The world blurred around them. There was no war, no crown, no past or future—only now. Only them.
They broke apart only when breath demanded it, lips parting slow and reluctant, foreheads resting together, hearts still beating like drums. Cassian’s thumb brushed the edge of her jaw.
“I love you, you storm-born bastard,” she said, pressing her forehead to his. “Of course I’ll marry you.”
He grinned like a man who’d just conquered fate. “Well damn. I was half-prepared to lose a limb before you said yes.”
She laughed—real and raw. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.
“Next time,” she said, “maybe bring flowers.”
“Next time,” he murmured, “maybe I’ll just throw you over my shoulder and steal you away.”
She smirked. “You’re lucky I like trouble.”
Cassian slid the ring onto her finger slowly, reverently. “You’re my trouble,” he whispered. “Always.”
The wind howled around them, but it was soft now. Like it, too, was holding its breath.
They stood there for a long time. Two soldiers. Two rulers. Two hearts, burned and broken and made whole again in the ashes.
FORTY-FIVE
SERAPHINE
The wind howled along the volcanic cliffs, tearing through the heavens like it was trying to carry the world’s last breath away. The moon was full, fat and silver, its light a pale blessing stretched over the jagged rocks and ash-streaked sea. Seraphine stood barefoot at the edge, her cloak caught in the wind, hair streaming behind her like a banner of flame. She could feel the earth’s hum beneath her feet—restless, but calm. The Hollow was sealed. The realm was safe. For now.
Still, her heart beat like a war drum.
Behind her, his footsteps were deliberate. Quiet, but never hidden. Cassian didn’t sneak. He stalked, bold and sure, even when the world was crumbling beneath his feet. Even now, when peace felt fragile and the only danger left was the pounding in her chest.
He stopped beside her. Didn’t speak at first. Just stood there, hands in his pockets, watching the ocean breathe fire.
“You should be asleep,” he murmured eventually, voice gravel-slick and low.
She didn’t look at him. “So should you.”
He let out a soft, almost laugh. “We’re getting married in the morning.”
“I know.”
He stepped closer. “And you’re standing on a godsdamn cliff.”
“I needed air.” Her voice cracked a little. “It’s…a lot.”
Cassian exhaled like he understood. And he did. He always did.
“I keep thinking I’ll wake up,” she said. “That this’ll all be one of Mirael’s sick illusions.”
“It’s not,” he said. “She’s gone. You burned her out of the world.”
She turned to him then, and the wind wrapped around them like smoke. “I didn’t do it alone.”
His eyes found hers, stormfire and shadow, but soft now—only for her. “No. But you finished it.”
They stood in silence, shoulder to shoulder, as waves crashed below. Seraphine’s fingers twitched, aching to reach for him, and when she did, he caught her hand in his like he’d been waiting for it all along.
“Do you regret it?” she asked quietly. “All of it?”
