Chapter 56
Daisy
The feast blurred in a haze of clinking glasses, roaring toasts, and stolen glances with my soon-to-be King.
I had laughed until my ribs ached, cried into Talia’s shoulder, and held so tightly onto Ezra’s hand under the table that I’m pretty sure I saw him wince more than once.
I was grateful they were here for this. I was so upset they couldn’t be there for the wedding, so them being here to see me become a queen—it was surreal.
Seeing their faces at the grand hall with all of the different leaders had me chuckling.
So quickly, all of this had become normal to me—these people with magical powers, who looked so ethereal and strange.
I’d started to forget that this wasn’t normal for people to witness, so seeing them so wide-eyed when glancing across the tables…
It was a stark reminder of just how much my life truly had changed in such a short amount of time.
But now, as Sariya gently takes my hand and leads me from the grand hall, the weight of it all presses into my chest.
We slip into my chambers—Sariya, Elyistria, Talia, Ezra, and me.
The room’s softly lit by the sconces holding flickering candles, the midnight-black velvet canopy above the bed glittering with stardust, looking like a night sky.
My body aches from tightly wound emotion and consuming too much wine, but my soul trembles from what’s coming. I was about to become a queen. Again.
“Holy shit,” Talia whispers, “this entire castle is insane.”
Ezra flops dramatically onto the velvet bench at the end of the bed. “I want to live here. I want to die here. I want to be reincarnated as that throw pillow.” He laughs.
Sariya giggles at him. “I’m sure you’ll be welcome any time.”
Talia sniffles, looking around the room. “This is all so fucked. You’re all freaks, and I love you so much.”
I burst into laughter, wiping away my tears before pulling her into a tight hug. “Thank you for being here.”
As if summoned by the emotions in the room, Lyvia steps through the door. Her lavender hair braided back, her delicate hands clasped before her. She looks so small in this room of goddesses, but her presence fills something inside me.
“Lyvia,” I breathe, hurrying to her. “I was hoping you’d come.”
“I wasn’t sure if I should,” she whispers. “There are… more important people with you now.”
I cup her face, making sure her pale violet eyes meet mine. “You are important, Lyvia. You’re not just my maid, you’re my friend. Be with me tonight, please.”
Lyvia’s cheeks flush, matching the colour of her hair. “Only if I can still help dress you. Let me help my queen ascend.”
My throat constricts, a lump forming instantly at her words. I nod, hugging her tightly.
She takes my hand and leads me toward the dressing screen that’s been put up in the corner of the room.
And just to the side, next to the roaring fire, a mannequin stands, the gown draped over it.
It’s breathtaking. Midnight-black silk that shimmers with starlight, as if the cosmos had been dusted across the fabric itself.
The embroidery around the hem dances with magical flame imbued into the design, curling in white, alive, and flickering like liquid silver.
The corset bodice shimmers like obsidian armour, sculpted to my form with sharp edges, only to be softened by translucent black lace that falls like smoke down the arms.
“This…” I gasp. “This isn’t mine.”
Elyistria steps closer, her silver-blue eyes shining with unshed tears. “It was Dasmyrin’s design. She sketched it centuries ago but never lived to wear it.”
I turn to her in shock. I couldn’t wear this. It was hers to wear, not mine. Even though technically I am her, but I’m also not. Gods, my heart’s hammering.
“It will suit you well, sunshine queen.” She whispers.
“I can’t,” I sniffle. “What if I’m not enough. What if I fail her legacy? To wear her dress, only to not live up to her name.”
My breaths start coming in heavy, my pulse quickening as the anxiety and pressure threaten to shatter me entirely.
Elyistria moves closer, cupping my face, forcing my head to look up at her.
“You don’t have to live up to her. You are her, and something more,” she murmurs. “Reborn, rewritten, but still her. And you are enough as yourself, Daisy.”
Sariya’s hand softly brushes my hair from behind. “You were chosen by fate, little flower. A fate that even Elyistria couldn’t choose. That kind of power does not make mistakes.”
