Once safely inside the palace, she lifted off the crown with both hands and handed it to Amon, exchanging it for the lighter tiara.

She climbed the grand staircase to the third floor and turned down the corridor, trying not to trip over her coronation robes, her attendants trailing like fancy plumage.

Thousands of people had collected in the courtyard below—men, women, and children. No doubt some had come because they’d never been invited into the castle close before and they were curious. But many of them wore roses pinned to their clothing, some of them real and others fantastical constructions of fabric and lace, bright spots of color on gray and brown.

When Raisa appeared at the railing, a thunderous shout went up from the crowd. “Rai-sa! Rai-sa! Rai-sa!” and “Briar Rose! Briar Rose!”

Raisa extended her hands, and the crowd shouted, “Who are you, and what brings you to temple today?”

“I am Raisa ana’Marianna, Gray Wolf Queen of the Fells,” she replied, and the cheering started up again, dying away only when she raised her hands for quiet.

“Peoples of the Fells! A coronation is an ending and a beginning,” she said. “The ending of a period of uncertainty, the beginning of a new era. The end of Marianna’s reign, the beginning of Raisa’s. The end of a princess, the first steps of a queen. The end of childhood”—she paused, wrinkling her nose—“and now I suppose everyone expects me to be a grown-up.”

Laughter rolled through the crowd.

“In some ways I will never grow up. For instance, I continue to believe in miracles. But I know that miracles come to those who work very hard. I pledge that I will work very hard for you.”

Another cheer went up.

“I continue to believe in the people of the Fells. Although we have had hard times, and there are threats on every side, we will overcome any adversary if we will just work together—Valedwellers, wizards, and Spirit clans. You listen to each other, and I will listen to you.

“Finally, in addition to hard work, I believe in parties.” This was greeted by a roar of approval. “Tonight we celebrate. I will be dancing, and I hope you will be dancing too. Thank you!”

As she turned away, cheers hammered her back.

And so it was done. Raisa was queen of the Fells—thirty-third in the new line of Hanalea. She’d been born for this—and raised to it. She’d fought for it, and at times she’d thought she might die for it. She had a long history of tragedy and triumph behind her, and a lifetime of hard work ahead of her. It was time to get started.

E P I L O G U E