He held me so tight, I wasn’t sure he’d ever let go. I surrendered and held him back when I felt it—the silent anguish that shook through him. “Bloom, I can’t do it. How am I supposed…” His choked words ended in a groan, his hands shaking as he grabbed my cheeks and pressed his wet lips to my forehead.

For seconds that ruined, he breathed me in, then forced the crown into my hands and himself to move away. “Go,” he ordered and turned his back to me. “Go before I tell them to fuck off because I choose you.”

I rocked on my feet, unable to see through the tears.

At the doors, I gripped the wood as he rasped, “Because you are my choice, Astrantia.”

I wouldn’t have known what to say even if I could’ve managed to speak, so I made myself leave. I made myself walk as what he’d said sank deep while I descended the stairs of our tower.

Steadying myself with a trembling hand upon the stone outside of my paint parlor, I struggled to breathe, knowing he’d meant it when he said he’d chosen this for me. In his own twisted and cruel way, almost everything he’d done had indeed been for me.

The crown felt too heavy in my hand. My heart far too heavy to carry in my chest.

He’d intended for me to keep it. I couldn’t. I couldn’t take any part of this life with me if I was truly doing this. I wiped quickly at my cheeks but soon gave in when the tears refused to stop. Leaning back against the stone, I slid down it and bit my fingers to keep from making noise as what I was doing rattled through me.

It was right, but that didn’t mean it was easy.

Some minutes later, I took the stairs down to Carelda’s rooms.

After one knock, she called for me to enter. Her eyes widened when she saw me, and she rose from the bed. “Forgive me, my queen. I was distracted. I didn’t realize it was you.”

I smiled at Helvectus, who was squashing grapes beneath a bowl on the floor.

Then I sniffed and motioned for her to sit. “That is no longer who I am.” I pulled the door closed behind me so Helvectus didn’t escape to the stairs beyond. “And that is why I’m here,” I said, revealing the crown from behind my back. “This belongs to you.”

“You’re crying,” she breathed, her eyes lifting from the crown to me. Disbelief scrunched her features. “You’re truly leaving?”

I crossed the room to where she sat on the edge of her bed. “We all know it’s well past time I did, but eventually”—I placed the crown atop her head—“he will earn your forgiveness.”

She reached up. “Astrantia, I cannot—”