“The creation magic has returned!” America cried, her arms stretched toward the sky. “It is a blessing from Goddess Barbie upon Prince Rowan and his mate, Sy!”
I bristled. Of course, Barbie got the credit. But pointing that out would only give my sister another chance to derail this hard-won political moment.
“Sy, you did it!” Barbie shouted. “Now, can you make me some new yoga pants? I want the finest material!”
“Make your own pants!” I shot back, but my lips twitched.
A voice rose in song, steady and filled with purpose. It was an old fae ballad. Other voices joined in, layering in harmony the way only fae could, multiple melodies weaving together into a single, breathtaking tapestry of sound.
“When shadows rise and darkness falls,
When silent death itself now calls,
We stand as one, behind these walls,
Together we rise, or together we fall.”
The song swelled, harmonies layering into something that vibrated in the very stones and in the marrow of my bones.
“Blood of earth and starlit sky,
Through our veins, the magic’s cry,
A power born that cannot die...”
Then Rowan’s voice joined, rich and resonant, a force of nature in its own right. I felt the words not just with my ears but through the bond we shared, a tremor of sorrow and a vow that the old ways of isolation and fear were over.
“No crown of gold, no throne of stone,
The old must break to seed the new,
Through sacred vow and blood we’re true,
One realm, one fight, to forge the dawn.”
The final verse erupted, no longer a song but a declaration, hundreds of voices fused into a single, unbreakable will:
“When shadows rise and darkness falls,
We’ll answer when our realm calls!
Together we stand, ‘til the last wall falls,
Together we rise, or not at all!”
The last note hung in the air, not as an echo but as a seal.
Rowan stood in the center of it all, his silver hair radiant. No crown adorned his head, and no throne supported him, yet every inch of him radiated command, purpose, and a power that could never be stripped away.
That was what a true king looked like, not one who ruled by blood or force, but one whom people chose to follow.
“The House of Fae is ours,” he said, his voice quiet yet carrying to every ear. “Not mine.Ours.Everyone who stands here, everyone who chooses unity over division, has a home here.”
And then he kissed me.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
