Nevander’s heart eases. They need to talk more—this won’t be resolved until they’re alone and safe—but he believes they’ll be okay. And the realm hasn’t stopped moving as they hover overhead. There are matters to handle, above and below.
“You’ve managed quite well on your own,” Nevander says.
“Not on my own,” Seren corrects. “I struck a pretty good bargain. Summer’s magic—in exchange for my service.”
Nevander’s breath hitches with the weight of that commitment. “Tell me you negotiated a limit.”
“You know I can’t lie.” Seren kisses beneath Nevander’s jaw, soft above the edge of his armor. “Someonetaught me that some obligations are worth it.”
Worry and pride combine into a heady elixir. In the face of Seren’s certainty, it tastes like belief.
“I’m done running,” Seren continues. “I’m ready to belong somewhere. But on my terms. I’m not waiting for anyone else to give me a crown. Not even your mother.”
That surprises a laugh from Nevander. “It was still dangerous.”
“I knew you’d say that.” Seren kisses Nevander’s jaw again. Then the corner of his lips. “I also knew it would work. Lysandra made the crown for my great-grandfather. Which means the First Queen managed without it.”
He says it without any trace of arrogance, which makes the comparison all the more breathtaking.
“You’re incredible,” Nevander says. “You always have been.”
Seren hugs Nevander tighter. “I’m starting to believe you’re right. And I’d like to stay up here with you, but maybe we should land. I’m feeling dizzy.”
Nevander would like to sweep Seren away, where nobody else can hurt him. But they have business on the ground. “Yes, my prince.”
They descend slowly, past familiar treetops turned newly vibrant. Surveying for danger reveals a scene holding its breath. Guards wait in the northwest gate. More guards and servants gather atop the walls to witness. Other creatures gather from the goldwood forest. Deer and mossbadgers, squirrels and pricklebirds.
Blue and gold flowers bloom everywhere Seren’s feathers landed.
Nevander alights in the stretch of ground between palace and forest. “Stay close,” he says, reluctantly easing Seren to his feet. “Just in case—what is this?”
Lord Gevain of Summer’s Edge scowls from a glowing red circle. The magic reflects in his glossy hair. He snarls something inaudible.
A short distance away, a battered Tansy waves bloodstained fingers. “Binding circle. I’ve been reading a lot of weird books. Kill him quick—I can’t hold this long.”
Nevander would like very much to do so, but that isn’t his call. He’s missing too many details. “What exactly happened?”
Seren squeezes Nevander’s hand before moving to Tansy’s side. For the first time, the distance doesn’t hurt. Light still dances like a crown around his head, and his presence lingers in Nevander’s grasp.
“Lord Gevain tricked me into his haven and offered a lifebond,” Seren says lightly. As Nevander’s blood boils, Seren adds, “I turned him down.”
“Incredible rejection,” Tansy adds. “I’m taking notes.”
Nevander’s already gesturing for the guards to approach. A haven. Of course, that’s why the mirror didn’t work.
“What shall be done with him?” Nevander asks, hand burning for his sword. But he’s learned a few things since last night’s duel. “We can lock him up while you consider.”
Two ritekeepers take over the task of binding Gevain. A third joins them for extra power—controlling a high fae lord is no easy feat. A guard heads for Tansy, a healing kit in hand.
Seren steps back to give the guard space at Tansy’s side. “What would you advise?”
“Kill him,” Nevander says. “His trespass is too great.”
And no other outcome will ease Nevander’s rage.
Seren takes a deep breath, and in that moment, he transforms. Like a weight settles on his shoulders, not crushing but grounding him. More than Summer’s immense magic, it is the power ofchoicethat turns Nevander’s prince into a king.
Clear-eyed, Seren says, “I will judge him from the throne.” Then he walks, crowned in light, toward the palace gates.
