The throne room looked nothing like it had the last time I stood in it wearing a crown.

 

Back then, the walls had felt too tall, too cold—watchful instead of welcoming. The court had been half-empty, the air thick with doubt and fear. That ceremony had been about survival. A desperate claiming, both of the throne and each other. A line drawn in the sand. The world had been crumbling around us, and that moment had been a shield we held up against it.

 

This… this was different.

 

The rebuilt chamber thrummed with music and magic, with the hum of power and the breath of a kingdom finally exhaling. Banners of crimson and gold hung from the rafters, embroidered with symbols of flame, fate, and dreaming stars. Light spilled through stained-glass windows—new ones—each pane a vibrant depiction of our journey. The battle at the falls. The mountain’s collapse. The Dreaming. Us.

 

The people weren’t afraid anymore.

 

They stood shoulder to shoulder, nobles and commoners alike, warriors and council members pressed together—not just to witness history, but to celebrate it. They knew who we were. What we had done. And what we had lost to get here.

 

The scent of magic lingered in the air, sweet and electric.

 

And this time, I didn’t walk alone.

 

I moved down the aisle between rows of gathered onlookers, the long train of my gown trailing behind me like a river of moonlight and flame. The fabric shimmered in iridescent silver and red-gold, woven with threads that sparkled like embers. The bodice clung to me like armor—elegant, powerful—with intricate embroidery mimicking the shifting lines of the Dreaming. It wasn’t just a dress.

 

It was a crown in fabric form.

 

A symbol of who I had become.

 

Idris stood at my right, radiant and still, firelight dancing across his golden armor, trimmed in crimson velvet. His gaze was steady, filled with heat and pride and love so profound it softened every edge of the room. Golden fire curled around his shoulders like a mantle of sunlight, his presence steadying me as it always had—fierce and warm, the center of every storm.

 

Kian flanked my left, smirking like this was a party and he was moments from stealing the spotlight. He wore black kissed with opal shimmer, each thread moving like illusion itself, flickering between color and shadow. Mischief sparked in his eyes, but I knew the truth of him—he was here because he loved me. All of me.

 

Xavier completed our line, calm and cool in midnight blue and silver, his presence like the hush before a breath. Gentle. Steady. Unshakable. His hand brushed mine, grounding me, as always.

 

Freya stood off to the side, dressed in deep garnet, a smug tilt to her chin as she surveyed the crowd like she dared someone to object. She caught my eye and gave the faintest nod. Briar stood beside her, her wings folded tight, but a rare smile tugging at her mouth. Talek leaned against a marble pillar, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as if he was trying not to look impressed. Nyrah stood beside him in a soft gown of pale gold, her hands clasped in front of her, her glow just beginning to return.

 

They were here. All of them. Family.

 

I had loved them in war. I had chosen them through fire. But now—now I claimed them in peace.

 

The high priestess stepped forward, her voice ringing clear. “We gather not just for union, but for recognition. Not only for a queen and her king, but for those who stood beside them—who bled, fought, and loved at their side. Today, the crown expands.”

 

Magic stirred.

 

It rose from the floor, from the people, from the very stones—drawn to the bond between us. Threads of light wove around our feet, gold and crimson and silver-blue, a living tapestry spun before the eyes of the realm.

 

My light. Idris’ magic. Kian’s illusions. Xavier’s flames.

 

I turned first to Kian.

 

He grinned, mischief dancing in his gaze, but when he spoke, his voice was soft. “You never saw yourself as a queen,” he said, cupping my cheek. “But you’ve ruled every inch of me since the moment you called me out for being a prickly bastard.” Laughter rippled through the crowd. His thumb brushed my jaw. “My magic is yours. My heart is yours. Always.”

The bond flared, his illusion magic curling around us in a shimmer of stars and laughter.

 

I turned to Xavier.

 

He stepped closer, slipping his hand into mine. “You saved more than this kingdom,” he said, voice low. “You reminded me that love doesn’t have to hurt. That loyalty isn’t chains. That I can choose… and still be whole.” His voice cracked just slightly. “And I choose you. Always.”

 

Magic pulsed, dream-threading through the air like spun moonlight.

 

Finally, Idris.

 

He didn’t speak at first—just reached out and rested his hand over my heart, where the Dreaming still whispered beneath my skin.

