”

  “We wanted to ask your permission for something,” Onyx said.

  “Go ahead.”

  Midnight spoke. “We heard of your half-brother’s first born child. Would you be opposed to Ebony being socialized with the child from an early age?”

  Onyx added. “I cannot help but think how much better you and I would have worked together if I had been around you for years before you took me from your father’s stables.”

  “And I want to go fight dragons!” Ebony added.

  Tristan chuckled. “Well, if your parents are okay with it, go ask Betram and Rory.” Ebony bolted off, and Midnight chased down the foal. Onyx walked forward and dipped his head in thanks before departing.

  Felicity dragged Tristan to his chambers below the Queen’s Wood, and he lost himself in her bliss.

  Tristan woke up and performed his usual routine. Morning inner world sparring with Zeltana, while his body was curled up with Felicity. A way to keep his fighting prowess sharp, and even improve, as Zeltana could change her physique to always provide a challenge. Then, after Felicity began to rouse, the duo would have breakfast, attend Fey Court, and go about their business.

  Today was different. The moment Felicity roused, she grabbed Tristan and pulled him out of bed, playfully throwing him into the pool. “Come on! Get washed up, and get dressed! No armor.”

  “Alright,” Tristan replied as he eyed her suspiciously. “Does this have to do with The Matriarch’s surprise?”

  “She wasn’t supposed to tell you,” Felicity grumbled. “I’m going to go and pull her tail for spoiling it!”

  “What is it?” Tristan asked, prodding gently.

  “Nope! Nope nope, nope!” Felicity plugged her ears. “You can’t convince me to give up my secrets! Just get clean.”

  “You should get clean, too.”

  “Fine.” She jumped into the water next to him, shapeshifted into a fish, and then jumped out of the water before swapping back to her Elfanoid form. “There. Clean.”

  Tristan chuckled and got out, dried off, and dressed in fresh, silky strandvine clothing. After pulling on his boots, Felicity all but dragged him up the ramp from the depths of the Queen’s Wood, and outside. What Tristan was met by was completely unexpected.

  A statue, molded from Adamant Wood, but engraved with painstaking detail. It showed him, in full scale, life sized, standing with a foot atop a dragon’s head. Sword resting on his shoulder. Armor fully enclosing his body, except for the head. Somehow they had even been able to pull off thin strands of hair blowing in the breeze.

  “Happy birthday!” Felicity said, which was quickly followed up by the assembled Fey Court and his family.

  Tristan had completely lost track of the dates. “It’s already the first of Freezing Season?”

  “Yup!” Felicity said. “That makes you nineteen. Three years since we’ve known each other. You know, since I first got you to chase me when I was sixteen.”

  Tristan looked at Dorni and the other gnomes, faces all but carved into broad smiles. “Thank you for this amazing gift,” Tristan said. “All of you,” he said as he addressed the whole group. “This realm would not be what it is without your contributions. We flourish because of your hard work.” He walked down and circled the statue, noting how it had sapphires embedded where the eyes would be. “This is a masterpiece. I would have it put on the opposite side of the Queen’s Wood entrance from the plaque of the dead.”

  The gnomes moved the statue, and Tristan wrapped an arm around Felicity’s shoulder as he looked up at the Queen’s Wood. “Thank you,” he whispered to her, before leaning over and giving her a kiss on the forehead.

  “We have a full day planned,” The Matriarch said. “Games, food, prizes; it is to be a realm-wide celebration.”

  Tristan turned to face The Matriarch. “I don’t think I can participate in games. I’d win all of them.”

  “That’s where we came in!” A swarm of fairy dragons flew down from above. Jeremy, the one who Tristan had accidentally frozen twice, spoke. “We’re going to do a scavenger hunt to start! No essence-weaving. Just a bunch of riddles in the form of poems the dryads put together. The spriggan hid them all over the Fey Realm.”

  Felicity grabbed Tristan’s hand and led him to the back of the Queen’s Wood. Bertram, Hurvun, Eloise, Shandra, and several other non-native residents were mounted on unicorns. Onyx was waiting, and clomped his hoof into the dirt. “Lord Trist. We are going to win this competition.”

  The other unicorns began talking trash, and their riders also added to it.

  Felicity whispered to Tristan as she walked him over to Tristan. “I’ll give you a little hint. First item on the scavenger hunt is where we first got here.”

  The Matriarch walked in front of the group of unicorn riders as Tristan gripped Onyx’s mane and leaped atop the mighty black unicorn. “The rules. No essence-weaving. No manifesting wings except for when you need to get to the clouds above. No sabotage. But beware the fairy dragons who will try and mislead you!” She raised a banner.

  Tristan leaned over Onyx’s neck, and whispered. “Let’s win this.”

  “We have to on your day of birth,” Onyx whispered back.

  The Matriarch dropped the banner. “Go!”

  Tristan ducked low over Onyx’s back as the unicorn accelerated, letting out a whoop of delight as he raced across the Springthaw Meadows. Free of worry from assassins stalking him. Free of the weight of responsibility for avenging his mother’s death. Free of the guilt for the deaths of those under his command.

  It was going to be a joyous day.