I turn to him. “Do you really think our fate is written?”
He stills me with his hands, and I feel the answer in his touch before he speaks.
“Yes. But not the way you might think. We still have a choice. I feel the truth in these words, Mira. When I look at you, I see the flame. Even before I loved you, I saw it.
“But make no mistake—I choose you. My heart has found its equal.
“Was it fate? Destiny?” He holds my gaze. “Does it matter?”
I shake my head. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”
“Thank you for this. After everything that happened today—I needed this.” Softly, I add, “For what it’s worth… I choose you too.”
I feel lighter, more at ease, as we make our way through the private sitting room to the secret stairs. I stop and look out the windows of the overlook gallery, towering high above Caerhollan sleeping below, duty feeling less like an obligation and more like a promise my heart chooses to keep.
We continue on, arriving at the doors we each separately called our own but now we claim together. It is no longer Vale’s chamber I enter, it is ours.
Candles flicker throughout the room, their light dancing across the walls. Soft tapestries hang on the walls, lush green foliage in pots scattered about. Small changes to help make the space feel more intended for us both than him alone.
“Have I gathered everything you need, my queen?” he asks, rich with mischief and devotion.
I walk through the space, looking back at him as I admire all the additions made for my comfort. I stand next to the dressing screen, its golden threaded linen panels meant for privacy, and I see that Soria left the item I had asked her to.
“Almost everything I need,” my voice heady and sweet.
“What do you need then, my love? Say the word and it is yours.” He plays up the role, and I laugh.
“A moment,” and I slip behind the divider. The gown is heavy and ornate, but thankfully I’m able to slip out of it without assistance. Asmuch as I relish Vale undressing me, tonight I have a surprise. I fold the fabric in my arms, about to set it aside, when my fingers still.
A tear.
Small, but unmistakable—a clean rip just above the beading of the bodice. I bring it closer in the candlelight, fingertips brushing the frayed edge, the faintest trace of something darker lingering in the threads.
It falls over where my heart had been struck.
Where no wound remains.
I hold it a moment longer, breathing quiet.
“Do you need help?” Vale calls from the bed. “I have been known to be quite effective at removing your gowns, even if the tailor may never forgive me for the damage I inflict on his handwork.” With a rumble of his laughter, I set the gown and my own doubt aside. Whatever questions linger—they can wait. Tonight, I choose the life that was spared and slip into the intimate garment I had prepared for tonight.
I step out from behind the wall. Delicate night lace, sheer over my skin, doing little to hide the shape and contour of my naked body. I hear Vale let out an audible gasp at the wisp of fabric.
“Last night was our first as husband and wife. Tonight, you make love to a queen.”
I saunter over to him, slow, deliberate steps across the plush rug. He sits back in the center of the bed in only his trousers, arms wide across the pillows. Waiting, watching, his hunger no longer edged in restraint but reverence.
I lift the long flowing lace high at my thighs as I climb onto the bed and atop him, knees bracketing his hips. The candlelight dances across his bare chest, gilding the scars and strength I know by heart. I drag my hands slowly down the planes of his torso, feeling him tighten beneath my touch.
His breath hitches when I lean in close, my lips a whisper from his, but I do not kiss him. Not yet.
“I am not the woman you first brought into this place,” I murmur. “I have walked through fire. I carry a crown and a kingdom now.” I take his hand, placing it firmly over my heart. “And still, I am yours.”
His voice is gravel when he answers. “You were always a queen. The world is only just catching up.”
I press my mouth to his, slow and searing, a kiss that speaks of every vow we made and every inch of power I now claim. He lets me lead—at first—hands obedient where I place them, breath held like he’s in the presence of something divine.
But then I feel the shift—that deep, elemental pull between us. His hands slide to my waist, grip firm, reverent. He breaks the kiss only to press his lips to my throat, my shoulder, the space just above the lace.
