“With the support and respect of the Council of Elders and the former King and Queen of Atlantia, the abdication and ascension of the Crown have taken place.” Willa’s voice carried from the balcony, falling upon the people like soft summer rain. “It is a great honor that I introduce He who is born of the First Kingdom, created from the blood and ash of those who fell before him, the second son of the former King Valyn and Queen Eloana—Casteel Hawkthrone Da’Neer, the King of Blood and Ash.”

My breath caught at the title that belonged to the Ascended— to the Blood Crown. Casteel stiffened beside me, but the crowd erupted in shouts and cheers, roaring applause that echoed throughout the valleys and the streets like thunder.

Willa held up her fist, and silence fell. “He is joined by She who carries the blood of the King of Gods, the Liessa, and the true heir of Atlantia—Penellaphe Balfour Da’Neer, the Queen of Flesh and Fire.”

I jolted, my heart stuttering. There was silence, acute and so intimidating—

Howls came from behind, startling me. Long, keening calls that were answered throughout the city. Below and farther out, men and women, the old and young in mortal form, answered in deep, throaty howls ending in high-pitched whoops.

Then a loud thump came from the yard. A man had slammed his foot into the dirt. The woman beside him followed, and then another and another, just like the day I’d arrived in Saion’s Cove. But these were not just wolven. They were Atlantian and mortal, their feet pounding the dirt, and their fists striking stone, the sound reverberating through the yard, the streets, the balconies, and from the terraces. Many were on their knees, slamming their hands down.

“This…this is good, right?” I asked.

“They’re sending a message,” Eloana said from behind us.

“What kind?”

Casteel smiled down at me. “That they are yours. And that, if need be, they will go to war for you.”

War was what we were trying to prevent, but…I supposed their willingness was good to know. “You mean that they are ours.”

His smile grew, but he didn’t answer.

The slamming of fists and feet ceased, and silence fell around us. Tiny hairs rose all over my body as I slowly looked out at the city. Tens of thousands of heads were lifted now, watching us—or me—expectantly.

Casteel squeezed my hand. “They are waiting for your response.”

My response? “I have a feeling that a thank you would not suffice.”

Casteel choked on what sounded an awful lot like a laugh. I looked at him, my brows raised.

“Sorry.”

My eyes narrowed. “You don’t sound sorry.”

He bit down on his lower lip, but the corners of his mouth curved up. Not one but two stupid dimples appeared.

“You’re so annoying,” I muttered.

“Endearingly annoying,” he corrected, and his father sighed.

“More like it’s a good thing you’re pretty,” I grumbled under my breath.

Casteel tugged me back to his side, folding an arm around me. Before I could protest, he lowered his mouth until it was only an inch or so from mine. “More like it’s a good thing you love me unconditionally.”