Her choice has to be her own,Alarik reminded himself.Even if it breaks me.
But as he watched her climb the final steps toward the place where that past now stood waiting in flesh and fury —
He wasn’t sure how long he could keep that promise.
Chapter fifty-eight
The Throne Room
-Maris-
The palace doors towered before her, not merely wood and iron, but the embodiment of judgement.
Every step was a betrayal —of who, she didn’t yet know.
Nerium’s marble steps glittered under the low light of the moon. Each breath was thinner than the last, as if destiny had curled its hand around her throat.
Serenya walked ahead, ever the shield when Maris could not muster one herself. Alarik moved to her side — his posture stiff with everything unsaid between them.
The ship had barely docked when the whispers echoed —Kael was the palace.
He’d arrived before them.
Her hand, unadorned, curled at her side. The white-gold ring still lay tucked in her chest, cold and distant as the stars overhead.
She knew Kael would notice its absence. She worried he'd see Alarik at her side and would jump to conclusions.
As they approached, she saw Zairon waiting on the steps — his presence calm and unmoving.
“He’s here,” Zairon said softly, eyes meeting hers first, then drifting sharply to Alarik. “Waiting where kings rarely beg.”
Maris’s chest tightened.
Zairon’s voice dropped even lower. “If you’re not ready to face him… you don’t have to.”
No judgment. No force.
Behind her, Serenya laid a steady hand on her back.
She nodded, her voice low. “I’m not walking in there like a victim.”
Zairon’s brow ticked upward, just once. “Good.”
He stepped aside, the palace yawning open behind him like a beast with gilded fangs.
The throne room waited.
-Kael-
He had prepared a thousand versions of this moment in his head.
In some, she ran to him. In others, she struck him across the face. But in all of them, she wore the ring.
She didn’t now.
And that simple absence shattered every imagined reunion like glass beneath a boot.
The heavy doors groaned open.