Ezra sniffles from across the room. “Is it weird that I’m crying? I’m literally ugly crying. You’re going to look like a goddess, Daze. You’re gonna be fucking amazing.”
“I love you all,” I say, my lower lip trembling.
They help me dress slowly. Lyvia laces the corset with steady hands, whispering words of reassurance as her fingers work.
Talia fluffs the shimmering train, pride shining in her amber eyes.
Sariya fastens a delicate chain across my collarbones, connecting to the points at each side of my corset, charms of sunshine and ashroses clinking along the silver metal.
When they finish, Elyistria steps back, her voice hushed. “Let them remember who and what has risen from the ash.”
I stare at myself in the mirror, the reflection stunning me.
I wasn’t the broken girl in a cheer outfit anymore.
I wasn’t anything like her. I was a reborn queen, coming to reclaim her throne.
My eyes are lined with dark-black kohl, my lips painted dark red.
Even my cheekbones have been carved out with a subtle contour.
My silver-streaked golden hair flows in waves, two strands pulled back and tied at the back with two long hairpins, one with my newly created sigil sitting on top, the other with Korithax’s.
I let out a steadying breath—and with one final glance at my reflection—I square my shoulders, ready to enter a brand new chapter of my life.
The hall outside the throne room hums with low voices, sconces lighting up the space with a delicate glow.
Guards in ceremonial black stand rigid, their expressions unreadable.
I walk between Sariya, Elyistria, Ezra, and Talia—each one a piece of my story, my strength.
Lyvia clings to my hand until the very last second, our fingers trembling as they part.
The guards bow as we approach, and I spot Korithax waiting alone before the great gilded doors. Each of my friends give me a kiss on the cheek before slipping through the doors into the throne room, offering more words of reassurance.
I turn and face my future King. His armour is black and crimson, layered and sharp, like it was forged for the battlefield.
His obsidian cloak hangs heavy behind him, clasped with twin silver serpent heads.
But it’s his eyes that steal my breath. His jaw goes slack, his shoulders drawing back like I’d hit him straight in the chest.
“Daisy…” he breathes, voice raspy. “You look like a goddess kissed by Hell and the stars.”
My heart lurches. My throat is dry as brine, and I don’t know why the words slip out, but they do. “Are you sure you want me as your queen?”
He doesn’t hesitate. Two strides and he’s in front of me, pressing his forehead gently to mine, our noses brushing.
“I’ve wanted you since the moment you looked at me in your apartment like I wasn’t a monster,” he says, voice barely audible. “You saw the worst in me. I tried to break you. I called you weak, fragile, gods I was awful… and yet, you stayed.”
His words are deep, peeling back the final layers of doubt curled around my heart.
“I love you,” He says softly. “I’ve loved you longer than I knew. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took so long to say it. I’m sorry I tried to protect you from myself, from this world, instead of just choosing you.”
I lift a hand to his cheek, my thumb brushing the edge of his jaw. “I think I’ve loved you since the day you killed Ethan,” I whisper. “I didn’t know it then, but… my soul did.”
His eyes flicker, obsidian shining faintly as he lowers his mouth to my forehead, pressing a tender kiss. For a moment, time stills. We just breathe. One last quiet moment before the world changes.
He pulls back, straightens, and extends his hand to me. “Let’s go claim what’s ours.”
I slip my hand into his, and we turn together as one. As the guards open the doors to the throne room, I know everything ahead will test us. But I also know one thing for certain—he’s mine, and I’m his. No gods, no fate, will ever take that from us.
The throne room stretches wide and endless, lined with hundreds of beings.
Fae, demon, fallen angels, creatures I don’t even have names for.
A thousand eyes turn as Korithax and I walk down the aisle, hand in hand.
My steps are slow but steady, my grip tight around his large hand.
Whispers swirl around us, soft gasps echoing through the hall.
The thrones rise before us—his is jagged and regal, forged from the deepest obsidian and dark power.
