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I sat up, reality sinking back in.

“Lux…” I brushed over the loose tendrils draped around her face. Her eyes fluttered open, the haze of sleep coating them. A soft smile tilted her lips, and I couldn’t resist tipping forward and pressing a kiss to that perfect mouth of hers. “Marry me, Skald. Right now.”

“Right now,” she whispered, breathless after another kiss.

My palms and chest itched, flaming hot as I waited for right now to happen. Lux spent another hour preparing for the wedding, and every second of waiting was worth it when she walked into the throne room, skin painted with the same runes she wore at our first, real wedding.

Her hair, unbound and wild around her face, and the furious glint in her eyes, displayed a familiarity that was unmistakably Myrah’s. She was herself again, full of hope and curiosity.

Once she reached me, I took her hand and laced our fingers together. Hundreds of people crammed into the throne room to witness our wedding, but I saw none of them. Stasia barely registered in my attention as we turned to face her and then knelt before her.

This time, the blood in our vials belonged to us. This time, the seal was real. Emotion lodged in my throat, but as Stasia officiated the wedding, I managed to speak the appropriate responses.

Once we were officially bound, I leaned into Lux, holding her, kissing her, tasting her tears between our lips.

We separated at an appropriate time and faced the kingdom—all actions of a well-behaved king and queen. Next, we’d walk hand-in-hand to pour wine and dance, and once the last drop drained, the crowd would call for our consummation, with courtiers witnessing it as proof of our union. A good king would follow this routine without complaint.

But I was never a good king.

I never did what was expected, unless it was that I’d do whatever the fuck I wanted. Of course.

When we stood, I brushed my lips across the shell of Lux’s ear. “Do you trust me?”

She tilted her chin up, brow gently furrowed but with the ghost of a smile on her lips. “Always.”

“Then let me take you home.” She blinked and snapped her attention to the audience before us. “This isn’t where we belong. I’m sorry I ever brought you here, Skald, but I’m not sorry for where it has led us.”

“We’ll commence with the pouring of the wine,” Stasia announced from behind us.

My grip on Lux loosened only for the second it took to turn and meet the officiant’s gaze.

Stasia stared at me with doe eyes, wide, waiting, and wondering what the fuck I was doing.

“You wanted the throne,” I said. Her gaping mouth snapped shut, and she looked from Lux back to me. “Take it.”

“Vylheim doesn’t know me,” she said.

“Take a seat and let Mjolnir choose.”

Lux’s breath hitched. “The gods shouldn’t choose anything⁠—”

“It’s not the gods,” I said. “It’s fate. And if there’s anything I understand now, it’s fate. Lux and I found our way back to each other despite the gods. Despite Freya wanting Lux to suffer as Freya suffered when her husband strayed. The power of Mjolnir will only accept one fit to lead a kingdom, and I have no doubt about Stasia.” I turned to Lux. “What do the sagas say about Mjolnir?”

She licked her lips. “Thor’s hammer brings change. Specifically blessing the change of seasons for growth and prosperity in agriculture.”

“And what will Stasia do for Vylheim’s people?” I smirked and met the new queen’s gaze. “Feed them. Is that right?”

Stasia’s bright curls quivered as she flicked her head in a faint nod. The shock on her face faded, and she took a breath. “What happens if I sit and it’s not fate?”

“If Mjolnir is not right for you, I suspect you won’t be able to handle the hum of magic. It’s…unsettling.”

Her lips parted, and when she turned toward the throne, I took Lux’s hand and stepped away, giving Stasia space.

The entire room fell into a tense hush, confusion tinting the air as every eye watched the former servant—the woman nobody knew, and yet everyone under the castle’s roof remembered—spin around and slowly take a seat.

Stasia paused there with her arms splayed on the armrest, and her head tilted forward for a moment. Her chest didn’t rise and fall with any sort of normal rhythm, and I didn’t breathe either until she raised her head and sat tall, filling the space on the one throne of Vylheim.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I didn’t even wait to see if she could handle Mjolnir before I dropped to my knee again and bowed my head. This time facing the throne rather than proposing to Lux. Lux followed suit by sinking into a respectful kneel, and then Finan.