“That would be lovely,” I say. If we ever get that chance.

“Congratulations,” Bronte says warmly, and even Linden gives us both a firm nod.

“Come on,” Amya says. “Let’s have a drink.”

At the back of the cavern, they’ve set up another table with some bottles of wine and a bit of food. I’m overcome by the effort they all went to for the two of us.

We all gather, toasting the day and not thinking too hard about what comes next. The map that I found in Rion’s room waits for us. We’ll have tonight to celebrate, and then tomorrow, it will be time to confront what I suspect will be the final test. The moment that saves us or breaks us forever.

“Oh no, where’s the Armata?” Willow frowns, peering at the table. “Elswyth sent it. She said it’s an incredibly rare bottle and perfect for such an occasion. I must have left it with the boxes when we brought everything in.”

She backs up. “I’ll go grab it. Be right back.”

She bounds away and disappears out of the cavern. I smile at her retreating form, feeling so lucky to have her.

Tristan comes over and wraps an arm around my shoulders. He looks at Nadir, and the two study one another. Finally, Tristan holds out a hand for Nadir, who pauses before he accepts it.

“I know you and I have had our differences, but I’m trying to move past them,” Tristan says. “My sister has always been a good judge of character.”

“Tris—” I say, and he waves me off. “I might have been too hard on you, Aurora Prince. Thank you for everything you’ve done to help Lor. I understand those were your father’s actions, not yours. It wasn’t fair to judge you so harshly against them.”

Nadir’s face briefly remains expressionless before he dips his head.

“Lor is fortunate to have you,” he says. “Anyone would be honored to call you a brother.”

They both smile, and I also try not to think about how perfect this all feels because an axe swings over us, ready to chop it all away. I shake my head, attempting to push away these maudlin thoughts. This is a happy occasion and there will be plenty of time for worrying soon enough.

We continue chatting, and a few minutes later, I realize Willow hasn’t returned with the Armata. I cross the cavern to look for her. Rounding the corner, I enter the tunnel where the flickering candles struggle to illuminate the oppressive darkness.

A stack of boxes sits against the wall, barely visible beyond the perimeter of the lanterns. I pick one up and proceed down the tunnel.

“Willow?” I call. “Willow! Where did you go?”