“Together,” he whispers. “We’ll get through this—I’m here for you, always.”
I turn my wide eyes on him, clutch his arm harder, and finally let out a tight breath.
“Before gods and men,” Kendan announces, lifting his hands heavenward. “Today marks the change from one reign to another. One Astagnon to another. We come together not in a time of peace, but peril. Our city bleeds. Its people tremble. And yet, a bold new hope for our future has risen!”
My face feels hot as I gather the antique gown’s heavy skirt and, holding Basten’s arm for support, lower to my knees on one of the low benches. He does the same, and side by side, we stare out at the crowd.
It feels so vulnerable, like this. On my knees. The cold late fall air on my bare neck. The truth about my fae nature revealed now to everyone.
Kendan continues, “We place upon you, Lord Basten, a crown of crow feathers, the ancient symbol of wisdom and justice. Not as a reward, but as a charge. To protect this great kingdom against all enemies, human and immortal.”
Kendan signals to Matron White, who lifts the crow-feather crown from the velvet pillow and lowers it ceremonially over Basten’s head.
Kendan pronounces, “From this day forth, you shall be known as King Basten Valvere of Astagnon.”
Applause erupts throughout the Reliquary Garden with enough force to make the headstones tremble. Tears glisten in elderly maids’ eyes as they clasp hands with one another. The heralds posted on the castle walls raise their flags.
For a moment, I forget to breathe—then Kendan lowers his hands to signal to the crowd to quiet.
In that silence, all my worry creeps back into me.
“And now, we place upon you, Lady Sabine, our Goddess of Nature, Immortal Solene, the crown of the feather of truth.” Kendan signals to Matron White again, who holds the crown over my Immortal Crown braid. “Henceforth, may you shieldthis kingdom against its darkest enemies. Let us crown our new regent, Queen Sabine Valvere of Astagnon.”
Matron White lowers the crown on my head. Her movements are perfectly reverential, but I don’t believe her act for a second—it’s impossible to know if she supports me or not, if she sees me as a traitor or a true savior.
I hold my breath, staring out at the audience.
“The Winged Lady!” A young man cries.
The Winged Lady symbol spreads like wildfire, until I’m gazing out at dozens of lifted hands in my honor. My chest aches with relief, with gratitude.
Sure, not everyone in the audience seems pleased—there are the old generals still scowling, a troop of soldiers who remain stony-faced. But still. It’s enough.
They accept me—as I truly am.
Basten takes my hand in his, his bright eyes more adoring than the stars themselves.
A sea of Winged Lady gestures flutters below me. I feel it—the weight of their trust in me.
And I think to myself:I can do this.
Matron White leans close to fasten the crown on my head with a brass pin, and whispers in my ear, “I still own you, girl. Fae or not.”
I don’t look at her. I look past her—to the young maid with the Winged Lady gesture marveling up at the falling petals.
I may be the one kneeling now—but soon enough, Matron White is going to bow tome.
Chapter 18
Basten
Gods, if Sabine could only hear what I can.
As Sabine and I make our way back through the Reliquary Garden, bowing and accepting adoring prayers to her, my ears fill with hushed, awe-filled whispers that stretch back all the way to the outer wall.
Word is spreading through town.Immortal Solene has risen to save Old Coros from the Cold Coins.
We reach a line of gray-haired advisors waiting to touch our foreheads in blessing. I have to grit my teeth and remind myself to wipe the impatient scowl off my face.
