Page 132 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
Seth licks his lips, considering my question for a long time before he says, “I think Percy’s soul enacted Eros’ will. Gave youback what was stolen. I’d expect Freya to be shouting at her lackeys right about now, but they won’t answer to her anymore. The common folk never liked my mother, so there’ll be people dancing in the streets tomorrow. We’ll have to be careful. If she’s alive, she’ll be even more desperate to kill you when we face her again. But I won’t let her anywhere near you.” His voice trembles, but not from doubt or grief. In fact, it’s brimming with happiness.
I flex my knuckles, my toes digging into the earth. “Stand up, pretty boy.”
He obeys, and I cup my hands to gather spring water inside my palms.
“Now that you’re queen, should we still do this? We won’t be able to keep our marriage secret—not with you wearing the crown,” Seth says quietly, his gaze glued to the ground.
I raise his chin with one finger. “If you’re a traitor, I’m a traitor,” I arch my brows, daring him to contradict his own plea. “If you’re exiled, then I’ll come with you. And if I’m queen—” I grin at the word, my breath shaky as hell, unable to keep it all in, my grief momentarily eclipsed by Percy’s final act of healing.
In the end, he did it. Percy fixed me, body and soul.
Relief pulses through me. I’m finally reclaiming my crown, filling that aching emptiness inside—replaced by the hope of a future free of curses, and my love for Seth burning bright, eclipsing everything else.
It’s fucking fabulous.
I was withering before we met, a rose sealed under glass, petals dropping one by one. Safe to a point, but not living. Drowning in regrets, surrounded by the wreckage of everything I thought I’d be. Then Seth tore me out of that glass prison, and loved me even though I fought him every step of the way. After decades in limbo, I’ve lost plenty—endured more than I thought possible—but I’m still here.
The hole left behind by the dreaded arrow that almost carved out my heart has been filled, and the gash in my soul, too. I’m ready to love again. To risk it all. Tolive.
“And if I’m queen, you’re my king,” I finally say, tipping my chin toward my palms to prompt him to drink, too.
He gathers spring water in his cupped hand. “On three. One.”
“Two.”
We share a solemn, yet mischievous grin that lights up his eyes all the way through.
“Three.” Seth drinks the water from the fountain, and I do the same.
The branches go still. Lotus flowers bow against the pond’s surface, as if leaning in to listen. Moonlight turns the droplets sliding from our fingers into strands of liquid silver.
Seth blinks, once, twice. His gaze roams the small island—the mossy ground, the flowers tucked in the tree’s shade, the canopy overhead, and even the clear waters of the pond.
“Did it work?” I ask, wondering if he feels different at all.
He squints at me, then steps one leg between mine, leaning forward and gently pinning me to the trunk of the Hawthorn at my back.
A storm gathers in my stomach, rumbling low, swelling with the promise of bloom after a monsoon. Static electricity prickles along my skin, hairs standing on end, the bond between us snapping into place. The tempest belongs to us both, shared and carried. A piece of him takes root inside me, undeniable, eternal. I feel lighter, my body trembling, like I could turn into rain myself and drip into the earth.
“Shouldn’t we… I don’t know…consummate this marriage?” Seth suggests with a kiss, grounding me.
“Here? Now?” I try to keep a straight face, but a big smile spreads across my lips. “That part wasn’t covered in the legends.”
“Yes, but Eros wouldn’t content herself with a gulp of water, no?” Seth unbuttons my black dress, one button at a time, and spreads it until I’m exposed to him. The gentle breeze tickles my breasts, making them peak, as he explores the places where my old scars used to be, then traces the lines of my tattoo.
The ink glows with a faint golden sheen under his touch, my new skin even more sensitive than it was, like it’s never been touched before. The matching glow of his skin steals my breath. He looks different, yet the same.
He was always meant to wear a crown.
“She’s the goddess of love, but also desire.” His nose drags down the slope of my neck, and my lids flutter, the sensations multiplied tenfold. “Lust.” He plants a hot kiss at the angle of my jaw. “Sex.” He dips a hand under the lace covering my heat, sinking two fingers inside, and groans at the wetness he finds there.
“She’d need more proof. More…worship,” he adds, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to taste my arousal. “Let me show you how much I love you, my queen.”
I hum at the sight and link my arms around his neck. “Yes. That makes sense.”
He rips my underwear off before his hand moves between us. His breeches slip down, and I wrap my legs around him, pressed between the rough bark of the tree and the greedy proof of his desire.
“It appears I’m your fated mate after all,” he murmurs in my ear.
