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She lifts her head, displaying a pointed chin and full cheeks. Her black eyes are hidden, yet I feel the weight of them searching my own. “I am…sorry.”

“So am I.” The words surprise me as they leave my lips, but I realize they’re true.

I’m sorry for many things. I’m sorry that I will never again trust the gods with the innocent faith I once had. Sorry that I now see their flaws, their petty rivalries, their willingness to sacrifice mortals for their own gain. Sorry for the loss of something I never knew I valued until it was gone. What is seen can never be unseen.

The comfort of believing in benevolent beings watching over us.

Nyc is silent for a long while. Then she inclines her head, a movement so subtle it might be imagined. “The darkness watches over those who walk in light as well.” With those cryptic words, she melts back into the shadows at my feet.

I stand alone again, surrounded by the aftermath of battle but somehow isolated in a bubble of strange calm.

Though I’m not truly alone.

I sense Sterling before I see him, standing a few paces off, arms crossed over his chest. He hasn’t interfered with these divine audiences, but he’s been watching, ready to step in if needed. His wings are folded against his back, his posture alert despite the exhaustion evident in every line of his body.

Beyond him, Elijah Durand weaves through the crowd of brave mortals who joined our fight. He’s taking names, promising help, triaging wounded. His natural authority is apparent even as he limps from an injury to his calf.

Sterling crosses the space between us with fluid grace. He pulls me close, his arms encircling me with careful strength, and rests his chin on the top of my head.

I exhale into the rhythm of our hearts beating against each other’s chests and breathe in the familiar scent of him. Sweat and battlefield grime, yes, but beneath that, there’s something uniquely Sterling. Leather and soap and a hint of spice.

Home.

My arms tighten around his waist, holding on as if he might dissolve like Ziva if I let go.

“So,” Sterling tips his head down, hands sliding to my lower back, fingers interlacing just above my hips, “were you scared?”

I scoff, though my heart has barely slowed from the bone-deep terror of facing godly wrath. “Oh, please.”

“Yeah.” His lips quirk into that half-smile I love so much. “Me neither.”

We gently touch our foreheads together and keep ourselves there, sharing breath, sharing space. Somehow, the gesture is more intimate than a kiss. A reconnection that reaches beyond the physical.

“Want to crown me king and start our honeymoon?” He’s so casual, he might be suggesting we get something to eat.

I pull back a few inches, fighting a smile. “Oh, I don’t know. I need to wash my hair, and⁠—”

“Read a history book?” His eyes dance with humor despite the fatigue shadowing them.

I meet his gaze directly, and our playfulness fades into something more serious. “I think maybe I can be a good queen without doing all the things I hate.”

He lifts a brow. “You think?”

“Maybe there’s need for a warrior queen.” The words feel right as I say them. Not a reluctant ruler bound by duty, but a fighter who defends her people with sword and fire alike.

“There’s always need for warrior women.” Sterling bends toward my lips. “Especially for me.”

My heart swells with emotions too complex to name. “I’m sorry about the guardian thing,” I whisper against his mouth. “We’re together, even if it’s just for one lifetime.”

His hands tighten on my waist. “I didn’t want to be a guardian if it meant centuries without you. Maybe there’s a way⁠—”

A huffing, irritated breath interrupts us.

“You two are exhausting.” The Guardian towers nearby, leaning on his sword with his perfect features arranged in an expression of supreme annoyance. “Haven’t you read the addendum to the covenant? Either of you?” His stare scolds us, as if we’re naughty children.

Sterling and I exchange a slow glance before shaking our heads.

I ask the question for both of us. “There’s an addendum?”