The tunnels are quieter now.
No echoes of danger. No rushing footsteps. No fear. Only the faint drip of water and the steady sound of our breathing as Aldric walks beside me. I hold his hand—his palm warm, fingers rough from the sword, but gentle.
We don’t speak. We don’t need to.
There’s something sacred in this silence, like words would only ruin what has already been said between our hearts. His thumb brushes my knuckles once, and it feels like a vow stronger than any oath sworn before gods.
The torchlight flickers against the stone walls as we turn the last corner, and the small chamber comes into view—the same one where Brenno left us days ago.
Mira lies on the bed, still and small, her golden curls stuck to her forehead. Her breathing is shallow but steady. Ysabet’s herbs lie scattered across the table; she must have left in a hurry to prepare more.
Before I can say anything, Aldric lets go of my hand and rushes forward. He drops to his knees beside the bed and leans over her, his expression breaking open with something raw and pure.
“Mira,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “My dear… my dear daughter. Wake up, love.”
He presses a kiss to her forehead. The air shifts.
It’s subtle at first—a tremor, a hum deep within the walls, as if the palace itself exhales after holding its breath for too long. Then Mira stirs. Her lashes flutter. Her small hand twitches.
And then, she opens her eyes.
Her skin glows with color again; the grayness fades from her lips. She blinks once, twice, and looks around. When her gaze lands on Aldric, confusion flashes first… and then wonder.
Her voice is soft, raspy. “Mom… my dad is the prince?”
Aldric chuckles, tears glinting in his eyes. “The king, actually. Which makes you a princess.”
Mira gasps, sitting up a little, eyes wide as moonlight. “Mom, am I a princess?!”
I laugh—quietly, shakily—because I haven’t laughed like that in months. “Yes, love. You are.”
She squeals with delight, then hugs Aldric’s neck, and he catches her with both arms, holding her as if afraid she might vanish. I can see the years of distance, of separation and secrecy, dissolve between them with every heartbeat.
Aldric looks at me over her shoulder, his smile soft but certain. “Which also makes your mother a queen.”
I blink, unsure I’ve heard him right. “A—what?”
He stands, still holding Mira’s hand, and steps toward me. The golden light of the torch flickers across his face, and for once, he doesn’t look like a prince or a ruler—just a man who has found what he lost.
He takes my hand in his, lifting it slightly. His smirk returns, teasing but tender. “Before you ask if it’s me asking for your hand in marriage…” He pauses, eyes glinting. “Yes. It is.”
I gasp. “Aldric—”
But the rest of the words never leave my lips, because I’m already reaching for him.
His hands frame my face, warm and sure, and when our lips meet, it’s nothing like the stolen kisses from before. No guilt, no fear, no secrecy. Just love—open and honest, filling every part of me that had ever felt empty.
When we finally part, his forehead rests against mine. “You don’t have to answer now,” he murmurs.
I smile through the tears I didn’t realize were falling. Tears of freedom, something I longed for for years. That little ray of light I saw five years ago at a masked festival now finally turns into a true sunlight of my life.
“I already did.”
***
When we leave the tunnels, all three of us, it feels like stepping from shadow into sunlight. Mira skips between us, her small hand in Aldric’s, humming softly to herself.
The corridors above are alive again—music echoing faintly from the main hall, voices blending together in something that sounds almost like peace.
As we walk, Aldric glances sideways at me. “If I may ask…” His tone is playful now. “How did you get the Victory Ring? For Liora’s spell?”
I can’t help but grin. “I stole it.”
His eyebrows lift. “You what?”
“Like I did the first day I met you,” I tease. “Seems I have a habit of taking what’s yours.”
He laughs—really laughs this time, the sound echoing through the stone like sunlight breaking through clouds. “And I have a habit of letting you.”
We step into the main hall.
The same hall that had seen chaos, betrayal, and blood—now filled with light, music, and joy. The crowd turns as soon as they see Aldric. Cheers rise, voices overlapping in disbelief and celebration.
“The prince!” someone shouts. “He’s alive!”
“No,” another voice corrects. “The king!”
Aldric lifts Mira into his arms, and the child waves, giggling as the hall erupts in applause. I spot Ysabet near the front, her forehead bandaged but her smile radiant. She claps with tears shining in her eyes.
Further back, Liora tends to Brenno’s bruises while he grins through them, clearly proud of the chaos he helped cause. When Liora catches my eye, she gives a small nod—the kind that says, We made it.
I nod back, silently promising I’ll never forget what she risked.
Aldric steps into the center of the hall and turns to face the crowd. The golden crown gleams faintly in the torchlight, but it’s his voice that holds everyone still.
“My people,” he calls, his tone deep, carrying the strength of his father and something more—something his own. “You’ve watched darkness fall upon these walls, and you’ve seen it lifted. You’ve watched deceit wear the mask of loyalty and watched truth break through it.”
He pauses, looking at me. My breath catches.
“From this day forward,” he says, louder now, “you will know me not only as your king… but you will know this woman as your queen.”
The hall erupts. Cheers, applause, chants—so loud that the walls tremble. Mira claps her tiny hands, her laughter pure and bright.
I barely hear them. My world narrows to the man before me.
He turns, takes my hand again, and raises it high. “Lara of Durden’s line, seamstress of the people, mother of my child, the woman who risked her life to save mine—”
I shake my head, smiling through tears. “You always talk too much before doing what you mean.”
He grins. “Then I’ll do it now.”
He pulls me closer, tilting my chin up, and kisses me.
The crowd roars, the sound blending with the music, the bells, the heartbeats of everyone in that hall.
I don’t think of titles, or crowns, or fate. Just this: his lips, his hands, his warmth, our daughter’s laughter echoing between us.
After years of shadows, the light doesn’t feel foreign anymore. It feels like home.