The Tower of the Forgotten (17 page)

Imogen
touched the starburst scar on Portia’s chest. Her fingertips
felt warm. "What happened to you in
there?"

"I
died," Portia answered, simply. "Two or three times, I think."

Imogen
did not press her for more. In time, they would speak of it, she knew. There
were no secrets between them, and now, not even the secret of the grave.

"That
makes us even, then. We’ve now both died and
made our way back to one another."

"Hey, I had to go and
get
you."

"That’s hardly fair—I was being kept
prisoner! And I was blind," Imogen said with mock annoyance.

And
they laughed and the fear evaporated.

Holding
each other close, they kissed beneath the first star of the evening.

"You
didn’t know that I waited for you?" Imogen asked.

"Not
here, no. I thought you had died. I thought I would have to wait a little while
longer for this. But I was determined to go and find you, no matter what. I
have lost a lot of things in my time, but the important ones always end up
coming back to me."

Smiling,
Imogen tied the key charm back onto Portia’s wrist. "They say if you love something, set it free. If it comes
back to you, it’s yours forever."

"And
we do have forever, now, don’t we?"

"All
of eternity, my love, until the end of the world and every moment after."

Arm
in arm, they walked back down the beach. High on the cliff, Portia knew there
was a ledge where they could be alone, where no one could see them. Imogen drew
her cloak around them both, covering their wings and warming their chilled
flesh.

"So," she said, "you chose to return to
the world without knowing I was here?"

Portia
nodded. "I did. I think they wanted me to. I think
they wanted me to think I was making a sacrifice, putting off my own happiness."

"We’re at war, my love. Little will be happy about it."

"I
know. But what little will be, will be happy indeed." Portia wrapped her arms around Imogen’s body. "There are precious few
things in which I have absolute faith. I want you to know that you are one of
them."

"And
here we are." Imogen laid her head
against Portia’s shoulder. "You are my light, Portia, now and forever. You are what I
live for, what I died for, and thankfully, why I live again."

Portia
smiled and kissed her. "And here we are."

The
very last of the sunset caressed the opalescent rock formation in the midst of
the surging water far below, bringing it momentarily to life. Portia whispered
a prayer for Celestine and her forsaken maidens, for Radinka and Kendrick
seeking one another in the underworld, for Nigel’s
lost and broken soul, for Lady Hester and for Kitty kept from their own
peaceful rest for too long, and finally, for Imogen and herself. When she
crossed herself, she left a sparkling trail in the wake of her hands.

"By
all the saints and angels, blessed be the souls of those who have passed
through the gates of death."

"And
blessed be those who have come through the other side," Imogen added.

One by one, the stars came to life,
gleaming crisply in the black sky and casting shimmering reflections on the
crests of the waves, illuminating the silvery sea foam below them.

Acknowledgments

Here we are at the end of the series begun three years ago,
I never thought I’d really ever be here. And I wouldn’t be were it not for the
great folks at Apex: Jason Sizemore, the bossman; Deb Taber, editrix
extraordinaire; Melissa Gay, the brilliant artist; Rhonda and Monica, the
marketing ladies; and all the Apex Minions.’d also like to thank Elizabeth
Donald and the Literary Underworld for keeping my book in front of the noses—and pocketbooks—of convention goers across the country.

My thanks to my devoted beta readers—The
Ferrett, Mary Spila, Kat Brown, Angelia Sparrow, Ailsa Barrett, Julia Rios, and
Elizalis Simon. Y’all have helped shape this story and this world…and kept me
from many embarrassing typos.

Jacqueline
Carey and Cherie Priest, thank you both for your continued support and
enthusiasm for this trilogy.

A
big shout-out to my best friend Gretchen Dempewolf—my personal archivist and biggest cheerleader, thank you for
being there for me even when you are thousands of miles away in another
country!

And
of course, thank you to my beloved husband, best friend, and true partner, Matt
Schwartz. Last, but by no means least, thank you to my baby daughter, Beatrice,
for teaching me the true meanings of both patience and priorities.

Bios

SARA M. HARVEY lives
and writes in Nashville, TN with her husband and fellow author, Matt, their
three dogs—Guinevere, Eowyn, and Javert, and the newest addition to the
household, beautiful baby Beatrice.

She also works as a costume designer, an
instructor of costume history and fashion, and a freelance fashionista. She
Twitters and blogs at LiveJournal under the username of saraphina_marie, keeps
a Facebook page, and her own website: www.saramharvey.com.

And
now that this series is done, she’s a little unsure of what she’ll do next…

* * * *

As a longtime avid fan of the speculative
fiction genre, MELISSA GAY is at her most relentlessly perky when illustrating science fiction, fantasy, horror,
or role-playing games. Her work has been featured on numerous covers and in the
interiors of works in these and other genres, including scientific botanical
illustration. Her passion is creating poetry in sweeping lines, bold shadows,
and intriguing details. She looks to the works of illustrators, painters, and
comic book artists such as Arthur Rackham, Alphonse Mucha, Don Maitz, Bernie
Wrightson, and Bryan Hitch for inspiration and education. She will noodle with
a finished painting until someone forcibly takes it away from her. ("I’ve just
got to move this one line over five microns, then I’ll put the brush down,
really! Hey, gimme that back!") She received a B.A. in painting from the
University of the South at Sewanee, Tennessee, and currently lives in Nashville
with her husband and son.

Visit Melissa at her website:
www.melissagay.com.