CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Somehow, even with the gathered crowd in the vast space of the throne room, the roaring fires and floor-to-ceiling windows behind the dais offering a view of falling snowflakes made the space feel cozy. Perhaps it was the absence of Preston’s and Nerissa’s disgusting presence and the lack of empty-eyed, glamoured humans haunting the castle. Maybe it was the sense of joy and celebration even during a traditionally solemn affair. Or maybe it was Garrick at my side, clasping my hand firmly in his, or Aspen perched on my shoulder, whispering commentary in my ear as I walked down the aisle created between the assembled guests, all silent as they watched me pass.
Beneath the light of sprites fluttering through the air, twirling with ribbons in Silverfrost colors, the Ashwoods sat together. Crown Prince Fitz’s expression was solemn as usual, but he gave a subtle dip of his head as I approached, his silent approval. At his side, his wife grinned without restraint, and I offered a quick smile back. I hoped in the future we would be able to visit one another’s kingdoms regularly. Having a fellow human in this world as an ally—and maybe even someday a close friend—would be invaluable.
Not far away was Charles, adorned in fae clothes that made him look strangely out of place. The fact that he’d stayed to witness this moment of mine, the fact that he watched me now with eyes glowing with pride...it made my chest warm. I bit my lip to keep my eyes from watering when he nodded to me, as if silently telling me that this truly was what I was meant to do, who I was meant to be.
And then I turned my gaze forward, toward the awaiting thrones. Both were wrought of white birchwood, engraved with delicate snowflakes and winter animals, and cushioned in rich blue velvet. The weight of those symbols was heavy on my shoulders, but not as heavy as it would have been without Garrick and Aspen with me. Without the Ashwoods as neighboring allies.
You were born for this, I reminded myself. What would Mother and my stepfather think of me now? What would my real father think, the fae man I’d never met who had died protecting both her and me? I hoped they would be proud.
“Keep your speech brief. And don’t forget your show of magic once you accept your crown!” Aspen urged as I ascended the steps.
It was the sage hag, the one who kept memories, who awaited us at the top of the dais, clothed in simple silver and blue robes that matched the Silverfrost banners strung in the beams overhead. Though her stooped posture made her shorter than me, when I paused before her on the dais, I felt small. Garrick released my hand and held his up for Aspen to hop into his palm, and then the two of them retreated to the edge to watch.
Slowly, I half-turned so as to face the crowd and the hag at once, my skirts rustling. My gown was all silver, only a few shades lighter than my hair, and glistening with lace and white beads and pearls in shapes that mimicked frost and snow. It paired well with the silver crown resting in an open box in the hag’s hands as she shuffled forward and lifted her voice.
“Dear court of Silverfrost—and guests from Ashwood and the human world—you are gathered here this morning to bear witness to a most momentous occasion. For decades we have longed for hope and peace and despaired that our land would fall to chaos. We thought the line of royal Silverfrosts had ended and that our destiny was darkness. But here we are, with a woman of mortal blood no less, who bears the powerful winter magic of her forebears, and most importantly, who carries the light of her ancestors. She’s saved us all, and for that, we owe her our gratitude and our allegiance. As she accepts this crown that is hers by birth and battle, please kneel to show your respects.”
My breath caught in my chest as everyone stood and dropped to their knees. Recognizing me. Even the sprites paused their dancing to perch in the beams overhead and dip into postures of deference. At the edge of the dais, Garrick knelt with Aspen in her pixie form at his side. She lifted her chin, just a little, to meet my gaze and wink at me.
“Florentia Silverfrost,” the hag intoned, drawing my attention back to her, “please step forward.”
I did so, and she lifted the crown from its cushioned place, setting the box on the floor so she could use two hands to raise the headpiece high. “Please, call me Ren,” I whispered.
She paused to grin at me, silently acknowledging she’d heard my request.
“Kneel to show your willingness to humble yourself before your people, to serve them first.” I did as she bid, tugging at the train of my dress to sweep it out of the way. “Now repeat after me.”
I followed her lead, vowing to serve and protect Silverfrost: “I accept this crown and take my throne with a heart dedicated to serving my kingdom. May the land accept me and strengthen me, and through my strength, may my kingdom and my people grow in power and might too. I swear to protect the Silverfrost people above all else, and to seal the door to the underworld, as is my gods-given duty.”
As the crown settled on my head, I stood and turned to my people, who rose and erupted into applause and cheers.
“Greet your new ruler,” the hag announced over the tumult, “Queen Ren Silverfrost!”
I smiled softly, grateful she’d agreed to use my preferred nickname in this moment, when formalities fell away a little. Lifting my hands, I leaned into my power and my tie to the land. Snowflakes, fluffy and huge, fluttered from the rafters, and everyone paused to ooh and ahh. Then I banished them with a thought, making them melt away as I cupped my palms and let my light shine, bright and powerful and hopeful.
What I prayed would be a symbol of the days to come.