CH. 75 The Crown and The Garden
The palace feels alive.
Music thrums through its halls, spilling into the courtyards like liquid gold. Nobles whirl in bright fabrics. Courtiers clink glasses. Knights boast about heroic things they absolutely did not do.
The celebration of Sorien’s coronation—and the very dramatic public engagement—has officially begun.
Drew stands at the edge of the grand ballroom, dazed.
People keep glancing her way.
Whispering. Admiring.
Trying to catch her eye.
Drew panics every single time and hides behind Sorien’s cloak like a shy gremlin.
Farro swoops in dramatically.
“Future Queen! How does it feel being the most gorgeous woman in the kingdom?”
Drew: “Wretched. I want to crawl under a table.”
Gavin appears with a glass of wine.
“You’ll get used to it. Maybe.”
Hegar pats her shoulder.
“She won’t.”
Drew nods vigorously.
“I absolutely will not.”
Sorien watches all this fondly from beside her.
She can feel his gaze even without looking—warm, steady, grounding.
And that’s why she misses the group of noblewomen approaching until Farro hisses, “Incoming! Hide me, they want to dance!”
Drew nearly bolts.
But the noblewomen are not here for Farro.
They bow to her.
Her.
“Lady Andromeda,” one of them breathes, “congratulations.”
“You’re radiant.”
“You and the King make a perfect pair.”
Drew nearly dies on the spot.
“I—um—thank you— I’m trying not to faint—”
Sorien steps in smoothly, resting a hand on the small of her back.
“Forgive us,” he says with an easy smile. “We must attend to other matters.”
Translation:
My fiancée is at maximum social capacity. Retreat. Retreat now.
He guides her away with gentle pressure.
Drew exhales shakily.
“You saved my life,” she mutters.
“I know,” Sorien murmurs.
They weave through the dancers and slip out a side door—
into the moonlit palace gardens.
Quiet.
Cool.
Blooming with night jasmine.
The air smells of flowers and faint summer rain.
Lanterns float above the paths like suspended stars.
Drew breathes easier immediately.
“Thank the gods,” she whispers. “I thought someone was about to ask me about court etiquette. Or politics. Or fashion. Or—”
“You did wonderfully in there,” Sorien says.
“I tripped twice.”
“No one noticed.”
“YOU noticed.”
“Yes,” he admits softly. “I notice everything about you.”
Her heart stumbles.
They walk until they reach the central fountain—a marble phoenix rising from water that glows faintly blue.
Drew stops.
So does Sorien.
The music from the ballroom fades, replaced by the gentle splash of water and the hum of magic in the air.
Sorien turns toward her fully.
His crown glitters in moonlight.
But his gaze…
His gaze is warm and unguarded.
“You know,” he says quietly, “when I knelt earlier, I wasn’t afraid.”
“You weren’t?” she breathes.
He shakes his head once.
“No. The only frightening part… was wondering if you’d say no.”
She laughs, breathless.
“I almost did! Out of sheer panic!”
“I noticed,” he murmurs.
She covers her face.
“I wanted the ground to swallow me.”
He gently pulls her hands away.
“Don’t hide.”
His thumb brushes her cheek.
A soft, grounding touch.
Drew swallows.
“Why me, Sorien? You could have anyone. Someone graceful. Someone elegant. Someone who doesn’t talk to spiders—”
“I don’t want anyone else,” he says simply.
Her breath catches.
His hand slides up to cradle her jaw, warm and steady.
“Drew…
I love the chaos that is you.”
She blinks hard.
“Oh.”
He smiles faintly.
“Oh?”
“I just—”
Her voice wobbles.
“—I also… love you. Probably. Possibly. Definitely. No take-backs.”
Sorien’s breath hitches—just slightly.
He leans closer.
“So,” he murmurs, “may I kiss you?”
Drew stares at him.
“Please do it before I pass out.”
Sorien doesn’t hesitate.
He cups her face—gentle but certain—
and kisses her.
Warm.
Soft.
Sure.
Like he’s memorizing her.
Drew melts instantly, hands curling in his cloak.
Everything in her becomes fireworks and melting sugar.
The fountain glows brighter behind them.
The lanterns bob gently above.
Even the night breeze hushes itself.
When they part, Drew is breathless.
Sorien’s forehead rests against hers.
“That,” he whispers, “was overdue.”
She nods weakly.
“I want to do it again.”
He laughs softly—
a sound she wants to bottle and keep forever.
And so he kisses her again.
Slow.
Long.
Certain.
Farro’s distant voice suddenly echoes from the ballroom:
“SORIEN?! WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GO? WE’RE STARTING THE TOAST—OH. OH. EWWWW.”
Gavin adds dryly:
“Finally.”
Drew laughs against Sorien’s lips.
Sorien sighs.
“They’re never going to let us live this down.”
She grins.
“I don’t care.”
He kisses her one more time, just to prove the point.