“You want to marry me?” he echoed.

“No Graces,” she said. “Only me. And we rule together, equal partners. We change this country. We open our borders, we teach women to read, we allow them to choose their own futures. Serina will stay in the palazzo as a sort of, well, a guard for me, I suppose. She says she wants to protect me. We’ll—we’ll call her an advisor. She’ll help us navigate the hazards.”

“I never wanted any Graces, not after you.… You want to marry me?” he asked again, in wonder.

She hit his shoulder. “What is wrong with you? This isn’t just about that. It’s—”

He grabbed her around the waist and kissed her, his mouth urgent and hot and sweet. She melted into the embrace, soft and warm as candle wax. Their tongues slid together, and her hands slid around his neck, up into his silken hair.

When he drew away, all his sharpness, all his intensity, had disappeared, replaced by a lovesick grin. “You love me. You must, if you’re willing to marry me. This wouldn’t be your choice if it were just for Viridia. You wouldn’t do that to yourself.”

She smiled, feeling a little spacey herself. “You’re right.” She kissed him again. “I wouldn’t.”

“Then I accept your proposal,” he said. “And your partnership.” He kissed her, and heat flared between them. He pulled her slowly down to him, until they were both lying on the bed, their arms and legs entwined.

A strange mix of emotions flowed through Nomi. Love, happiness…

Hope.

She was going to marry Malachi. She was going to be queen. She was choosing her future. And she knew, deep in her soul, she was choosing the right one.

FORTY-ONE

SERINA

SERINA SMOOTHED HER hands down her sparkling black-and-silver gown. It shone like a night filled with stars, and she loved the way it accentuated her curves. She drew up the hem and slipped the dagger hidden at her calf from its sheath. The twisted silver hilt fit her hand perfectly. It was a beautiful weapon, but just as sharp and deadly as the ugly, handmade knives she’d used on Mount Ruin.

“See? A warrior and a princess,” Val said, his gaze lingering on her exposed calf.

She returned the blade to its hiding place and fixed her dress. Looking him up and down in his silver velvet coat and black breeches, she grinned. “And you look like a prince.”

He bowed gallantly. “I suppose I am one now? As the paramour of the queen’s sister…”

“Soon-to-be queen,” Serina corrected. She moved closer, close enough to kiss him. He pressed into her, sending delicious shivers down her back.

When she pulled away, his eyes were dark and hot.