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Dizziness takes hold of me, and I sway atop him as my eyelids flutter shut.

A hand finds my shoulder, then another, and another as our friends crowd around us.

I am steadied by them, holding onto consciousness by sheer force of will.

Thump, thump.

“Come home, you stubborn fae bastard, and let me love you for now and always,” I demand.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

My eyes snap open, and so do his.

Chapter 44

RIVEN

Air saws through my lungs.

Above me, a goddess weeps, and the area around her glows.

“Riven?” she breathes. “Riven, are you⁠—”

I capture her mouth, tasting salt and blood and desperation. She’s whimpering against me, body wracked with sobs, and I tighten my arms around her, holding her together so she doesn’t fall apart.

“It’s okay, little witch,” I murmur, pressing my forehead against hers. “I’m here.”

And then we’re kissing again, slow and steady, weaving a promise of forever.

Someone clears their throat, and we break apart.

Arkyn grins down at me. “Incredibly happy you’re alive and all, but you might want to address that?”

He gestures behind me, and I look over my shoulder.

Black hell.

I can’t catch a fucking break.

Back from the dead and thrown straight into the horseshit.

The council looms on the edge of the clearing, gazes bouncing between the blight-ravaged sick, Devlin’s corpse, and me, their faces growing more and more confused by the second.

“What’s going on here, Your Majesty?” asks Lord Thomasin. “What is all this… ichor? And what happened to you? To Lord Devlin?”

Gwyn slides off me, and we climb to our feet.

My fingers link through hers, holding her close.

My anchor. My love. My brave little witch.

“Long story,” I drawl. “The short version is Lord Devlin tried to kill me. On my wedding day.”

Gwyn’s breath hitches at my lie. No one else who knows the truth dares to speak it aloud. It’s like they know it’s a necessary lie, one that protects me and my kingship. Because if the council knew I died and Gwyn resurrected me, they could question everything.

Me. My claim to the throne. Whether I came back… different.

Or if I’m even who I claim to be.