The Purple Emperor

EPILOGUE

Henry wondered why he felt so miserable. Blue was Queen now, which was wonderful. She wouldn't have much time for him, of course, not with her new position and titles and being busy and so forth, but that was all right. The important thing was that she was Queen, which she'd be very good at, and Pyrgus wouldn't have to be Emperor, which he'd been dreading, and she'd pardoned Pyrgus so Hairstreak couldn't make trouble over the things Pyrgus did, which meant everything was all right and everyone was happy and it didn't matter a bit, not a bit, that Blue would never again have time for somebody like Henry who wasn't even a faerie or a hero or a wizard or anything exciting really. It didn't matter at all. It wasn't like they'd been going out or anything.

Maybe it was the thought of going home that was depressing him. The lethe cones would help, but there was still the fact that he'd got multicoloured hands, although they were fading a bit now. And there was Mr Fogarty's house to sort out. And Aisling. The thought of Aisling was always depressing. That had to be it. Nothing to do with Blue at all.

He closed the door of his palace quarters and immediately peeled off his golden britches. The relief was astonishing. He was on his way to the wardrobe to find a pair of really baggy trousers when he saw the single rose left on his table. Beside it was a tiny phial of amber liquid. Although the room was warm, the rose had dewdrops on its petals.

Henry picked up the phial and uncorked it. He thought it might be perfume, but the scent, while pleasant, proved far too mild. Cautiously he tilted a single drop on the tip of his tongue.

It was like a silent explosion. His depression disappeared like morning mist and ecstasy crashed over him. The palace dissolved into a pulse of pure white light. His soul burst from his breast to fill the universe. He was all and everything and it was bliss.

The experience lasted a lifetime and ended in a second. His hands were trembling as he pushed the cork back in the phial. As he turned it over, he caught sight of the tiny lettering engraved in the glass:

Essence of Love

Henry wondered who had sent it.