The feeling has shifted, too. It’s brighter and clearer. Much like my magic, it was muted, but now it glows with the full force of its brilliance.

“It’s definitely awake,” I say again, and Tristan gives me a look that tells me he understands what I’m going through. I think he might be the only person in the world who truly does.

“Then you need to talk to it,” he says, holding it out to me.

I place my cup of tea on the side table and wipe my palms on my thighs before I reach out and accept it with both hands. The moment my fingers touch the cool metal, a surge of lightning twitches under my skin.

This is nothing like my connection with the other Artefacts.

This Crown is a part of who I am.

Nadir wraps an arm around my shoulders.

“Take your time,” he says, but I shake my head.

“I . . . don’t want to. I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

He gives me a crooked smile. “Then go for it, Heart Queen.”

I inhale a sharp breath, watching the faces around the room.

“We’ll be here to protect you,” Willow says.

“This is probably going to change everything,” I say.

“Probably,” she agrees.

“But you should be used to that by now,” Mael says, and I snort out a laugh.

Then I place the crown on my head and close my eyes.

This time, there is no pause. There is no delay.

Immediately, I’m sucked into a whirling void, my heart leaping into my throat, and then I land, collapsing into a heap on a surface of pure white stone.

This, too, is different. This is no shapeless void spreading into nothing. I’m in a garden bursting with thousands of red roses, and my chest twists.

I am home.

I take in my surroundings for another few seconds before I push up to stand. The sky is a wash of pure blue dotted with fluffy clouds, the sun a perfect yellow sphere. Roses. Roses bloom in every direction as far as I can see. A white stone path interspersed with benches along the sides stretches before me, and my breath catches when I notice a figure standing in the distance.

“Hello?” I ask as the figure approaches. I see it’s a woman with long black hair wearing a sweeping red gown. Her dark eyes burn with emotion, and my heart wedges in my throat as she draws nearer, tears misting my eyes.

It’s been so many years, and I was a child the last time I saw her, but her face lives in my memories and . . .

It’s my mother.

“Lor,” she says, stopping a few feet away with her hands clasped at her waist. “I’ve been waiting for you.”