“But I think…” I hesitate, my heart pounding. “I think that means I care enough to try.”
Hope breaks across their faces in a sudden, brilliant wave.
I swallow hard, then say it.
“I’ll do it.”
Silence.
Then Ashton blinks. “Wait—really?”
I laugh, breathless. “Yes. I’ll do it. I’ll wear the crown. And…” My voice softens. “I’ll marry you.”
Their reaction is immediate. Relief crashes through them all at once, breaking whatever tension had been holding them back. Oberon is the first to move, pulling me into him and kissing me hard, like he needs to feel that I’m real, that I meant it. I laugh against his lips, my hands gripping his shoulders as he lifts me slightly off the ground.
“As if we were going to let you change your mind,” he mutters.
Ashton is next, catching my hand and spinning me away from Oberon, his grin back in full force as he kisses me, quick and bright and full of life. “Best decision you’ve ever made,” he says.
Sylvian steps in, steadier, his arms wrapping around me as he lifts me and spins me once, twice, the world blurring into sunlight and laughter before he sets me back down, his forehead resting against mine. “We’ll make this work,” he promises.
Cassius comes last, his touch gentler but no less certain as he cups my face and kisses me, slowly, like he’s anchoring me in the moment. “You’ve already begun,” he murmurs.
All four of them surround me, their presence warm and solid and real. Everything just feels… right.
My heart is still racing as I turn back toward the altar. The crown waits. Not threatening. Not overwhelming. Just… waiting.
For me.
For us.
I step forward, my fingers trembling slightly as I reach out and take it. The bone is cool beneath my touch, smooth and solid and ancient. I can feel the magic in it now, stronger up close, a quiet pulse that seems to recognize me, to respond.
This is it.
I lift it carefully, surprised by its weight, and take one last breath. But before I can put the crown on my head, Oberon’s hand closes gently around my wrist.
I look up in surprise.
None of them speak. The sunlight spills across the altar, catching in their hair and on their tired faces, and suddenly I understand. This isn’t supposed to be mine to take alone.
They move around me, as if this is something we’ve practiced a million times. Something they always knew was coming.
“A queen shouldn’t crown herself,” Cassius says quietly.
Emotion catches hard in my throat.
Together, the four of them lift the crown from my hands. The movement is slow, deliberate, reverent enough that my pulse starts pounding all over again. I can feel the magic building in the air around us, humming stronger with every second, the labyrinth itself seeming to hold its breath.
My own breath shakes as I stand there between them.
Loved. Chosen.
Then, carefully, they place it on me.
The moment the bone settles against my brow, power crashes through me. Light erupts around the altar in a violent pulse, magic surging outward so fiercely the ground trembles beneath our feet. Wind tears through the meadow, whipping my hair back as the sunlight brightens into something almost blinding. Energy rushes through my veins, ancient andenormous and alive, flooding every part of me until I can barely breathe beneath the force of it.
And somehow, impossibly, beneath all that power… I feel them. All four of them. Their bond with me. Their love. Their trust.