Chapter 59
Chapter Fifty-Nine
It was only a moment, a brief flash while I leaned over with the book in my hand, but Ace assures me without a doubt he was close to reading what was on the page. Whether fatigue grew too strong or whatever magic seemed to flow between us grew too weak—it faded as quickly as it occurred.
Minds still reeling with possibilities, I eventually tell Ace goodnight and insist he at least try to rest.
With a healer keeping watch through the night, and a promise that Tarris would not be the one tending to the bandage, Ace tells me goodnight with a glimmer of hope behind his eyes—an ember I hold dear as I make my way to my chambers.
A guard follows a safe distance behind me now.
A silent shadow I suspect is going to be the new normal.
They grant me space once I am secure behind doors, but they are never far.
The sharp sting of betrayal still fresh, I remind myself there is little they can do when danger hides behind friendly faces.
Still, I do not shun the sentinels. The truth of my own nature still a closely guarded secret, they work to protect my believed-frail mortal life.
Though in light of recent events, all those I care about exist in the same danger.
How many objects imbued with dark magic are pointed in our direction?
How many hearts have been turned away from reason, corrupted toward a hand that seems aimed at claiming power no matter the cost?
Vale sees the worry lingering on my face when I close the door behind me and move toward him. He rises, ready to spring into action if need be. “Is Ace alright?”
My demeanor shifts, realizing how my thoughts—so apparent on my face—have alarmed him. “He’s fine,” I calm him, “more than that, in truth.”
“Ace does tend to be more than quite often.” He opens his arms to me, and I begin to tell him about the prophecy, about Ace nearly reading the page.
“You should have seen it, Vale. The way his wound seemed to respond, the way he looked at the page, it was—”
“Magic.” He lets out a low laugh, awestruck at the wonder our lives now seem to hold.
“But what of the prophecy?” he asks, voice steadying with solemn intent. “You said you felt it.”
“I did. I can’t even explain it—though I suppose that is nothing new. So much of what has happened defies explanation.” I open the book to the final page and hand it to him with careful skepticism. He shakes his head.
“No, nothing,” he says and returns it. “Will you read it to me?”
I share the passage once more.
A gift once squandered, worthy to none,
Sleeps in silence, though never gone.
Elements buried, magic to earth,
Awaiting the hour of rightful rebirth.
Bestowed upon unnatural crown,
Forever young, in beauty bound.
Until the world, through peace aligned,
Receives the gift the gods designed.
Through keeper’s flame and broker’s hand,
The spark returns to heal the land.
Not theirs to hold, but theirs to guide,
Till what was lost will once more rise.
“That certainly sounds like you,” he says regarding the words.
“Like us. You and I, Ace, Soria, Odrin—all of Caerhollan. Gods, Vale—the other realms too. Do you think this could be it? The hour of magic’s rebirth?”
He takes the book from my hands, carefully setting it aside on the desk behind him.
One hand finds its place at the small of my back, anchoring me to him.
The other lifts my chin so my gaze does not waver.
The heat of his body so near counters the chill of the night air. Doubt has no place here right now.
“I think,” he says, his impossibly deep eyes holding me dear, “you are extraordinary. Not just for your connection to magic—which, Mira, make no mistake, is a miracle in and of itself. But for you. Who you are. Your heart. Loyalty. Courage. And yes, care.”
I smile at him and feel myself start to pull away, overcome by the flood of emotions and still raw from the turmoil of these past days.
I place a hand over his heart. The very heartbeat I honed in on praying for him to survive that first fateful night. The steady sound I have so often slumbered to with my head on his chest. His steadfast courage keeps my inner fire lit.
He speaks again. “Whatever fate or enemies have in store for us, our destiny is still our own. Whatever you decide, I will not leave your side. We are in this together, my flame.”
My chin trembles, but the smile that forms is sincere. I don’t want to speak my doubts or my fears, so I say the one thing I know above anything else.
“I love you, Vale.”
“And I love you, Mira. Forevermore.” A gentle kiss seals our most sacred truth. “We are in this together.”
In his arms, I understand it at last—love is not the soft part of me.
I once feared loving him might be my ruin.
Perhaps it was. I am irrevocably changed—for the better.
I allowed myself to follow my heart. Listen to the call.
Answer with my heart open. The truth I carry into every darkness: If fate comes for us, it will find us united.
And nothing forged of shadow has ever undone the light of two hearts that choose each other.
