Four Months Later
“You look beautiful,” Xander said, wrapping his arms around Ellaryn as she stood before the mirror, finalising her outfit.
Her cheeks blushed.
“Thank you,” she said, looking down at the details of her emerald dress. It brought out her eyes, and the gold embroidery matched the thin line of her crown as it sat atop her raven hair. “I just can’t wait for this to be over.”
“It will be soon. After the ceremony tomorrow, you won’t have to deal with anything like this again,” Xander said, his blue eyes sparkling at her.
“You promise?” Ellaryn asked.
Xander leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I promise. Rehearsal dinner tonight and then the ceremony, that’s it.”
She took the crown from her head and stared at it, deep in thought. In her eyes, she didn’t deserve to be queen.
She didn’t want to be—but she did it for Xander.
He had asked her for her hand in marriage, and she couldn’t refuse. Cinala needed to be strong again, needed to be seen as ruled by lovers rather than fighters. That was why they were to be married.
“You know they’ll never accept me,” Ellaryn said, her eyes watering slightly as they went over the same conversation they had been circling for months.
“That’s not true,” Xander said gently. “Just give them time. They’ll come around.”
Just then, a knock at the door broke them from their thoughts.
“Come in,” Ellaryn said, glancing toward the door. It was different now than it had been—more colourful. The whole castle had changed. The shadow wall was broken, and light beamed through Cinala once more.
“Wow!” Sailen said as he entered. “You look like a princess.” His dark eyes widened, his suit a little too big for him.
“That’s what I said, buddy.” Xander chuckled, ruffling his hair, which had grown a considerable amount in just four months.
Ellaryn smiled. “You’re the real looker. I love the suit.”
“Really? I don’t think I’m wearing it right.” He studied himself in the mirror, small hands running down the front of it.
Ellaryn stepped closer and fixed his crooked tie.
“There,” she said. “Much better. Are you ready?”
Sailen grinned, a toothy smile aimed at her. “As I’ll ever be.”
* * *
Ellaryn watched Sailen from across the room.
It was hard not to see the castle in this new light.
It was beautiful now—but still stained by her past. Stained by the King.
And here she stood in the very place where he had died.
Though the black marble had been replaced with white, it gleamed and glistened as if the darkness had never existed.
Yet Ellaryn still saw the shadows, lingering stubbornly at the edges, twisting through the light like remnants of a past that refused to be erased.
She knew he was dead. Her hand was the one that had dealt that final blow.
But she still saw him…
In the corridors. In the courtyard. In her dreams.
His silver eyes plagued her sleep.
She hadn’t told Xander. She didn’t want him to worry. He had tried so hard to make her feel at home. He had given her creative control over the castle, over its rebuilding, over its future. And Sailen was thriving.
But no matter how hard she tried, she didn’t think she could ever truly scrub this place of him.
She couldn’t even leave the castle. Every step outside would be watched, measured, judged.
The dwellers still marked her with eyes heavy with fear and disgust, and no matter how she tried, she could not shake the weight of it.
Xander wanted to move forward. He wanted to pretend everything was fine, to embrace the future as though the past had never existed.
But he hadn’t lived under the King’s control for fifteen years.
He hadn’t carried the shadows in every breath, the constant ache of being hunted, broken, and dehumanised.
He couldn’t understand the small, quiet ways the world still whispered at her, reminding her of every horror she had endured and every horror she had inflicted.
And so Ellaryn stayed, a prisoner of freedom, of survival, of memory.
Even here, surrounded by light and laughter, a part of her remained unseen, untouchable, still bound to the castle that had been both her cage and her weapon.
Whether she liked it or not, he was stained into every brick, every lick of paint, every window.
She forced a smile as Sailen danced around the banquet hall to the music, surrounded by children his age and younger. His laughter was bright and real. He looked alive. Colour had come back into his cheeks, and there was actual meat on his bones. He looked healthy.
A slow tear rolled down her cheek.
He had come so far. He had overcome so much.
And there was magic in Cinala again. Bloodlists were no more, and the babies that were to be born with signs of sorcery were just that: babies. Lives allowed to grow and flourish, free from fear, free from restraint, unburdened by the shadow of the King’s cruelty.
