I slide of out the room of fawning women, an overbearing wedding planner, and a stone-faced Borin and into the hallway of the sanctuary. As soon as the door closes behind me, I let out a relieved breath. We've spent two hours stuffed in a gathering room with flowers, fabric samples, and ideas for seating charts. If I had it my way, Raelle and I would sneak off into the nearest village where a Sibyl would be waiting, and we'd say our vows with no one else there. But I've been informed by Borin, more than once, that my plan lacks a sense of community. Apparently, that is something a king should cultivate, especially with his own wedding.

It isn't so much the wedding that has me on edge as it is the task I must preform tomorrow. Ashavee is bringing one of her subjects for judgement. She says they aren't falling in line with her rule and are still doing business with the Outlanders after she cut ties with them. The stolen goods the Outlanders took were from an Esspress ship and resulted in the death of three crew members. She is asking for a severe sentence for the transgression—the removal of their ability to shift.

I agree with the punishment Ashavee has chosen. It is fair for the Allaji's defiance and for the death that came from it. I plan to make their power dormant for thirty years, ten years for each life lost. Issuing and executing the sentence will be a first for me. Tomorrow I will hold the Imperium without Raelle and put the offender's power to sleep.

I walk into the great hall of the Lucent sanctuary. It is so different from the opulence that is found in Stigian. There are no painted ceilings or water that pours through the wall into a pool. The dais is smaller. The ivory thrones less ostentatious. But the holy place is no less beautiful.

The glass ceiling is covered in pink and white blooming vines and everything from the floor to the rows of pews is an immaculate ivory. Twin arched windows stand tall behind the dais and in between them is a round window with a ten-petalled flower etched in stained glass. It was weeks after living in the Lucent palace that I noticed what the symbol was—the Eporri. The stone Micah thought would help bring his people freedom, so precious that he embedded it in the leg of his heir. He had the beginning of the story figured out, but I don't think he had a clue how it would all end.

I had no clue how it would all end.

"I pledge my loyalty to the crown and my life to Pliris." The small voice echoes off the high ceilings, like a tiny haunting spirit.

I glance around the great hall finding nothing but the gentle sway of my red and silver banners hanging from the rafters. With light feet, I ease around the first pew. Kneeling in the aisle at the base of the dais is a small figure. Her head of unruly red hair is bowed, and she hold a sword by the hilt with the blade pointed into the ground. The posture is one that many took at the foot of my throne the days after the war.

I slide my hands into my pockets and move closer. "Aren't you supposed to be at your studies, short stack?"

Ansley scurries to her feet with her cheeks burning pink and holds her sword behind her back. "I told my tutor that I needed some time for prayer."

My brows shoot up and I pull my lips down to keep from laughing. Ansley Mansi can't sit still during ceremonies; her mind is racing with thoughts of plotting her next sparring match. The last thing she wants to do is still herself for meditation.

"Shouldn't you be in a meeting to plan your wedding?" she asks, sheathing her dull weapon.

I move to sit on a step of the dais and look down at her. "I thought you told Raelle that you didn't want to discuss the wedding ever again."

Her shoulders drop and she shuffles up the steps to sit next to me, her sword thumping on the stone. "I don't. She says I have to sit with the family, but I want to stand with Leif and the royal guard."

I give her a thoughtful hum. It all makes sense to me now. My tiniest future sister-in-law came here to practice her vows for my guard.

After the war, the time she spent sparring increased and she became obsessed with the guard. The horrors she witnessed that day in Stigian seeded deep inside her. She saw her friends wounded for life and learned that some of them did not survive. The need to protect clicked into place for her. Just like her father, her brother, and her sister, she vowed to do whatever it took to keep those she loved safe. It has become her way of controlling what was an uncontrollable circumstance.

"Maybe we can find a compromise. I'll talk to Raelle about it," I say.

"I would appreciate that." She leans back on her elbows like she has won a battle in her small war. "So, why did you walk out of the meeting?"

