“You’re late,” Henry calls as I approach the cherry tree, though his voice carries warmth instead of reproach.
“I had to escape my inbox,” I reply, brushing pink petals from my shoulders. “Apparently becoming the Academy’s most notorious scandal makes one quite popular.”
“Regrets?”
“About which part? Destroying Calla? Kissing you in front of three kingdoms? Or falling in love with someone completely inappropriate?”
His laugh is rich as honey. “Take your pick.”
I stop just out of reach, studying his face in the morning light. Gone is the princely mask, the careful composure. This is simply Henry—sleeves rolled up, hair disheveled, eyes bright with something that looks dangerously like happiness.
“You look different,” I observe.
“So do you.” He steps closer, petals dancing between us. “You look like someone who’s stopped apologizing for existing.”
“Have I?”
“You tell me. Do you still wish you were someone else?”
The question hangs in the sweet air. I consider it seriously, remembering the girl who once wrote desperate confessions in hidden journals, who dreamed of being smaller, quieter, more acceptable.
“No,” I say finally. “I think I rather like being me.”
“Good.” His smile could power the sun. “Because I’m rather fond of you as well.”
“Just fond?”
“Completely, utterly, scandalously in love with.” He reaches for my hand, his fingers warm against mine. “Is that better?”
“Much.” I pull him closer by his collar, delighting in the way his breath catches. “Though I should warn you—loving me comes with consequences.”
“Such as?”
“Disappointed parents. Furious nobles. A lifetime of people telling you that you could have done better.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“That’s it?” His eyebrows arch with mock surprise. “I was expecting something truly terrifying. Like having to attend charity galas or learning to waltz properly.”
I swat his arm, laughing despite myself. “I’m serious, Henry. Your mother will never forgive me for corrupting her perfect prince.”
“Then it’s fortunate I was never particularly perfect to begin with.” He spins us around, sending petals swirling through the air like snow. “Besides, corruption implies I was innocent. Have you forgotten how we met?”
“You called me a sea creature.”
“I was establishing dominance. Very princely of me.”
“You were being an absolute beast.”
“And you refused to be intimidated. Very un-ladylike of you.”
We’re both laughing now, dizzy from spinning and drunk on possibility. When we finally stop, Henry’s hands rest at my waist, his forehead touching mine.
“What happens now?” I ask.
“Now we scandalize the kingdom properly.” His grin is wicked. “I’m thinking a very public courtship. Flowers delivered to your chambers daily. Sonnets written in your honor. Perhaps a serenade beneath your window.”
“How thoroughly medieval of you.”
“I am nothing if not traditional.” He brushes a petal from my hair. “Though I draw the line at jousting for your honor. I’ve seen you fence—you’re perfectly capable of defending yourself.”
“Wise of you.” I trace the line of his jaw, marveling at how right this feels. “And after the scandalous courtship?”
“Marriage, naturally. A wedding so grand it makes the Academy’s founding ceremony look like afternoon tea.”
“And then?”
“Then we rule together.” His voice grows serious, weighted with promise. “Not just Ildareth, but wherever our story takes us. Universities, perhaps. Or diplomatic missions to kingdoms that need reminding about the power of choosing love over convention.”
I stare at him, this prince who speaks of the future like it’s ours to write. “You’d really give up everything traditional for me?”
“Helena.” He cups my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing across my cheekbones. “I’m not giving up anything. I’m gaining everything that matters.”
The words steal my breath. I’ve spent so long believing I was too much—too loud, too large, too difficult—that the idea of being someone’s everything feels impossible.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you too.” He leans in, his lips barely brushing mine. “Now kiss me properly. We have a kingdom to shock.”
I do.
Under the cherry tree where our story truly began, surrounded by falling petals and morning light, I kiss the prince who chose me over his crown. The kiss tastes like victory and feels like coming home.
When we finally break apart, breathless and grinning, Henry rests his forehead against mine.
“Ready for whatever comes next?” he asks.
“With you?” I smile, fierce and unafraid. “I’m ready for anything.”
Above us, the cherry blossoms dance in the breeze, blessing our love with pink petals and promises of spring.