He wraps his arms around me, and I feel how much stronger we are together. We can face anything. We will face it as one.
“It won’t be easy, will it?” I ask, no longer trembling.
“Probably not. But Mira, I know you well enough to know—anything you set yourself to is absolutely worth it.”
Whether the words of the prophecy are meant for us or merely myth, I already know how they have touched something in my own heart. A truth and responsibility I not only accept but honor.
“I can’t do it without you.”
“And you’ll never have to, my love.” He holds me there a moment longer. “For you, I would cross any darkness. But together, Mira… together we may light all the realms.”
“Vale, I know what we have to do.”
It’s only the first step. But isn’t that how all things start?
We hold each other through the night—stronger together than I could ever be alone.
When Soria readies me the following day, it is with purpose. Slipping into the ornate shoes of my newfound station, every detail is meant to inspire.
The gown I wear matches the color of my eyes, carrying the vastness of the ocean behind them. The mix of blue, green, and grey—I am the promise, and I am the storm.
I allow Soria to adorn me more than I would normally permit during the day.
Today is not just any day. Soria fastens the final clasp, and the fabric settles over my skin with the weight of something consecrated.
A draft slips in from the hall, carrying the scent of stone and morning rain.
My pulse steadies. Every step toward the door feels like stepping into my own becoming.
I hold my head high as we make our way through the palace. The council is waiting. For their king, yes. But not him alone. We arrive together—two united in sovereign strength.
The men rise. They do not seem too surprised; after all, there was yet another attack in my presence. But the mood changes when Vale yields the floor to me.
The air stills—each held in a collective inhale.
I do not speak. Not yet. I turn to Odrin, who hands me a small ceremonial knife. All eyes are on me, but I do not flinch. Not at their eager gaze, not as I take the blade in my palm and slice clean through the flesh in one smooth motion.
The entire chamber gasps.
I return the athame to our right-hand commander and take the handkerchief from him, pressing it to my palm for only a moment as heat thrums beneath my hold. I raise my hand for all to see, the bloodied cloth now at my side.
They stare, astonished, as the line knits itself closed.
“I am Mira of Caerhollan. Queen.” They pause and bow, each looking up with wide eyes as the wound vanishes completely. “And the Blessed.”
Their murmurs can no longer be contained—turning to each other, fighting to make sense of it.
Vale silences them, his voice rising against the cacophony. “Our kingdom has been blessed by the gods themselves. Our queen is now truly one of us.”
I read a mix of reverence and disbelief alike. But more than anything: loyalty. True, there could be a traitor among us. Let them witness, though—side by side, king and queen—we are a force unlike any other.
“There are those who threaten not only the crown but quite possibly all that is good and right in the world. They do not stand a chance.”
One by one, the men of the council swear their fealty to Vale and me alike.
We waste no time. Before the day is done, it will be announced to all. The full truth of magic may remain a secret, but the might of Caerhollan—the power of a unified crown divinely blessed—will be known to all.
Nothing about this is safe. Yet everything I have found, all that I have gained, did not come from playing it safe.
The grand hall is a flurry of excitement with the news. The doors open, and a rush of warm air spills over me—nothing like the cold winds that once held me deep within the forest far from here. This warmth is alive with voices, hope, fear, possibility.
This time, I do not face it alone.
Ace stands with Soria’s aid, Odrin keeps watch, and Vale—Vale stays at my side. As commanding as ever, we take the thrones.
Publicly we declare this gift. I am one of their own—transcended from who and what I once was. A sign that they are not forgotten, but blessed.
Privately we declare our oath. To each other. To the very magic we now protect.
I promised Eryndor I would pay forward his gift. I honor that promise even more now.
Vale clutches my hand in his.
As I venture into the unknown, I do so with one thing certain: I will not rest until what was lost is restored—not for us alone, but for all who choose light over shadow, care over cruelty.
Once, I stood apart, wondering if I belonged at all. In the village. In these halls. Even in my own skin. I made peace with my otherness—solitary, but never confined.
Now I sit upon the throne and understand what I could not then.
I was never meant to remain outside.
This place—these people—
are my home.
Vale’s hand tightens around mine. An equal heart—at last, no longer wandering alone.
From the moment our paths collided, the shape of my life shifted. Now, before a kingdom that calls us its own, I understand—
If fate comes for us, it will not find me standing apart.
It will find us united.