Page 146 of The Curse of Golden Blood
I lifted the crown, held it between us like an offering. "The people need someone who will lead them toward something better than fear."
Understanding dawned in her expression. She started to shake her head, but I pressed on.
"You are the rightful heir. Ylvena's time is done. This belongs to you now."
"I do not want it," she whispered. "I never wanted any of this."
"I know. That is exactly why you should take it."
I placed the crown on her brow with careful hands, watching as the gold settled against her hair like it had been made for her. The metal flared briefly with new light, recognizing its rightful bearer.
Around us, the surviving members of the Sun Court emerged from the ruins. Servants, guards, nobles who had hidden when the battle began. They saw Miralyte kneeling there crowned in gold and power, saw the empty space where their tyrant sovereign had once floated, and understanding rippled through them like wind through wheat.
One by one, they knelt. First the servants, then the guards, then the nobles who had cowered in Ylvena's shadow for centuries. Soon the entire courtyard was bowed before the woman who wept for a friend while wearing a crown she had never sought.
Finally, I knelt as well, the motion alien and difficult. But it was my destiny to bend before this queen, this ancient dream made manifest. To serve her and protect her, to shield her from future nightmares.
I could think of nothing better.
thirty-nine
All That Was Given
Miralyte
Iwasbackinour village, sitting on the worn wooden steps of Pelbie's cottage. The familiar scent of her mother's herb garden drifted on the evening breeze, and somewhere in the distance, children's laughter echoed from the square.
Pelbie sat across from me, the bone dice scattered between us on a makeshift board carved into the step. Her brown hair caught the last rays of sunlight, and when she smiled, it was the same crooked grin that had brightened my childhood.
"Your turn," she said, gesturing to the dice. "Though we both know how this will end."
I always won our games. Always. It had been a running joke between us—Pelbie's terrible luck with dice, my uncanny ability to roll exactly what I needed. But when I picked up the carved bones and cast them, they clattered to a stop showing the worst possible combination.
Pelbie's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Well, would you look at that. I finally beat the great Miralyte at dice."
"About time," I said, trying to smile as a strange ache bloomed in my chest. "I was starting to think you'd never win one."
"Just had to wait for the right moment." She gathered the dice, her fingers warm when they brushed mine. "You know, I'm proud of you, Mira. Everything you've become, everything you've sacrificed for the realms."
"Pelbie—"
"No, let me say this." Her voice was gentle but firm. "I know you carry guilt about what happened to me. I can see it in your eyes even now. But you need to let it go."
The village around us began to blur at the edges, colors bleeding together like watercolors in rain.
"I should have saved you," I whispered.
"You did save me." She reached across the space between us, her hand cupping my cheek. "Every choice you made, every moment you fought—you saved countless others. That's who you are, Mira. That's who you've always been."
The dream was fading now, the cottage steps dissolving beneath us, but Pelbie's smile remained bright and real.
"Finish our game someday," she said as everything went white. "But maybe let someone else win once in a while."
I jerked awake with a gasp that tore at my throat. Not from fear this time, but from the aching sweetness of seeing her face again. Tears slipped down my cheeks—not the bitter tears of nightmares, but the soft grief of missing someone deeply loved.
"Easy, little dove." Zydar's voice was sleep-rough and concerned. His arm tightened around my waist, pulling me back against the solid warmth of his chest. "Another dream?"
I turned in his arms, needing to see his face in the moonlight that streamed through the chamber windows. Real. He was real. This was real. Not the twisted memories Ylvena had planted in my mind, not the false images that had died with her four months ago.
