Page 417 of Kingdom of Ash

The bells still ringing, Aelin nodded to the guards at the castle gates.

They opened at last, and the roar from the gathered crowds was loud enough to rattle the stars.

As one, they walked out. Into the cheering city.

Into the streets, where people danced and sang, where they wept and clasped their hands to their hearts at the sight of the parade of waving, smiling rulers and warriors and heroes who had saved their kingdom, their lands. At the sight of the newly crowned queen, joy lighting her eyes.

A new world.

A better world.

CHAPTER 120

Two days later, Nesryn Faliq was still recovering from the ball that had lasted until dawn.

But what a celebration it had been.

Nothing as majestic as anything in the southern continent, but the sheer joy and laughter in the Great Hall, the feasting and dancing … She would never forget it, as long as she lived.

Even if it might take her until her dying day to feel rested again.

Her feet still ached from dancing and dancing and dancing, and she’d spotted both Aelin and Lysandra grousing about it at the breakfast table just an hour ago.

The queen had danced, though—a sight Nesryn would never forget, either.

The first dance had been Aelin’s to lead, and she had selected her mate to join her. Both queen and consort had changed for the party, Aelin into a gown of black threaded with gold, Rowan into black embroidered with silver. And what a pair they had been, alone on the dance floor.

The queen had seemed shocked—delighted—as the Fae Prince hadled her into a waltz and had not faltered a step. So delighted that she’d crowned them both with flames.

That had been the start of it.

The dance had been … Nesryn had no words for the swiftness and grace of their dance. Their first as queen and consort. Their movements had been a question and answer to each other, and when the music had sped up, Rowan had spun and dipped and twirled her, the skirts of her black gown revealing Aelin’s feet, clad in golden slippers.

Feet that moved so quickly over the floor that embers sparked at her heels. Trailed in the wake of her sweeping dress.

Faster and faster, Aelin and Rowan had danced, spinning, spinning, spinning, the queen glowing like she’d been freshly forged as the music gathered into a clashing close.

And when the waltz slammed into its triumphant, final note, they halted—a perfect, sudden stop. Right before the queen threw her arms around Rowan and kissed him.

Nesryn was still smiling about it, sore feet and all, as she stood in the dusty chamber that had become the headquarters for the khaganate royals, and listened to them talk.

“The Healer on High says it will be another five days until the last of our soldiers are ready,” Prince Kashin was saying to his siblings. To Dorian, who had been asked into this meeting today.

“And you will depart then?” Dorian asked, smiling a bit sadly.

“Most of us,” Sartaq said, smiling with equal sadness.

For it was friendship that had grown here, even in war. True friendship, to last beyond the oceans that would separate them once more.

Sartaq said to Dorian, “We asked you here today because we have a rather unusual request.”

Dorian lifted a brow.

Sartaq winced. “When we visited the Ferian Gap, some of our rukhin found wyvern eggs. Untended and abandoned. Some of them now wish to stay here. To look after them. To train them.”

Nesryn blinked, right along with Dorian. No one had mentioned this to her. “I—I thought the rukhin never left their aeries,” Nesryn blurted.

“These are young riders,” Sartaq said with a smile. “Only two dozen.” He turned to Dorian. “But they begged me to ask you if it would be permissible for them to stay when we leave.”

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