“I can’t do it without you.”
“And you’ll never have to, my love.” He holds me there a moment longer. “For you, I would cross any darkness. But together, Mira… together we may light all the realms.”
“Vale, I know what we have to do.”
It’s only the first step. But isn’t that how all things start?
We hold each other through the night—stronger together than I could ever be alone.
When Soria readies me the following day, it is with purpose. Slipping into the ornate shoes of my newfound station, every detail is meant to inspire.
The gown I wear matches the color of my eyes, carrying the vastness of the ocean behind them. The mix of blue, green, and grey—I am the promise, and I am the storm.
I allow Soria to adorn me more than I would normally permit during the day. Today is not just any day. Soria fastens the final clasp, and the fabric settles over my skin with the weight of something consecrated. A draft slips in from the hall, carrying the scent of stone and morning rain. My pulse steadies. Every step toward the door feels like stepping into my own becoming.
I hold my head high as we make our way through the palace. The council is waiting. For their king, yes. But not him alone. We arrive together—two united in sovereign strength.
The men rise. They do not seem too surprised; after all, there was yet another attack in my presence. But the mood changes when Vale yields the floor to me.
The air stills—each held in a collective inhale.
I do not speak. Not yet. I turn to Odrin, who hands me a small ceremonial knife. All eyes are on me, but I do not flinch. Not at their eager gaze, not as I take the blade in my palm and slice clean through the flesh in one smooth motion.
The entire chamber gasps.
I return the athame to our right-hand commander and take the handkerchief from him, pressing it to my palm for only a moment as heat thrums beneath my hold. I raise my hand for all to see, the bloodied cloth now at my side.
They stare, astonished, as the line knits itself closed.
“I am Mira of Caerhollan. Queen.” They pause and bow, each looking up with wide eyes as the wound vanishes completely. “And the Blessed.”
Their murmurs can no longer be contained—turning to each other, fighting to make sense of it.
Vale silences them, his voice rising against the cacophony. “Our kingdom has been blessed by the gods themselves. Our queen is now truly one of us.”
I read a mix of reverence and disbelief alike. But more than anything: loyalty. True, there could be a traitor among us. Let them witness, though—side by side, king and queen—we are a force unlike any other.
“There are those who threaten not only the crown but quite possibly all that is good and right in the world. They do not stand a chance.”
One by one, the men of the council swear their fealty to Vale and me alike.
We waste no time. Before the day is done, it will be announced to all. The full truth of magic may remain a secret, but the might of Caerhollan—the power of a unified crown divinely blessed—will be known to all.
Nothing about this is safe. Yet everything I have found, all that I have gained, did not come from playing it safe.
The grand hall is a flurry of excitement with the news. The doors open, and a rush of warm air spills over me—nothing like the cold winds that once held me deep within the forest far from here. This warmth is alive with voices, hope, fear, possibility.
This time, I do not face it alone.
Ace stands with Soria’s aid, Odrin keeps watch, and Vale—Vale stays at my side. As commanding as ever, we take the thrones.
Publicly we declare this gift. I am one of their own—transcended from who and what I once was. A sign that they are not forgotten, but blessed.
Privately we declare our oath. To each other. To the very magic we now protect.
I promised Eryndor I would pay forward his gift. I honor that promise even more now.
Vale clutches my hand in his.
