“We both will,” Cordelia promised.

The strong stone walls seemed to close in around them with her words … and something shattered in Cordelia’s chest.

It was the wall that she had built with all of her strength to hide away from the truth of her surrendered wings and everything else she had gone through ever since that first night in the forest when she had flown out of their castle and lost her first home for good.

She had stayed so strong behind that wall for so long.

She had tried so hard not to cry.

But when Mother tentatively held out her arms, Cordelia ran straight into them … and the tears that streamed out of her face to soak into her mother’s warm, familiar chest felt like rain falling onto barren earth, bringing the whole parched land back to life.

Two days later, the long, curving high street through Corvenne’s capital city was crowded unbearably full of people. How could so many human beings ever have squeezed into one place?

Flowers rained down from the windows of the tall, skinny white buildings, latticed in black beams, that leaned out over the street. If Cordelia could only have slipped into bird form, she would have shot through that shower of blooms and arrived at the grand Hall of Investiture in less than five minutes. Instead, she was paraded at a snail’s pace down the street among her siblings with all five adult dukes blocking them in, walking before and behind the family with serene, unhurried smiles.

Rows of soldiers acted as human shields around them while a massive crowd of shouting, singing onlookers fought to shove through all those lines of protection, hands desperately outstretched to grasp at Cordelia through the deafeningly loud confusion. Mother and Alys were waiting ahead, making a final check for safety before the ceremony of investiture could begin.

The sickly sweet stench of so many sweaty strangers mixed in Cordelia’s shallow breaths with the horrible, raw stink of human refuse from the open gutters that ran down the cobblestoned street. The Raven Crown pressed into her scalp, painfully heavy. Impossible to remove in front of everyone.

She was hemmed in on every side. She was trapped. No space to move, no clean air to breathe—

Rosalind’s hand closed around her elbow. “Chin up,” her sister whispered into her ear. “Remember, you’re their queen now. They just want a good look, to know who to thank for saving all their lives when you stopped that endless war.”

Cordelia couldn’t answer. She had to keep her jaw clamped shut or else her teeth would start chattering in front of everyone.

You promised, she reminded herself fiercely. You promised.

Connall frowned down at her from his position at the end of their row, his hands freed once more and his voice grave in her head. You’re safe now, little sister.

So are you, she thought back to him.