It was just a ring of gold in my hands.
Though in someone else’s hands, the crown could be a stepping stone to greatness. The laurels of a righteous champion. The promise of a breaking dawn.
I cast out my magic until I heard the flutter of flipping pages hiding in the hallway—listening in.
“Brietta,” I called.
The guards moved away from the door. Brietta cautiously stepped past them, wringing her hands in front of her. Her eyes dropped from my bare neck to the crown in my hands.
Her face blanched. “Sera, how are you—?”
“Ready to finish what Freya started?” I lifted the crown a little higher.
Her eyes watered and her hand pressed against her lips. Her head shook once…
…but then she gracefully lowered to her knees.
A smile pulled at my lips as I placed the crown on Brietta’s auburn brow.
Footsteps clicked in the doorway and we both looked up. Annalisa’s hands pressed against the doorframe. Her mouth dropped the moment she saw the crown on Brietta’s head.
Derrick’s voice was low. “Am I still an ass?”
Brietta and I turned around to face him. He still knelt on the floor beside the broken collar and Alastar the Conqueror’s discarded armor. His eyes were heavy as he looked at Brietta.
For the first time, Brietta was speechless. “I-I, you…” She took a deep breath and straightened her spine. “I suppose not.”
Derrick hummed. “I assume you have no regnal name in mind? Unless youdidplan to depose me all along?”
Brietta’s cheeks turned pink as she shook her head. I could not help but smile.
Derrick rose and took a step toward Brietta. I took a step back, giving him enough space to hold out his hand. Brietta looked up, held her breath for only a moment, but accepted his help.
He smiled softly as he lifted her off the floor. “Brietta the first, then?”
She nodded and Annalisa and I exchanged glances. Derrick was building the bridge between them all on his own.
He straightened the crown on Brietta’s head. “All hail Brietta.”
“All hail Brietta,” I repeated.
“Only if I have to,” Annalisa said with a smirk.
Brietta’s eyes glittered as she looked over her shoulder at Annalisa.
“Now we just have to figure out what to do about Uncle Ragnar.” Derrick spat out the name like it stung his throat. He picked up the pieces of the steel breastplate off the ground.
I swallowed. “He is dying. Slowly. My mother poisoned him.”
Derrick flashed a wicked smile. “Good. One less thing to worry about.”
A weight pulled in my chest. General Ragnar Hyton would not go down quietly. If he had spent two decades crafting his plan, he had to have an escape route—one final trick to play.
Derrick walked back to Brietta and attached the two halves of armor around her chest.
Brietta’s cheeks went as red as her hair as Derrick snapped the latches on the sides of her ribs. “You may hold the crown of Lycaster in your own right, but many outside these walls will not like it.” He secured the latches on Brietta’s other side.
“But you are the ruling Duchess,” Annalisa said as she leaned against the door frame. “You are aHyton.Make them accept it.”