Her eyes caught Lyon’s from across the hall. He lifted his chalice toward her, sparkling wine catching the light, a devilish wink tugging at his mouth.
Ellaryn raised her own in return—a silent acknowledgement of the hell they had survived, and the fact that somehow, impossibly, they’d made it out the other side.
Andreya took Sailen’s hand and guided him to the towering three?tier cake she’d made.
She cut him a slice and offered it to him, not the least bit displeased when he swiped a finger through the icing or when his eyes widened at the taste.
She laughed—freely, brightly, the sound full of a happiness she no longer tried to hide.
She was happy.
And so was he.
“Are you okay?” Xander asked softly, noting the tear still sliding down her cheek, his voice close behind her.
She startled slightly, then wiped her face and smiled.
“Yes,” she said. “It’s just… nice seeing him so happy.”
Xander followed her gaze and smiled too. He placed his hands on her shoulders and began gently massaging them.
Ellaryn leaned into his touch.
“You did that,” he said. “You gave him life.”
“I also took it from him,” she replied, her gaze not meeting his.
“Hey, you’re not her anymore.” Xander tilted her chin up, his eyes tracing hers.
She knew she was not Ruin anymore, but Ruin’s actions clung to her like a shadow that did not wane.
Ellaryn forced a weak smile and kissed him.
A woman approached them then. She was middle-aged and carried herself with quiet confidence. Her pale pink dress was fitted at the bodice and flowed gracefully down.
“Auntie,” Xander said, smiling. “I’m glad you could make it.”
He pulled her into a tight hug.
She had his eyes and the same buttery blond hair, just a shade darker.
Ellaryn stood and cleared her throat.
“Aunt Liza, this is Ellaryn. The girl I wrote to you about.”
The woman smiled and held out her hand. She looked genuinely happy to see Ellaryn.
“Pleasure to meet you, Liza,” Ellaryn said, shaking it. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Oh, please, call me Auntie. It’s wonderful to meet you, too. Xander tells me you’re the one to thank for bringing Cinala home.”
Ellaryn felt her cheeks warm.
“It was more of a joint effort,” she said, trying to get the image of the lifeless King out of her mind.
“Well, I speak on behalf of the Wolfe name—we are forever grateful to you. For the safety of our city. And my nephew.”
Ellaryn nodded politely, but the praise sat heavy in her stomach.
If she knew everything Ellaryn had done…
Would she still look at her like that?
Would she still hold her in such high regard?
Her stomach turned.
Suddenly, the room felt too warm. Her dress felt too tight.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to get some air,” Ellaryn said with a brief smile on her face despite the way she was feeling.
The woman nodded. Xander looked concerned, but Ellaryn gave him a reassuring smile.
A false one, and he returned to his conversation.
As she stepped outside and sat on the castle steps, the wind ran through her hair.
She looked out over Cinala. In the setting sun, it was beautiful.
Some houses were still being rebuilt. Some still stood unfinished. But the cinders were gone. The fires were out.
The city was waking after years of nightmarish slumber.
Cinala was alive.
And it would continue to be—
For a very long time.
* * *
“Are you okay?” Xander asked, slipping into bed and ruffling the silk sheets.
“Yes,” Ellaryn lied, her voice quiet. “I’m just tired.” She turned to face him, forcing a small, fragile smile.
Xander’s gaze traced her face, soft and steady. “I know all of this—the crown, the ceremony, becoming Queen—it’s a lot to take on. And I know you’re worried about what people will think. But you will make a great queen, Ellaryn. Do you know how I know?”
Ellaryn’s voice was barely a whisper. “How?”
“Because you’re selfless,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.
“You’re resilient.” Another kiss, warm and certain.
“You would take a thousand wounds if it meant your people could be spared.” A final kiss.
“And you have faced true darkness… and made it break before you.” His voice held nothing but certainty as his eyes lingered on hers.
Ellaryn blinked, her eyes stinging with tears she tried to hold back.
“And there’s one more reason I want you to be my Queen,” he added, a teasing smirk tugging at his mouth.
She huffed a shaky laugh. “What reason?”
“Because you look damn sexy in a crown.”
For the first time, she could see herself reflected in his expression—softer, steadier, her face fuller than it once was, a smile blooming that felt startlingly, impossibly real.
