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“Rise, King Knox Sterling Barda.” My voice carries to the farthest corners of the room, letting everyone know how proud and happy I am, how excited. “First of your name, King of Tirene, Protector of the Realm, Guardian of the Western Seas.”

Sterling rises, transformed by the simple addition of a circlet of metal, yet unchanged in all the ways that matter. He faces the assembled crowd, standing tall beside me.

The master of ceremonies strikes his staff again, and the hall erupts in cheers and applause that wash over us like a tide.

In the midst of the thunderous approval, Sterling leans close, his lips brushing my ear. “I know you’re happy to divide half the responsibility with me. Don’t even try to deny it.”

A grin breaks free, and I shift so only he can see my expression. “You know me too well. And yes, I think I’ll let you handle all the public speaking from now on.”

His eyes crinkle, and his mouth twitches with suppressed laughter, warming my heart.

The master of ceremonies steps forward once more, gesturing toward the great doors that lead to the balcony overlooking the central courtyard where thousands more have gathered. We join hands, our fingers intertwining with easy, practiced familiarity, and move forward together.

Before us, Rose appears as if by magic, blond hair bouncing with each step as she scatters petals from a woven basket. Kin dances overhead, pulsating with warm light that grows brighter with each passing moment. The child struts with absolute confidence, as if leading kings and queens through crowds of nobility is something she does every day.

As we glide toward the balcony doors, the roar from outside grows louder. Like approaching thunder, only continuous.

The noise announces the people of Tirene, who’ve congregated to view their new king.

My people. Our people.

The thought has my hand tightening around Sterling’s, and he squeezes back in silent understanding.

We reach the balcony, its stone balustrade carved with the ancient symbols of Tirene’s founding. The mass of expectant onlookers that fill the courtyard spill into the streets beyond.

The sight steals my breath.

Not because I’ve never dealt with crowds like this before, but because these people gaze at us with eyes that sparkle with anticipation.

Hope.

They’re practically vibrating with it.

After months of fear, after generations of war, after the gods’ manipulations, after everything we’ve endured, they still believe in the possibility of something better.

And standing here with Sterling’s hand warm in mine, so do I.

I step to the edge of the balcony and grip the stone balustrade with my free hand.

The sea of faces watches us. Waiting. Sterling’s steady presence serves as an anchor in a storm I no longer need to weather. I raise my hands, and the crowd falls into an expectant hush that presses against my skin more heavily than any silence I’ve ever known.

“People of Tirene.” My voice is carried by artful magic that Rafe has woven into the air around the balcony. “I present to you King Knox Sterling Barda, first of his name, your rightful sovereign and my equal in all things.”

Sterling steps forward to stand beside me, his wings halfway extended in a subtle display of strength and pride that makes my heart swell.

The crowd’s response is immediate and overwhelming. The roar of approval hits us like a physical force, vibrating through the stone beneath our feet. Names become chants, chants become songs, and the current of unbridled joy beneath it all brings unexpected tears to my eyes.

From the palace rooftops, roars join the chorus.

Dragons perch on every available surface, their scales glinting like living jewels in the midday sun. Dame occupies the highest spire, her wings spread wide as she joins the chorus, her hatchlings clustered tight around her front leg. Chirean is next to her, scaled snout pointing to the sky as he bugles.

Dozens of others join her, creating a harmonious crooning that reverberates through my chest. Some dragons are unfamiliar to me, visitors from other kingdoms, perhaps, or wild ones drawn by some instinct to witness this pivotal moment of change.

The singing of dragons mingles with the cheers of humans below, creating a symphony that feels ancient and new all at once. These creatures, so long hunted and feared, now perch openly on the palace roofs in celebration.

Every dragon here represents a future that wasn’t guaranteed, a life that might have been extinguished if things had gone differently in that arena.

Beyond them, I catch a glimmer of fiery colors. Phoenixes.