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I’d thought if I could just get to our kingdom, it would all be all right. In reality, things were worse than ever.

The crown was meant for someone stronger. Someone more deserving. Someone who understood diplomacy and strategy. The kind of queen my grandmother had been. The kind of queen my mother would have been.

My cousin was a murderer and his parents the reason our people had lost everything.

The elders were busy playing their power games.

Demos didn’t have time magic.

My kingdom needed a leader.

No, I wasn’t the perfect choice. I was about as far from it as you could get. But my people needed someone who would stand with them. Someone who would fight with them. Someone who cared for them.

I finally understood. And it had nothing to do with anything the elders had said. Nothing to do with the words my aunt had continually murmured in my ear.

A crown wasn’t just a title or a symbol. It was a promise. A promise that I would do whatever was necessary to protect my people.

Asinia’s words echoed in my head.“No one gets to choose if you’re worthy of that crown except you.”

I stared across the sea toward my kingdom, and I made a vow.

I may not be a worthy ruler yet. But I would become one.

Not for the elders.

Certainly not for myself.

For my grandmother, who had loved her people with a fierce, all-consuming love that had turned to helpless rage.

For my parents, who had led their people through the Asric Pass, only to watch as their safe haven was destroyed once more.

And for the hybrids themselves, who had been hiding and suffering and dying under Regner’s rule.

No, I wasn’t perfect. There were many people who could likely rule far better than I could. I would stumble and fall. But each time, I would rise. I would grow stronger. I would become the queen my people deserved.

And no one would fight harder for them than I would.

Taking a deep breath, I allowed the weight of my decision to settle on my shoulders. It was heavy. But when I looked back at who I’d already become since I’d left my village, I felt…pride.

I thought back to that village girl, who wanted nothing more than a small life. Peace, quiet, predictability. For the first time, I wasn’t ashamed of those wants. I didn’t blame her for them. I was still attempting to unravel the ways Vuena had twisted my mind. The way Papa had attempted to erase her work.

But that village girl wouldn’t win us a war. So, I took those dreams of an uninterrupted life.

And I said goodbye.

When I turned, Lorian was standing just foot-spans behind me, watching me with dark eyes.

“The elders won’t help me. They say I’m not enough.” I’d managed to slap a bandage over that wound, and my tone was factual, voice clear.

Lorian’s nostrils flared. “That doesn’t make sense.”

My heart strained. He’d always seen the best in me. Always seen the potential. I hoped he still would by the time this war was over.

“Wildcat.” He stepped closer and grabbed my shoulders. “What exactly did they say?”

“I’m not yet ready to be queen, and they won’t help. Oh, and I can’t keep you. As if we didn’t already know that.”

Lorian bared his teeth in a feral smile. “I’ll ignore that last part for now.Think, Prisca. Why would they turn you away?”