Page 130 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
I kiss him, unable to put into words all the things I want to say.
Mostly: thank you for being here, for being you. I hope you’ll stay with me forever.
The kiss is chaste, but deep—like the end of one chapter and the start of a new one. Percy knew, all along, that my heart belonged to Seth.
He knew me better than I know myself, but the time has come to say goodbye.
I press my palms to the thin cover of overturned earth. “I will love you forever, diamantay,” I whisper.
Eros help me, I cry.
I cry for all the times I didn’t. The dams in my soul break wide open. Salt and sorrow fall to the earth, gliding between the dead leaves before being absorbed by the sponge of moss covering the ground.
Seth holds me. Helps me carry the weight of this grief that would’ve toppled me on my own.
I feel different in his arms, like I might survive this. Like I can go on.
Even if it hurts like the fires of the seven hells.
When the sobs have dwindled, I slap my knees to summon the strength to speak again. “We shouldn’t stay too long, or we might risk being spotted by a patrol.”
Seth threads his fingers into my flamboyant curls and forces me to look at him.
He’s been crying, too—though his eyes now shine clear and purple.
“What?” I ask.
“Devi Eros. Will you marry me?”
Chapter 42
Body and Soul
DEVI
Iwipe the last of my tears and smile. Deep down, my Storm prince is a romantic.
“Aren’t we already engaged? I thought we were,” I tease.
“I mean here. Now.”
My brows furrow, and I search the heavenly scenery. The moonlight plays with the shifting branches and leaves, streaking through the canopy with every gust of wind. It’s true that it’d make for a wonderful setting for a wedding, but alas… “We have no officiant, no kindreds, no ceremonial knife?—”
“We’re in Eros’ sacred forest. We don’t need any of that. A couple who drinks from Eros’ Fountain is immediately wed under her eyes. No witness needed.”
I gape at him. This isn’t the kind of marriage we’re used to in Spring, or anywhere else on the Fae continent. No, it’s rare because it demands something almost as impossible to find as it is beautiful. Something Spring Fae whisper about when they’re intoxicated or yearning.
A legend every other realm dismisses as a foolish myth.
“But the Fountain doesn’t allow just anyone to marry, only?—”
“Fated mates.” He pecks my lips. “I love you, witch. And I’m not ashamed to say it. I never loved anyone else as I love you. You were made for me, and I was made for you.”
My heart somersaults, but I shake my head. “The crowns will punish you. If we come back from our mission already married, they’ll brand you a traitor.”
He nuzzles the back of my ear, his hot breath making all the hairs on my neck stand at attention. “If you’re a traitor, then so am I. If you’re exiled again, I will go with you. Besides, even if they gave permission, do you really want to get married in front of the seven crowns? With my mother there, ready to stab you while no one’s looking? With your father watching us as we consummate our love?”
I grimace at the thought.
