The hem of her dress begins to burn against the hot embers at her feet. It’s disturbing to see my mate on fire, but I know the flames won’t hurt her. Zella’s ability to manipulate heat is rare and special—not all faeries are immune to their own destruction, but she is.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, a tear streaking down her cheek.

Releasing a breath, she allows the fire to leave her body. It bursts out with a downward explosion.

On instinct, I throw my arms up to protect myself, but somehow, she makes sure the blast avoids my body as if I’m covered by an invisible forcefield.

The rest of the garden isn’t so lucky.

Before I know it, flames blaze all around us. It spreads through the hedges, and the ivy burns like dry kindling.

We need to get out.

Apparently, Zella’s thinking the same because her wings unfold as she runs to me. Holding hands, we take flight, leaving the fiery maze. I look down, and it’s surreal to see the design alight with orange and yellow.

It’s so bright, in fact, that Delaveria is lit up as if it’s the Day Realm.

“Only you could bring day to night,” I attempt to joke as I glance at Zella.

She lets out a half-sob, half-laugh. “Your gardens. I’m so, so sorry.”

“They’ll grow back.”

“When Silas stabbed you with the spike, I thought—I thought—”

“I know. But he didn’t get my heart.”

“Something has to be done about you two.” She shakes her head. “I won’t have a dysfunctional kingdom.”

I’m about to tell her I agree when she flinches at the sight below. All our guests are outside the palace. They’re crammed onto the balcony, drawn to the light and commotion. Some are shocked, covering their mouths in horror. Some are afraid, screaming and holding onto their loved ones.

And now they’ll be even more uncertain of my new bride.

We land on the stones below them next to Silas and Tehya.

“The party is over,” I announce loudly, though it’s hard to hear my own voice over the roar of the fire behind us. “Thank you for coming tonight, but now Queen Zella and I have matters to discuss.”

The guards help with herding everyone back inside, urging them to leave. It takes several minutes for the great hall to clear out.

Meanwhile, I call on the clouds to bring in a storm. Thunder rolls, and rain comes down on the maze, putting out the fire.

Once our guests are gone and the garden is nothing but smoldering ash, Silas turns to me. His eyes cut toward Zella. “She’s dangerous.”

I could be insulted, but I’m not. He didn’t say it with fear or disgust—it was more a statement of respect.

“She is,” I confirm with pride.