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Like music from another world, the droplets keep falling.

The fires continue to burn, beautiful and bold.

And my heart keeps breaking until it’s not breaking anymore. Until it’s so full that it can’t be anything but whole.

The water and light surround us, the music of it all softer than the sound of my heart. We are wrapped in this glow, this cocoon of impossible love and unthinkable need. The droplets kiss our skin. We kiss each other.

We kiss like we’ll never have the chance again.

We kiss like nothing else in the universe matters.

We kiss until I don’t know where I end and he begins.

There’s a thousand-pound weight on my chest, a bone-deep fatigue, and anxiety splitting me in two different directions. But I’m with Sterling, close and warm and for the moment, very much alive.

That’s something I refuse to give up.

Chapter Forty-Nine

The winter morning sun pours through my window like honey, bathing the palace in golden light that belies the chill in the air. Below, the courtyard vibrates with life, a stream of visitors flowing through the gates in colorful rivulets.

I press my palm against the cool glass while watching their arrival. Nobles and commoners alike, drawn by curiosity or duty or the simple human desire to witness something extraordinary.

First my wedding.

Then a masquerade ball.

And tomorrow, the Champions Match.

The thought of getting married—an impossibility made flesh—still catches in my throat sometimes. The girl I was, kidnapped and raised in an enemy kingdom, could never have imagined becoming queen, let alone marrying the man she loved. And now that dream hovers tantalizingly close, just beyond the nightmare we must first survive.

The reception line.

Maybe we should have scheduled the Champions Match first.

But Sterling and I both agreed, since there’s a very real possibility one or both of us could die in the battle, that we would do so as husband and wife.

Morbid, but true.

Guards line the palace walls, their armor gleaming in the sunlight. From this height, they look like tiny precise figurines. The banners snap above them. Tirene’s colors are vibrant against the cloudless sky, demanding allegiance from the wind itself.

How many of those guards will survive tomorrow? Will any of us?

“Your Majesty,” Rhiann murmurs from behind me, her voice carefully neutral. “The gold thread or the silver for the final touches?”

I turn from the window, forcing myself back to the present moment. My gown for the ball lies draped across the bed, a cascade of midnight blue silk that shimmers with embedded magic. I trace the intricate embroidery at the collar, where stylized flames will glow when activated in a subtle display of my fire magic, designed to both impress and intimidate our guests.

“Gold.”

At a nod from Rhiann, the seamstress begins the delicate work. Around her, the chamber bustles with quiet purpose. Servants arrange jewelry for tonight’s feast, prepare the ornate mask I’ll wear to the masquerade, and set up kits of makeup. None of them know that a war council’s plans lurk beneath these wedding preparations.

Outside, a wild dragon I’ve never seen before soars overhead, its emerald scales catching the sunlight. Through the dragonbond, it sends down warm, content emotions. While the dragons don’t understand weddings, they understand courtship flights. This is close enough to one that they all want to come witness it.

The crowd below gasps and gestures upward. Worry twinges within me for the hatchlings hidden safely away in the mountain cave with their parents.

If our plan fails tomorrow, they’ll be among the first targets of divine vengeance.

We cannot fail. We will not fail.