“What do you propose?” I asked, my chest aching with a pain I couldn’t explain.

“It’s a tomb,” he said. “And it’s time it was sealed.”

Gripping my hand, he led me down the river toward the gates, and as we walked, I felt the heat of magic manifesting. When we were almost at the River Road, the roar of falling rock shattered my ears. Twisting to look over my shoulder, I watched as column after column collapsed, the rock of Forsaken Mountain falling from the sky to smash into the city below. Elysium disappeared, then the library, then the palace. The glass gardens – so many long years of labor – destroyed in a moment. Tears flooded down my cheeks, but Tristan didn’t look back.

Not once.

Instead he drew me into the tunnel of the road, his magic stalling the collapse of the mountain until we stood on the beach, sunlight on our faces. Then he turned back to look at the rock slide that had given him so much purpose and nodded once.

Trollus was gone.

I’d returned to my laboratory to pack what things I wanted while Tristan had gone to the castle to give Aiden the keys to the kingdom and to deliver the Élixir to Zoé to use as she wished. I sang as I packed, thinking about the plans we’d made on our ride back to Trianon. The places we’d go. The things we’d see.

“You’re beautiful when you smile like that.”

I turned to see Tristan leaning against the door frame, coat unbuttoned and shirt loose at the throat. His hair was longer than he usually kept it, inky black where it brushed against the white of his collar. Silver eyes unearthly bright and beautiful, and for the first time that I’d known him, free of concern. “Like what?” I asked.

“Like you’re happy.”

“Then expect to see it often,” I said, crossing the room. “Because I am.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I rose on my tiptoes and kissed him, relishing the feel of his lips against mine. The heat his touch sent racing through my veins.

“I love you,” he murmured into my ear, the warmth of his breath making my body ache. I parted my lips to respond in kind, when the smell of summer washed across my face. I turned in his arms in time to the tear open wide, and the King of Summer stepped into our world.

“Your Majesty,” Tristan said, and to my surprise, he stepped away from me and bowed low.

I stood my ground, goosebumps rising to my skin despite the balmy temperature of the room.

The King inclined his head, then turned his attention to me. “You owed me a debt, Cécile de Montigny.”

I lifted my chin. “And I have paid it. You have your people back.”