Page 137

And when it subsided, when they each were able to refocus on the sight before them, Elyria and Cedric each held a crown—whole and complete—in their hands.

“Incredible, Ellie,” said Kit.

The beads in Thraigg’s beard jangled as he shook his head from side to side. “Un-bloody-believable. Can’t believe Noxie’s missing this.”

“Two bloods indeed,” whispered Shep.

Jocelyn’s gaze was pinned on the twin crowns, her head whipping back and forth between them. “But . . . two? How? The prophecy tells of the reclamation of the One True Crown.”

“Not the crown, then,” Shep said, a knowing smile tipping up the edge of his mouth as his gaze shifted from the headpieces in Cedric’s and Elyria’s hands, to Cedric himself. “But the Crown.”

“Now, hold on. Wait just a moment,” Cedric protested, but whatever argument he might have tried to make died on his tongue. Elyria felt the moment of his acceptance, the resignation and the spark of hope vibrating through their bond. They’d barely spoken about it, had barely acknowledged it, aside from her new favorite nickname for him and a few poorly timed jokes. But she knew this was the very thing he had been fighting against since he first found out about his lineage.

Cedric was born to be king.

He never wanted this to be his legacy.

He would take it up anyway.

He fell to his knees, the crown still clutched in his grasp.

The ground rumbled.

“Ellie?” Kit asked nervously.

“It isn’t me,” Elyria replied, and as quickly as the shaking had begun, it stopped.

Cheers sounded from the camp, but nobody could be bothered to look back. They could only look up, up at the brilliant streaks of color now painted across the sky—shades of violet and gold and green and blue.

“The aurora,” Kit breathed. “Aurelia has been freed from the Sanctum.”

Shep bowed his head. “The prophecy is fulfilled.”

The others followed suit, their hands clasped in front of them, their gazes dropped to the ground.

Elyria looked at the crown in her hands, then down at Cedric’s panic-stricken face. His chest was rising and falling, his breath uneven.

“It’s all right,” she said soothingly down the bond. “It’s you and me. Together, still. Together, always.” With a casualness she did not feel, Elyria placed the golden circlet on her own head, trying not to shudder at the instantaneous burst of power that filled her bones.

Cedric looked up at her, wetness lining the edges of his gold-ringed brown eyes, and gave her a slow nod. She leaned forward, pressed a gentle kiss to his scarred lip, then pried his crown from his fingers.

“Your Majesty,” she said with a wink, standing straight.

“I love you,” he said simply.

And she placed the golden crown atop his head.

He gasped at the rush of power, but there was no more spectacle. No more blazing light, no more quaking earth. Nothing but Cedric Thorne and Elyria Lightbreaker, the Phoenix and the Revenant, there among their friends.

Champions.

Victors.

Regents.

Cedric inhaled shakily as he got to his feet. “Now what?”

“Now we fix what once was broken,” Elyria said. “We repair your grandmother’s legacy. Fill the Chasms and heal the realm.”