“Then don’t.”
I turned. Stared at him. “What?”
Daemon met my gaze steadily. “Ruling doesn’t mean dominating. It doesn’t require you to become something you’re not or abandon what you believe.” He stepped closer, voice dropping. “Seris, destiny doesn’t remove choice. It just changes the options available.”
“Those options include walking away.”
“They do.” No judgment in his tone. Just truth. “You could leave right now. Go anywhere. I’d make sure you were protected, had all you needed, and that no one hunted you again. You’d be free.”
The offer hung between us. Genuine. Possible. Real.
“But?” I asked.
"But you won’t." The corner of his mouth lifted. "Because you’re not someone who walks away when people need help. Theentire time I’ve known you, you’ve made the choice to fight for those who need help around you. I’ve also seen the doubt that burdens you before these choices, but you end up choosing to fight anyway. Your mother’s legacy, perhaps. Lyralei’s too. Right now, it may be overwhelming, but the truth is… you have a chance to not only fight for those you love but also protect and help them flourish."
He reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away. When I didn’t, his hand cupped my cheek.
"You're afraid of becoming what the crown represents, because you’ve only seen the crown used for conquest and blood." His thumb brushed along my jaw. "But we can show everyone outside these walls something different."
Daemon was right, but his words didn’t lighten the burden of the choice.
"I don’t know how to rule."
"Neither do I. Not really. I was trained as an assassin, not a king. Everything I learned about governance came from watching my father make the wrong choice over and over." He smiled without humor. "But we don’t have to repeat his mistakes. We can build something different. Something better."
"Like what?" The question came out sharper than intended, edged with desperation. "How do we reshape a kingdom that’s been rotting from the throne for generations?"
"By invoking what we learned in Vaelthorne." His eyes brightened with something almost like hope. "Equality. Restraint. Magic as a tool rather than a weapon. Community instead of conquest. The Fae built something beautiful there. It wasn’t done through domination but through balance and mutual care. Right now, the citizens of this kingdom are more receptive to the Fae than they have been for centuries. The time for change is now."
Ruling not as dominance but as protection.
Using power to shield rather than strike.
Creating systems that prevent corruption instead of enabling it.
"The throne itself needs to change," I said slowly. "Not just who sits on it, but what it is. What it represents."
"Agreed."
I lifted my chin while in his embrace to face him. "Protection for the Fae who remain. Legal recognition of their rights. Safety for anyone with magical ability, not just Veil-touched, but all forms of power that have been hunted or suppressed."
"Done."
"Laws limiting the crown’s authority. Councils with real power to check royal decisions. Transparency in governance so corruption can’t hide in the shadows." The ideas flowed faster now, building momentum. "And accountability. If we make the wrong choice, if we abuse the power entrusted to us, there has to be consequences. Real ones."
Daemon smiled, genuine warmth breaking through his usual careful control. "You’re describing the opposite of everything my father built."
"Hope so." The word came out fierce. "It must be different. Let every stone of his reign be torn down and replaced with something that actually serves the people instead of consuming them."
I thought of Vaelthorne burning. Of Lyralei falling beneath a volley of arrows. Of Captain Malzaun and his veterans throwing themselves against impossible odds so I could reach the throne room.
Of my mother.
How many people had died to bring us to this moment? How many lives had been destroyed by rulers who treated power as personal possession rather than sacred trust?
The crown stopped being simply a burden in my mind. It became something else entirely.
Responsibility that gave birth to hope.