I debate if my truth is too heavy for a nine-year-old. But then I remember that she was one of my best voices of reason when Raelle was gone. "I have to use the Imperium tomorrow, and I'm nervous about it."

"Why? The Statera wants you to use it when the time calls for it."

"It's a big responsibility. I've never used a stone without your sister before, but until she is queen, this is something I have to do on my own."

She gives me a look like my words are coming out backward and says, "But you do important things without Raelle all the time. You just made a speech the other day about our new alliance with Allaji. And you signed the papers to promote Terro. And you—"

I clap my hand over her mouth. "I got it, short stack."

She licks my palm and I snap my hand away, wiping it on my pants. "I'm just saying that you do important things all the time. So what's really bothering you about this?"

I mimic her lazy position, resting my elbows on the next step and crossing my ankles. Her question replays in my head. What is bothering me about this? Is it that I'm the one to make a final say about someone's gift? No. If their action warrants it, I have no problem making sure they don't harm themself or others. I've made tough calls that were life or death before. Is it the scrutiny I could receive for my judgements? Definitely not.

I think through the entire process, and to her credit, Ansley patiently waits for my answer. When it comes to me, it steals my breath. I swallow through the pain spreading in my chest and say, "The last time I used a stone alone, I was your age. I was forced to do something terrible with it and it hurt my father."

She glances up at me awestruck. "He died?"

"He did."

Filling her lungs, she folds her hands in her lap. "That's scary."

"It was."

"You said it was something you didn't want to do."

I nod, finding it hard to look at her, not wanting to see her disappointment.

Her small fingers find mine and grip them. "I'm sorry if anyone ever made you feel like you are bad because of that. You're not, Kyron. You are good."

Such simplistic words, yet they pierce that dark part of me that only Raelle has ever seen. They're purity spreads like a wildfire, warming the cold and overwhelming the sadness.

You are good.

You are good.

I run the side of my hand over my eyes, wiping away the tears.

You are good.

Ansley cuddles next to me and wraps her small arms around my waist. She holds tight, putting all her strength into the hug. "Holding the stone and putting someone's gift to sleep is not the same as what you were forced to do." She pulls back and smiles up at me, her brown eyes brimming with compassion. "You were a scared boy then; now, you're a brave king."

"Thank you, short stack."

She stands and lifts her chin. "Don't forget what you promised to talk to Raelle about."

"I won't."

She gives a curt nod and strides toward the hallway I came from.

"Good job, Ans."

I jerk my head up to find Raelle leaning against the archway. She ruffles the top of Ansley's head as she passes while keeping her eyes on me. I can see it in the knowing smile on her face, she heard it all.

Raelle saunters to the dais, her leather pants hugging every curve and the top of her tunic giving me a peek of the soft skin that lies beneath. She stops in front of me, a smirk playing on her lips.

I fold my hands between my knees and stare up at her. "I'm always amazed how that kid knows the right thing to say."

"It's a gift," she says.

"Her gift?"

"Her gift."

I laugh. During all my conversation with the youngest Mansi I felt it. She had a wisdom beyond her years, an intuitiveness about all my emotions. Ansley is a Cognus.

"She is right. You are good. Everyone that matters sees it, even many who don't matter know," Raelle says.

"I've struggled almost my entire life to believe that."

"I wish you didn't. I wish you saw what I quickly learned about you."

She holds out her hand, wiggling her fingers. I stand and take it, opening myself to feel what she does for me. My gift grabs on to that emotion as it flows from her with every beat of her heart—the adoration, the admiration, the love.

I pull her close and kiss her lips. "I feel the same," I say.

"I know and because of that, you're going to finish planning this wedding with me."

My chuckle rumbles in my chest, letting her feel my joy. "Let's get this over with so I can call you my wife."

Stones, crowns, and even war, I could face them all on my own. I could burn kingdoms and build them anew all with my own hands.

But I will never have to.

I have a love that transcends this life and the next. She will always be at my side, and I will always be at hers. Always.