Ellaryn laughed softly, looking away. “You’re silly.”
“No,” he said firmly, leaning closer. “I’m serious. You’re going to make a great Queen.”
“And you’re going to make a great King,” she said, smiling.
He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Ellaryn savoured the kiss, the warmth, the quiet intensity, before pulling back just enough to look into his eyes.
“You know I love you, right?” she whispered, cupping his cheeks.
Xander chuckled, a deep, happy sound. “I should hope so. You’re marrying me tomorrow.”
“I know,” she said softly, “I just wanted you to know that.”
He pulled back slightly, searching her face. “Everything okay?”
Ellaryn nodded, resting her forehead against his. “It’s perfect.”
And then she kissed him again, deeper this time, letting the world fade away until it was just the two of them, the warmth of the sheets, and the unspoken promise of everything to come.
Later that night, Ellaryn tiptoed through the bedroom, slipping her shoes on silently as she gathered the rest of her things. Her bag was waiting in the wardrobe, packed days ago, a silent promise to herself.
She slipped inside and grabbed it, careful not to disturb Xander, who was still asleep. She prayed he wouldn’t wake.
She placed a letter on the nightstand.
She hated leaving it, hated leaving him, but she knew she would never truly be accepted here. Cinala carried too many memories, too much darkness, and she refused to be the stain that haunted the city.
She knew Xander would give up everything for her, leave this life behind, run away with her, but she couldn’t ask it of him. He loved the city, and she would not make him choose. After all, the city needed him more than she did.
She passed Sailen’s room and creaked the door open. She wanted to see him one last time.
She left a note on his dresser, smiling softly at the gentle rise and fall of his chest in sleep. She hoped he would forgive her for everything and understand why she was leaving. There was no way she could give him the life that Xander could—the wealth, the parties, the safety.
Carefully, she closed the door, taking care not to wake him, and made her way out to the courtyard. The first step down, she paused and looked back at the castle. It gleamed white under the starlight, untainted. The dark could not touch it. Not anymore.
Xander had been her sunlight. He brought colour to her life.
She would think of him every day, long for him every day.
He had taught her what love could be, shown her that she was not the villain in her own story.
She would keep a piece of that light with her, but she would not be Ruin anymore.
Not plague the city with memories of fear.
A small voice called out from the patio.
“Ellaryn. Ellaryn, you’re not leaving me!”
It was Sailen. His little footsteps pounded across the stone, his tiny fists clenching the crumpled note in his hand. “Please don’t leave me.”
Ellaryn crouched to meet him at eye level. “Sailen, it’s not you I’m leaving. It’s this place. I can’t live here, not after everything I’ve done,” she said, her voice trembling. “And I can’t ask you to come with me. You have a life here. A good one.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
Sailen shook his head, determination in his eyes. “I hate it here.”
“What?” Ellaryn furrowed her brows, startled.
“Every time I wake, I feel like I’m back in the cells,” he said.
“I love Xander, but I can’t keep living here—not without you.
I want to see the world…” His voice caught.
“With you… I’ve lived in darkness for so long.
I want to see the light. I want to feel the wind in my hair.
I want to see the ocean, like in your stories. I want to be free.”
Ellaryn swallowed hard. “Are you sure? You could have a home here.”
“You are my home, Ellaryn,” he said, his small hand pressing into hers. “I feel safe when I’m with you. You saved me. You were there for me when I had no one else. No one understands me like you do.”
She squeezed him tightly, her tears mingling with his.
“Okay, Sailen. Let’s go see the world.”
She walked the land as she always did, but this time it was not barren; this time, her hand was not clutching a sword—it was wrapped around Sailen’s.
Hand in hand, they stepped past the gates of the castle, breached the line where the shadow wall had once imprisoned them.
Ellaryn did not look back once.
And in that moment, the truth settled over her like sunlight spilling into a long-dark room: this story was never about her and Xander.
It was never about love that arrived unexpectedly, sudden and bright.
It was about love that had always been there.
Love that bloomed even in the darkest places.
The dampest cells.
The corners where hope seemed impossible.
The unconditional, selfless kind—the kind families were made of.
The broken pieces that didn’t have to be shattered a million times to fit together perfectly.
It had always been about Sailen.
And she already knew the life she would give him.
She had seen it.