Diamond for power. Ruby for love. Emerald for magic...Then suddenly, a hidden compartment popped out.
I could not see what he was doing, but my breath had stalled in my throat. Instinct swirled through me, nerves and hope and... something entirely indefinable.
“Your uncle was... focused after you returned. Well, more focused than he had been prior. And also more crazed, if you don’t mind me saying.” He stood, holding a black pillow covered with a black velvet cloth. “He was also obsessed with the idea of protecting the Crown of Nine. He would stay up all hours of the night working in here in secret except when Queen Ravanna was in residence. Then he would act as though he’d never heard or seen this room before. This morning, he showed me why.” Curtis carefully picked up the cloth and pulled it away. A gleaming, golden crown rested on the pillow, an exact replica of the Crown of Nine.
“He fashioned a replica?” I gasped, amazed at his craftmanship, at the way it even seemed to look aged and weathered. At the way it seemed to ring with power and whisper the magic that had been stolen from it, just like the original.
“Yes,” Curtis confirmed.
I walked over to the crown and ran my fingers over the inset gemstones. “It looks exactly like the original.”
“It does,” Curtis agreed. “Which is why Queen Ravanna did not notice she had the fake.”
I took a step back. And then two steps forward. “You’re not—” I looked closer at the Crown. “You can’t be serious.”
“I don’t know how he knew. Or why he didn’t go to greater lengths to stop Queen Ravanna. But somehow, your uncle knew the Blackthorne queen was coming for the Crown of Nine. So he made sure she got it.”
Carefully reaching for the Crown that had caused so much destruction, I lifted it from the pillow and held it up to the moonlight. Katrinka had stood to her feet and walked over to marvel at it as well.
“You need to put it on,” she said in a low, somber voice. “You need to finish the coronation.”
I didn’t know what it mattered at this point. I was queen one way or another now that Tyrn was dead. The Crown was just a formality now.
Still, her encouragement resonated in some deep, secret chamber inside my heart. I wanted to wear the Crown of Nine. I wanted to claim it as mine.
I wanted to finish what had been started when Father Garius pulled me from the river. Or maybe what had been started before even that—when my family had been murdered, and I’d been the oldest survivor to a royal, ancient bloodline with magic in her veins and power in her heart.
Purpose and destiny and something potent whispered through me as I placed it on my head. My hair was loose around my shoulders, tangled in the diamonds sewed to my gown. And so there was nothing to get in the way of sliding it into place.
I sucked in a sharp breath at the burst of sensation that exploded through me. At the weight of it—not just in gold, but in the calling of it. In the fate of it.
Just like the time I’d tried it on back in Heprin, I felt the magic and power of this ancient diadem connect with the magic and power inside me—although I could not name what it was back then.
The crown seemed to call to the thing inside me and sing to it. They entwined together in something beautiful and harmonious.
I had never felt more like myself, more like the self I was supposed to be. I had never felt more alive. More powerful. More... full of magic.
The Crown of Nine was part of my family’s legacy. And part of my destiny. And I would do whatever it took to end the threat to my realm. Even if it meant killing Ravanna Pressydia myself.
“Thank you,” I whispered to Curtis, tears pricking the corners of my eyes once more.
“Thank you, Your Majesty. For what you have done.” He paused, letting the burden of his words settle around us. “And what you are going to do.”
To the room at large, I said, “Now, let’s figure out how to win this war.”
Katrinka held up a finger, pushing her spectacles up her nose with her other hand. “Shouldn’t you get married first?”
I cringed as Oliver screeched out a question. “Married to whom?”
But then he was there. Dover let Caspian in the room. He looked as though he had something to say but stopped short at the sight of me wearing the true Crown of Nine.
“Where did that come from?” he gasped.
I smiled a true, real, genuine smile. “My uncle had more tricks up his sleeves than we gave him credit for.”
“It is truly the Crown then?” he asked. I nodded. “And the one Ravanna has?”
“A replica.”
“Then the war will be won,” Caspian murmured reverently. “Because who could ever prevail against Tessana Allisand wearing the Crown of Nine and the second son of Vorestra at her side?”
My smile widened as purpose and promise, and some very serious nerves swept through me once more. Who indeed?
