“You will welcome Queen Zella.” His command booms off the high ceilings.

Everyone springs into action, clapping and whistling.

That’s better.

I can’t contain my small smile as I descend the stairs. My slippers pad over the soft dark-blue carpet, and the marble railing is smooth under my fingers. I hold eye contact with Keryth until I make it to the bottom, and he finally leaves his place to greet me.

“You look handsome,” I whisper, finally feeling at peace as I slip my arm around his. I’ve only seen him in formal attire once—when he asked my father for permission to marry. To be honest, I prefer the leather pants.

“There’s no sight more beautiful than you as my queen,” he responds.

He guides me to the throne, but before I can sit, we have to go through the coronation.

Luckily, it’s a short process. Keryth does the honors, uttering words in the old Fae language before producing my new headpiece.

Only, it’s not new.

I blink at it.

“My mother’s crown?” I whisper-yell. “How did you get it back?”

“These past few days,” he murmurs, low, “I had my men scouring the area where you lost it. They found it sitting on the staircase, as if the forest set it there just for you in case you came back.”

My eyes sting with threatening tears. Laughing, I wave at my face. I don’t want to cry in front of everyone, even if it is because of happiness.

“Thank you,” I say, overwhelmed with gratitude.

Keryth grins as he finishes the last line of the ceremony. “Queen Zella, you shall have what is rightfully yours.”

He places the familiar weight on my head, and then it’s done.

Music starts up, and the guests are allowed to mingle and eat. No one is supposed to dance until we do, but right now, I need a moment to take it all in.

At least my seat is so close to Keryth’s we can hold hands. I gaze up at the ceiling. The dome is lit with a stardust glow all around the border, and directly above us, I can see that an artist has started painting a mural. So far, it’s just a sliver of the Night Realm sky with a partial hand holding the hilt of a sword.

My ears twitch when I hear a small group about twenty feet away speculating about whether I cast a spell on Keryth to make him think we’re mates.

I scoff loudly. The sound draws the attention of everyone within hearing distance, but I don’t care. That’s just ridiculous.

First of all, it’s not possible to bewitch someone that way. If it was, everyone would get to choose their fated partner.