leaving their homes would mean never being able to return.
“We will have a world where everyone is equal and magic can be dealt safely,” Wesley said. “Of course, there will be bans on dangerous charms, but as a whole we need to learn to respect magic instead of fear it. Just like we must learn to respect Crafters. It was only because of magic that we were able to stop Dante Ashwood.”
Schulze cleared her throat, like the truth of that made her more uncomfortable than anything.
“We need to unite,” Wesley said. “Civilians, amityguards, buskers, and Crafters. It’s the only way for peace.”
His eyes scanned the crowd, the look on his face similar to the one he wore as an underboss, except this time there was a new authority to it, not rooted in ego or the desire to be the best, but the need to keep as many people safe as he could.
To protect Creije as he had always done.
Saxony never thought that she’d feel proud of Wesley Thornton Walcott, but looking at him now, standing in front of a microphone as the realms watched on, a Doyen by his side, that was exactly what she felt.
He didn’t want to take over the magic trade; he wanted to make sure there wasn’t a trade that could harm their people. Just magic, some good, some not so good, but all of it available and none of it made to keep Crafters in shackles.
“This is the beginning of a new realm,” Wesley said. “And a fresh start for us all.”
He held out his hand for the Doyen to shake, a formality that was so desperately needed in these times.
Schulze looked down at Wesley’s hand, and with only the smallest of frowns did she clasp it in her own.
Saxony let out a long breath, and for once it wasn’t a sigh or a preparation for scary futures to come.
It was relief.
It was hope.
Doyen Schulze was willing to make a deal to give Crafters the chance at a normal life. Finally, more than fifty years after the War of Ages had ended, their realm and her people could begin to heal.
This was the future Saxony had always wanted. It was the reason she had come to Creije: to avenge her family by killing Ashwood, to free her people by changing the laws and attitudes toward magic, and to unite the people she loved.
She had done all of that now, and with her sister at her side and her brother onstage shaking hands with a Doyen, Saxony felt her heart lift.
This was everything she had ever dreamed of. And so finally she could stop dreaming and start living.
44
Wesley
SAXONY, KARAM, AND ZEKIA were seated on the grass by the riverbank, where the next train to Rishiya waited. Most of their army had congregated inside, except for those who wished to stay in Creije. Or those who planned on getting the first train they could out of Uskhanya entirely.
“Is Tavia here?” Wesley asked.
Saxony looked at him with a raised eyebrow, untangling her hand from Karam’s. “I’m sorry, is our company not good enough for the underboss of Creije?”
Wesley shrugged, his smile tipping upward.
“She is by the Crook,” Karam said. “Where else would a busker be?”
That sounded like Tavia.
Wesley sat down on the grass beside Zekia, resigned to the fact that his suit was ruined.
“How’s our Doyen?” Saxony asked.
“Busy,” Wesley said. “Who knew reshaping the world was so much work?”
It had been a week since Dante Ashwood had been killed.After they had addressed the realms from the Halls of Government, they had traveled back into Creije to begin reopening the capital city’s most notorious and inspiring landmarks. The museum, the library, and, of course, the bars would soon follow. The Crook would be the first of them to open its doors and wet its glasses with Cloverye for the nervous patrons, helping to ease everyone back into the routine of daily life.
But despite all that, it would be at least another few weeks until their armies would be able to properly scour Uskhanya and find the strays of Ashwood’s people. Not to mention that there were bound to be hundreds of innocents scattered around the realm, in need of saving and curing. Wesley couldn’t see himself getting a break anytime soon.
“Are you excited?” Zekia asked.
Wesley turned to her with a curious expression and lounged back onto the palms of his hands. “About what?”
“Being in charge,” she said.
“I’m always in charge,” he said. “I’m just excited to be home.”
Saxony