 

“I thought fate had forsaken me,” he said. “But instead, she was waiting for you.” His fire coiled between us, his touch a promise forged in gold. “I will burn the world before I ever let anything harm you again. You are mine. As I am yours.”

 

The room glowed with magic—our magic.

 

I lifted my chin, the full weight of my crown pressing into me not as a burden, but a symbol. “Let it be known,” I said, my voice steady, strong, “that Credour is no longer ruled by one sovereign or two. But by four. Equal. Eternal.”

 

The court erupted.

 

Idris pulled me to him, his lips crashing over mine in a kiss that lit the air in fire. Kian followed, spinning me into a kiss of heat and laughter. Xavier’s was last—soft, reverent, and yet filled with promise.

 

The crowd gasped. The magic flared again—visible this time, bright and blinding. The court may have once questioned. They would never question again.

 

I was theirs. And they were mine.

 

Somewhere near the front of the crowd, Freya let out a low whistle. “About time you made it official,” she muttered just loud enough for us to hear. “I was starting to worry I’d have to stage an intervention.”

 

Talek elbowed her with an exaggerated sigh. “Please. Like you wouldn’t have officiated it yourself with a crown and a dagger.”

 

“I still might,” Freya replied sweetly, flipping her hair over her shoulder as if this entire thing had been her idea from the beginning.

 

Briar, radiant in deep emerald, stood beside her, her chin lifted proudly even as she blinked tears from her lashes. She caught my eye and gave the smallest nod.

 

Nyrah was tucked between them, her golden hair braided through with tiny, jeweled stars. She beamed at me like she was holding up the sky. She didn’t need magic to be extraordinary.

 

She was already a part of what came next.

 

 

Later, after the feast had spilled into the halls, after the final toast and the last blessing, we slipped away.

 

Into the garden. Into the dark. Into each other.

 

The night wrapped around us, velvet-soft and star-scattered. Lanterns floated gently overhead, casting golden pools of light across the stone paths. The scent of honeysuckle and jasmine clung to the air, tangled with the faint traces of smoke and magic still humming through the stones of the palace.

 

We wandered until we found a quiet alcove tucked between flowering trees and a bubbling fountain—secluded, hidden, ours. A soft blanket had been left there, spread beneath the vines as if someone had known we’d need this moment. Maybe someone had. Maybe the Dreaming still whispered even here.

 

Kian dropped first, sprawled across the cushions like he owned the world. “About time,” he muttered, tugging me down beside him. “If one more noble tried to shake my hand, I was going to fake a vision just to escape.”

 

“You don’t get visions,” Xavier said dryly, settling beside him with a sigh of contentment. “You’d end up predicting the weather.”

 

Kian shrugged, completely unbothered. “I would’ve said rain. Just to clear the party.”

 

I leaned back against Idris’s chest, his warmth enveloping me from behind. His arms circled my waist, his chin resting lightly on my shoulder. His presence was steady, grounding, the rhythm of his breath syncing with mine.

 

Xavier shifted to lie on my other side, his fingers brushing mine, slow and absent, like he couldn’t stop touching me even now. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and let his hand linger there, his gaze soft, adoring.

 

Kian stretched, his foot nudging mine, one arm flung behind his head like he was perfectly at home beneath the stars. “You know,” he said lazily, “this might be the first time we’ve all just… breathed. No enemies. No curses. No collapsing mountains.”

 

“Don’t jinx it,” Idris murmured against my skin, but I could hear the smile in his voice.

 

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward or heavy—it was full. Full of everything we’d survived. Everything we’d built. The magic that connected us pulsed softly between us, quiet and steady like a heartbeat. Ours.

 

My chest swelled with so much emotion I didn’t know where to put it all.

 

Peace. Love. Home.

 

“Are you ready for forever?” I asked, the words barely a breath.

 

Kian propped himself up on an elbow, his smirk curving slow and wicked. “Only if I get to annoy you for every second of it.”

 

Xavier chuckled, his thumb brushing my cheek. “He will. Trust me.”

 

“I’m counting on it,” I whispered.

 

Idris pressed a kiss to the nape of my neck, slow and reverent, then leaned in until his forehead touched mine. His voice was soft—lower than a vow, deeper than a promise. “We’ve always been ready, my brave one.”

 

I looked at the three of them—my mates, my heart.

 

And with them beside me, I was finally home.