It pulses with magic, deep and endless. But mine…
mine is something else entirely. Pale onyx streaked with silver, carved with ash roses and suns, white flame flickering gently along the edges.
It’s rage and beauty and legacy, all wrapped into one breathtaking seat of power.
Elyistria steps forward as we ascend the dais, radiant in a gown of pale gossamer. Her voice cuts through the murmurs with weight, silencing the room in an instant.
“To rule is to be bound. Blood to blood, magic to magic. This union is not just of flesh and crown, but of soul and flame.”
Korithax holds out his left hand, and I follow. Elyistria slices our palms with a curved blade etched in ancient runes. I don’t flinch as the blood blooms across my hand, waiting for the moment everything changes.
Korithax places his hand atop mine, our hands clasping and our blood mingling together.
Magic erupts between our palms—black fire crashes into me as white flame lances into him.
We both gasp as the power tears through our bodies.
His flame doesn’t burn; it hums, filling me with heat, making my skin feel alive.
It makes my soul sing, and my breath come in soft, short pants.
I stare into Korithax’s eyes, and in them I see everything: the power, the pull, the bond. Power pulses outward like a shockwave, causing flames to flicker, rippling across the room. Gasps echo around us as our joined magic floods the space.
We release our hands, and Elyistria turns to me. A crown of flame sits in her palms; white fire flickering across the golden spires. She lowers it to my head with a soft bow, the flame not burning at all. It feels right, like it has always belonged there.
Korithax drops to one knee, and the room collectively stills.
“A king never kneels,” someone whispers from the crowd.
I glance down at him in confusion, but he only stares up at me with fire in his eyes.
“A king never traditionally kneels to his queen,” he says, voice echoing through the room, loud and clear. “But I will spend the rest of my life bowing to you. Worshipping you like the queen you are.”
The silence in the room breaks into a thunderous roar. “ASH BORN,” they cry, “ASH BORN!”
He rises, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as the room quietens once again for their king to be crowned. Elyistria crowns him with a circlet of black thorns, his hellfire flickering across the vines as it settles across his brow.
I don’t need to think twice as I drop to my knees before him, bowing my head for my king. My husband. My mate. My love.
The crowd erupts again, wild and deafening. Screams, cheers, stomping feet, shaking the floor beneath us. Korithax holds out a hand, helping me rise, and together we turn to face them. My heart pounds, a steady drumbeat against my ribs. These are our people. This is our kingdom. This is our home.
Elyistria steps forward once more, voice ringing like a bell through the air. “All kneel for the Queen and King of Hell.”
And they do. Every single person drops to one knee as we sit upon our thrones, side by side, our fingers intertwined. The moment we settle, fire erupts from the spires of our thrones; his roaring in hellfire, mine in divine white flame.
“We did it,” I whisper as our guests rise to their feet, cheering for their new rulers.
“We did it, little flower,” Korithax murmurs, brushing his thumb along my knuckles.
I glance at him, and he’s already watching me.
That rare, soft smile playing on his lips.
Everything we had faced, everything I had faced…
it all felt worth it to be sitting here beside him as his queen.
The worries of how well I’ll do as a ruler, how well I’ll do as the reborn queen, still sit heavily on my shoulders.
But for now, I was going to bask in this moment and enjoy this with Korithax.
I lean towards him, placing a soft kiss on his lips, savouring his taste and his touch.
I moan softly at the connection, the butterflies in my stomach chaotically dancing as I claim him in front of our kingdom.
But just as he pulls me in to deepen the kiss, a violent quake splits the air.
We jerk apart quickly, both of our eyes wide.
“What the hell was that?” I ask, scanning the hall as the noise dies.
The doors to the throne room explode open on a blast of wind, every torch sputtering.
“No.” I whisper, a wave of ice-cold dread slamming into me as figures step forward through a misty haze.
At the front, clad in silver armour that gleams like moonlight, is Seraphiel.
“What?” She sneers, voice dripping with venom. “No invite for us?”