Page 134 of To Dance with Death

“What anyone else should have done. You shouldn’t thank me for being a human with empathy.”

But I shake my head, drawing back. “It wasn’t just that. I would have given up, but you believed in me when I had no one else in the world. Please, let me have my gratitude.”

I don’t miss the blush staining her cheeks. “Then you must accept mine, too. Know that I am proud of you, my dear. We all are.”

Again I have to swallow tears. But I manage to say, “Is Anton…How is he? And the Syndicate…”

“His Majesty?” Laurent asks. He grins. “Come, we must take you to him. But first, why don’t we get you dressed?”

The throne room is packed, lines of glittering courtiers crowded inside. A session of sorts is in order, it seems, more joining behind us, others pushing inward. It is shoulder to shoulder.

The skirt falls in a short train behind me—a soft lilac pocked with green sea-glass pearls—and the bodice bares my shoulders and neckline. A small shiver travels down my spine. It was one of many gowns Anton helped design for the theater, Laurent had toldme.

He also told me that several representatives from the Syndicate and the Brisendali council arrived yesterday.

From here, I can’t yet see Anton.

“We won’t be able to get to him like this,” he says. “Wait here while I find Basile.”

Laurent, dressed in the finery of a lord, shamelessly carves himself a path into the throng until he’s disappeared altogether. I wait restlessly for some time, my twiddling palms slick with sweat. Will Anton be angry with me for leaving? For returning the mirror in his place?

More so, what will it be like to see him now, after everything? To see him as he was always meant to be: returned to his throne, wholly himself, crowned and glorious before the whole of his court?

I don’t know what path lies ahead of us. Perhaps this will be the end of it. A hug of gratitude, a wish for a happy future. A goodbye, if he needs a more advantageous match.

I tell myself I will understand. I love him nevertheless. I would love him from afar, even if it hurt. I trust him to choose what’s right for him and his kingdom both.

Even if it isn’t me.

Finally, Laurent returns. “Basile is alerting His Majesty to your presence.”

Nerves swarm beneath my skin as we wait once more. Laurent tucks my arm into his. “We are so glad to have you back. You succeeded, Vasalie. You saved him—and all of us.”

“He saved me just as much. And so did all of you.” I squeeze his hand. “Back in Anell, your kindness and company were balms. You forgave me when I didn’t deserve it. You are the type of friend I always dreamed of but never thought I would find.”

Laurent opens his mouth to respond—

But, like the sun breaking through the clouds, the sea of courtiers parts.

I hold back a sob.

Anton’s grin is a shining thing, bright as the aurora, bright as the sea-glass crown atop his head. But I don’t have time to take him in, for the moment he reaches me, he cups my face in his hand. “Is it true? Have you returned to me?”

“I have,” I breathe, and he swipes away the tear that escapes the corner of my eye.

He grins once more. Scoops me up.

Then I’m being hugged to his chest and carried across the length of the throne room until finally he places me down upon something hard.

The throne itself.

A hush falls over the room. Dimly, I see Gustav adjacent to us, grinning, along with a woman I assume must be his wife, her hand linked with his. At least his injuries are healing, as I was told, and he looks well.

And there, before the entirety of the court, Anton kneels before me and takes my hand.

“Vastianna Stova,” he says, his voice echoing in the stillness. So stunned am I that I freeze, my heart ratcheting into my throat. “My council and my court are aware of all that you have done. You have saved me and my people both. You are a hero. Beyond that, I love you ardently, and I never wish to be parted from your side. There is no one more worthy of being the next Miridranian queen.” He squeezes my hand softly, and only then do I realize that I’m crying. “Marry me,” he says. “Be my wife, my love, my queen, my confidante, and my comfort.”

I slither down from the throne and fall into his arms, throwing my own around his neck.