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I shift my weight uneasily. The reality of being the sole phoenix-born dragoncaller in existence and the strongest fire user in generations comes with plenty of downsides. My heritage granted me an isolated and ignorant upbringing and molded me into a pawn kingdoms squabbled over.

Sterling’s gasp yanks me from my brooding. “Look, how original! A bird!” His voice rings with faux surprise as he lifts a delicate glass sculpture from a velvet cushion.

Rolling my eyes, I gesture around at the dozens of bird-related presents scattered across the tables. Some appear subtle, others ostentatious. All are intended to pay homage to my phoenix-blessed heritage.

“How many birds does that make?” As I do the math, I sweep a lock of hair behind my ear, the streaks of gold threading the brown glinting in the sun. “Seventeen?”

Seventeen glass birds. Just what everyone needs.

“Eighteen.” Sterling sets the sculpture down carefully. “And technically, they’re phoenixes. After all, you incinerated Narc’s bones with your phoenix fire. People remember that.”

With a sigh, I drag my fingers along the edge of a silver tray. “We all played our part.”

“But you’re the one who dropped into the broken earth.” When Sterling recites the line from the prophecy about me getting buried alive, the mischievous sparkle in his eyes vanishes. “You torched his bones with phoenix fire to save us all. That’s what people are celebrating. Hope rising from the ashes.”

Rising from the ashes…the same way I did. Literally.

I rub my arms to fight off a shiver. I didn’t just plummet into the earth. I died down there, just like the prophecy stated I would. Then, I somehow came back to life on the ground above where I disappeared.

My gaze drifts to the window.

In the courtyard below, children play in the dappled shade of ancient umberheart trees. Among them, little Rose Lockwood, Agnar’s six-year-old niece, runs in circles. Her blond curls bounce with each step, and a small dancing flame hovers faithfully over her right shoulder. The other children maintain a slight distance. Not enough to be obvious, but enough that I notice.

“I may have saved the world, but at what cost?”

Sterling watches Rose as her innocent laughter floats up to us. “You saved her too.”

After Rose survived my phoenix fire, after she completely healed from the drachen’s corruption, a small flame started hovering at her shoulder. The tiny blaze doesn’t harm anyone or anything, not even the flowers she loves to pick, but its presence marks her as different. A mystery no one can explain. Maybe my grandfather could have helped solve this puzzle.

The pain—a sudden stab between my ribs—catches me off guard. Eldor Gentry’s burial was over four months ago, just twenty-four hours after Dowager Queen Alannah Barda’s. My grandfather and Sterling’s mother died on the same day, murdered by the same traitors on the Royal Council of Tirene. Even though we were right there, we couldn’t save them.

Not a single day passes where I don’t feel the void created by the loss of my beloved, trusted family. So much loss concentrated in such a short time.

Too much.

“Rose is happy.” Sterling wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Agnar says she and her mother are settling in well in the east wing. They’ll stay until we find them a suitable home.”

I nod, watching the girl spin in circles and the flame streak through the air like a comet. “A lot of places are filled with displaced survivors. Not just the palace. There’s been so much destruction. So much death.”

“We’ll finish rebuilding. But first,” Sterling pulls me closer, both hands now enveloping my waist, “it’s time for celebrations. Something that will give hope to our people. Our queen’s wedding.”

I push up on my toes and kiss him, softly and sweetly. “And their king’s ascension.”

His pupils dilate. In a fluid motion, he sets me on one of the tables, knocking gifts aside with a sweep of his arm. Goblets and trinkets scatter, some thumping on the rug, others clattering against the marble floor.

I should care about the potential damage, but in a matter of seconds, his mouth is on mine, and suddenly nothing else matters.

He kisses me soundly, slowly, deliberately.

As always, my body reacts like this is our first time.

My blood heats as Sterling invades my mouth with his tongue, first tasting, then ravishing. His palms frame my face before sliding down to my neck, and his thumbs trace sensual circles on my shoulders.

He nips at my lower lip and pulls back, his expression contemplative.

I still. “What is it?”

The corner of his mouth rises. “You’re going to have to practice dancing, you know.”