CH. 74 The King Who Chose the Witch
The bells of Gazaar toll with a sound that shakes the bones of the kingdom.
Low.
Ancient.
Triumphant.
Today is coronation day.
The golden banners of Resan flutter from every tower. Trumpets sound across the palace grounds. The entire capital gathers within the grand square—nobles in shimmering robes, soldiers in polished armor, peasants craning their necks just to witness history.
Drew stands quietly among the front rows, beautiful in the way she has always been but only recently allowed to exist in daylight.
Her dark hair glows like polished obsidian.
Her gown—gifted by the Supreme—flows like midnight ink.
Her heart?
A panicking frog tap dancing in her chest.
Then the trumpets blast again, and the world shifts.
Because Prince Sorien steps into the light.
---
Sorien walks up the ancient steps, flanked by his brothers.
Gavin tall, regal.
Farro proud and smiling.
All three united, at last.
The Seer lifts the crown—made of white gold and phoenix feathers—and for a breath the wind stills.
“Sorien Thorne of House Resan,” the Seer intones,
“You have shown courage.
Wisdom.
Spirit.
Integrity.
Leadership.
Endurance.
And Truth.
“You stand not only as a prince—
but as the heart your kingdom has sought.”
The crown descends.
Touches Sorien’s brow.
The crowd erupts.
The new King rises.
And his eyes—
of all the thousands watching—
go straight to Drew.
Drew stiffens.
“Oh no,” she whispers.
“Oh NO—don’t you dare—”
But he’s already moving.
---
The King walks down the steps of his coronation platform, the sunlight catching on the crown like liquid fire. Guards instinctively part for him.
Every eye follows him.
Drew realizes, too late, that he is headed directly for her.
“Oh gods—Leonardo, save me—” she whispers to the axolotl, who is NOT here and cannot help her.
Sorien stops only when he stands before her, close enough that she sees her reflection in his crown.
“Drew,” he says softly—
but somehow the entire plaza hears it.
She wants to melt into the stones.
Or spontaneously combust.
Either is fine.
Sorien kneels.
THE KING.
KNEELS.
IN FRONT OF HER.
Farro screams so loudly behind him that several nobles faint.
Gavin mutters, “Oh, he’s really doing it.”
Drew’s brain shuts down.
Her soul leaves her body.
The tarantulas back home probably sense the disturbance.
Sorien takes her hand, voice steady, warm, impossibly sure.
“From the first trial, you held me upright.
Through every illusion, every truth, every hellfire—
you were my anchor.”
Drew shakes her head violently.
“I—I—Sorien—Everyone is STARING—”
“They can stare,” he says gently.
“Let them know who their King chooses.”
The crowd gasps as he continues:
“You have seen me weak.
Broken.
Lost.
And you stayed.”
His thumb brushes her hand, careful, reverent.
“You call yourself cursed…”
His eyes soften.
“…but Drew, you are the miracle that saved us all.”
Her breath catches.
The plaza is silent.
The wind stills.
And the King of Resan asks:
“Drew—Andromeda—
Will you stand beside me?
As my queen?”
Drew stares at him.
At the kneeling king.
At the thousands of witnesses.
At her own stupid heart doing cartwheels.
Then she blurts:
“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!”
Gasps everywhere.
Sorien blinks.
“I—what?”
“You’re asking ME?
ME? In PUBLIC?” she hisses.
“I don’t even know how to QUEEN! I lose arguments with my own tarantulas!”
He stares at her helplessly, as if this—THIS—is the moment he should have expected.
“Drew,” he says softly. “Just answer the question.”
Her pulse thunders.
Her eyes sting.
The world feels unbearably bright.
So she takes a breath—
one deep, shaking breath—
and whispers:
“…Yes.”
Sorien exhales like he’s been drowning for years.
He rises.
Pulls her gently into his arms.
And the crowd explodes into cheers so loud the palace windows rattle.
Gavin yells, “ABOUT TIME!”
Farro shouts, “MY brOTHER IS MARRIED TO A GODDESS, I’M SO HAPPY—”
Hegar wipes a tear, muttering, “I knew it, I absolutely knew it…”
Drew hides her burning face in Sorien’s shoulder.
He whispers against her hair:
“Welcome home, my love.”
And for the first time in her life—
Drew believes it.