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The room was… grand. Tiles in shades of purple and blue similar to the roof were laid in a herringbone pattern. Floor to ceiling, arched windows filled the wall across from the door, with dark green velvet curtains framing each pane. Lighter, nearly translucent, curtains sat nestled between the heavier panels, filtering the sunlight. The bed taking up the left wall was enormous, a four poster with its own gauzy curtains pulled back, revealing light green bedding and enough pillows in different textures and sizes to make a lifestyle influencer jealous. It looked soft enough I might just sink entirely into it, as did the white rug that sat beneath it. The wall immediately beside the door held a large six drawer dresser that stood nearly to my chest, its dark wood worn with use. To the right was a large sofa with a chaise and a wingback chair. Centered between them, a low coffee table with a few books scattered on it. A door nestled on the far side of that wall stood ajar, and I could just see the base of a porcelain tub.

The saddlebags from the pack horses Emma and James had led were piled just inside the door, waiting to be unpacked. Before I could figure out which one had a change of clothes, Amaria already had them in hand and that dark blue dress I’d worn the first day draped across the chaise. While they helped me dress and rearrange some of the trinkets in my hair, I told them what happened, how Sloane and I had intended to reconvene after getting off of Magefall to figure out how to get home.

“Except she doesn’t want to go home,” I said as Amaria tightened the laces of the stays and then slid the dress over my head. I adjusted the sleeve’s finger loops around the bracelet I still hadn’t taken off while she messed with the neckline.

“The Votarist said she completed the Freia rites a few days ago. In her message, she sounded… happy. She said the people there are really nice and have already accepted her as part of their group. And… and I’ve spent my whole life making sure she was safe and happy and able to pursue whatever dream she wanted. I couldn’t be the one to take it from her.”

Amaria raised an eyebrow. “That’s very selfless.”

I shrugged away the almost compliment. “And I… might have confessed I wanted to stay, too. He relented when I admitted that and then explained I can’t ever let someone figure out I didn’t actually consent.”

“He was right about that.” Shelby set down the brush and offered me a mirror. “Callum would be held to the same responsibility for the breech of the treaty as Sepra would if it were to become known. Most likely, he would have to forfeit his life.”

Color drained from my face before I could look at the styling Shelby had adjusted.

“We all know the risk.” Amaria circled my wrist. “We won’t breathe a word of it to anyone. I imagine he and Vincent will come up with a plan for when people ask of where you’re from. Though that will not be as interesting as the fact you joined with your sister for most who will be curious enough to ask.”

Swallowing, I glanced at myself in the small mirror. Shelby had added a few more silver leaves to my hair and had placed a set of long silver and blue topaz earrings that coordinated moderately well with my bracelet in the piercings I had done when I turned eighteen and could finally make a choice for my own body by myself. Most of my attention fell to the translation tattoo, though. Phoebe had said she’d fixed whatever had been wrong, though she’d been speaking in Nyndrec, so I still wasn’t sure the specifics. It was either that or the addition of her own translation that had changed the tattoo. It was still the same dark purple, but some of the slashing lines had softened into spirals and flourishes. In the center of it all, where there hadn’t been anything before, was a small raven, its beak pointing toward my ear.

I traced the new lines with a featherlight touch, nervous they’d hurt the way the initial ones had, and was quietly pleased to realize they were entirely innate. They weren’t even raised like a normal, healing tattoo would be.

“It’s pretty,” I said after a minute. Then a memory bubbled to the surface from the Passage. “Reuben mentioned there were different patterns and that he hadn’t recognized mine. Is this one of them?”

Amaria nodded. “I’m not an expert or anything, but I’m pretty sure it’s the symbol mages from the House of Calyr use.”

The door opened before I could decide if I wanted to ask what that was. A school, maybe? Phoebe had mentioned being requested for the school earlier. Callum strode into the room like he owned the place, his strides long and his body collected. While he wore the same clothing he’d donned this morning before leaving Dawncross, there was something more to him now, a presence I had no way to name. He twisted a strand of hair away from his face, arranging it overtop of the circlet just behind his ear and pinning it with one of the pins with a leaf decoration without looking at a single mirror.

When he glanced toward Amaria and Shelby, they rose without a word shared between them. Amaria circled my wrist as she passed by me, and Shelby smiled wide enough her entire face lit up.

“We’ll see you downstairs,” she said.

While they left, Callum twisted back another strand of hair behind his other ear with the same brisk efficiency and then smoothed a few pieces that had gotten caught on his pointed ears. The movement made me realize he didn’t have any of the additional piercings Reuben and Shelby did.

Before I could decide if I wanted to ask about it, the door closed with a soft click. All at once, the air grew charged, a thread of awareness centered in my stomach pulling taut, like in that small home in Wolfrest. Callum wasn’t nearly as tentative or withdrawn as then, though. He closed the distance between us, that bag in his hold, and dropped to a crouch in front of me. His eyes swirled like liquid gold again, and wisteria surrounded me, cocooning me like a hug in truth.

Without a word, he pulled something from the satchel and held it out to me. It was a circlet similar to his. Or at least, the front portion of it. The lotus with the opal in the center was the same, as were the black-silver metallic leaves and flourishes. Where his continued around his head—fitted intentionally to him alone, I had no doubt—this one’s twisting floral motifs narrowed to a single metal band on either side that were connected by a piece of black gossamer that left the sizing adjustable.

Princess.

Another tangled emotion tried to well, and I shoved it into another box, more forcefully than any others today. I wasn’t about to have a meltdown before whatever this feast was. Something formal and probably with a load of cultural understandings I wouldn’t know if my life depended on it.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a coronation?” I asked, still not reaching for the circlet.

A corner of his mouth curved. “There will be. This is not your true crown, just what is worn when wearing half or full-court dress, like tonight.”

“Is this full?” I gestured to the heavy, luxurious dress.

He shook his head. “Half. I’ll have a seamstress commissioned for a small trousseau of full-court regalia for when we travel on to Embercrest.”

I had no idea what to say to that. His hands were careful as he set the circlet against my forehead and nestled the ends into the styling Shelby had done. He tightened the strip of gossamer and then wove the excess into the bun with sure, confident movements. When he held out his hand and helped me stand, that thread pulled on my stomach again, and my breath caught. His scent pulsed from him, and he squeezed my hand for a heartbeat before dropping it and taking a half-step back.

“You…” I cleared my throat and turned toward the wall of windows. The sun had started disappearing below the horizon, its light spreading across the lake and turning it golden. “You live here?”

Callum shrugged. “I have this room, yes. I also have rooms at the Crown’s Manor.” He took a small step closer. “The Manor is not as private, though, and the staff much larger.”

I couldn’t help but frown. “You thought you were sending me back when you told Vincent to have this,” I gestured to the fancy dress, “here.”

He seemed to understand what I was asking. “I didn’t wish for so much attention afterward. The Manor is technically a private residence—no court meetings are held there—but the reality isn’t the same. While word would have spread rapidly once you were given to the Votarists, I would have had some control over the way it happened by having the feast here.”