Chapter 30: The Crown of Ashes
The sixth heart pulsed—once, twice—and the air in the throne room turned thick as syrup. The king's empty robes twitched, then collapsed entirely, dissolving into a swirl of black mist that coiled around the queen's ankles like a serpent.
I stumbled back, my hands flying to my temples. The golden scale on my forehead burned hotter, searing through the last of my denial.
This was real.
I was Aurora Veythari, the forgotten princess who had carved out her own heart to escape. The modern girl I'd pretended to be—the one who worried about exams and traffic and the price of coffee—had been a shield. A beautiful, fragile lie.
And now the shield was gone.
The queen's voice cut through the silence. "Enough."
A single word, sharp as a blade. The writhing mist froze mid-air. The sixth heart stilled in her palm. Even the blood on the floor ceased its unnatural shimmering.
She turned to me, and for the first time, I saw exhaustion in the lines of her face. "You ran from your crown. From your duty. From them." Her gaze flicked to Sey and Yassie. "But you cannot run from what you are."
Sey's shadow-twisted hand clenched. "What is she?"
The queen smiled. "The rightful heir."
A beat of silence. Then—
Yassie barked a laugh. "Oh, hell no." She jabbed a finger at me. "This is the girl who set fire to her own bedchambers because she couldn't figure out how to light a candle?"
A memory surged—smoke, screaming, the sting of my nurse's slap—and my face burned. "That was one time—"
"And the incident with the ceremonial wyvern?" Sey muttered.
"It looked like a pillow!"
The queen pinched the bridge of her nose. "Gods spare me from children who chew through history like it's sugared parchment." She snapped her fingers, and the white-haired lock embedded in Yassie's chest flared. He yelped. "You will all cease your squabbling. The throne must be secured. The people must see strength." Her eyes locked onto mine. "And you, daughter, will marry both of these disasters before sunset."
Silence.
Then—
"Both?" Sey and Yassie said in unison.
The queen shrugged. "Polygamy is traditional for coronations. Prevents succession wars." She eyed Yassie's horrified expression. "Unless you'd prefer I reinstate the old custom of ceremonial combat for the position of consort?"
Yassie opened his mouth—then shut it as Sey's shadow-blade fingers flexed meaningfully.
I found my voice. "Mother—"
"No arguments." She tossed the sixth heart into the air, where it hovered, spinning lazily. "The king is gone, but his work remains. The hollow ones still walk in stolen skins. The relics must be cleansed. And you—" She stepped forward, cupping my face. Her hands smelled of iron and elderflowers. "You will stop hiding."
The golden scale on my forehead pulsed in time with my heartbeat.
I exhaled.
Then turned to Sey and Yassie—my oldest friend and my worst enemy, the shadow and the storm, the two people who had somehow followed me through every version of this nightmare.
"Well?" I said, forcing a smirk. "Who's ready to be royalty?"
Yassie groaned. Sey's shadows writhed in despair.
And the sixth heart, forgotten above us, beat backward once more.
Final Lines:
The coronation would be held at dusk.
The hollow ones would come.
And the girl who had been no one—
Would finally remember how to be queen.