I look to Ingrid for any sign that she knows something I don’t. She squeezes my hand, and I don’t know how to interpret that in this moment.
“Do you stand as two, or one?” Fenrelle asks, expression serious again.
Ingrid squeezes my hand once more, and this time I have no doubt what she’s saying.
‘I got this.’
And I know she does.
“We stand as one with Crownwood,” Ingrid says.
Countess Fenrelle breaks into a wide grin, signaling to the room that we passed.
We passed?
I hardly believe it even as the room breaks into applause and cheers. It’s no less believable when the crown is placed atop my head, or when I see a similar one on Ingrid’s.
It’s not real until Ingrid pulls me into her arms, smiling up at me with those lips that are begging to be kissed.
“You did an incredible job, my king,” she says, face flushed halemercy pink.
“And you were perfect, my queen. As always.”
We kiss under the flowering throne tree, the rest of the realm forgotten while we’re lost in each other. Just as it should be.
No matter the seasons coming and going, no matter how brutal and unforgiving the winter might be, I know as long as we’re together, spring will return.
