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Knocking on the door, I cracked it open, following the voices I could hear into one of the bedrooms.

Telean stood behind Prisca, fiddling with something in her hair, and when she stepped aside, I let out an audible gasp.

Prisca looked ethereal. Her long blond curls had been left loose, tiny white flowers woven into the strands. But it was the diadem she also wore that stole my breath.

I’d seen it once before—when she was preparing to meet with Eryndan. Prisca had been uncomfortable, still fighting against her role as hybrid queen.

The band was made from twisting white-gold vines and dotted with diamonds, while the emerald centerpiece dipped low, to the middle of her forehead.

Telean had obviously known this announcement was coming—and who Prisca would ask to stand with her, because she’d worked magic of her own, procuring dresses for Prisca, Madinia and me.

Clearly, no one had told Telean that Madinia had refused.

Prisca’s dress hung on the closet. It was a color I couldn’t name—not gold, not bronze, but something in between. Two other dresses hung close by, with flower crowns waiting on the vanity.

Once, long ago, Prisca and I had planned our weddings. I’d told her I would wear whatever she liked, so long as she crowned me with flowers.

Now, it seemed ludicrous. But even while we were atwar, when this wedding would be nothing like she’d once imagined, Prisca had still remembered.

Telean nodded at the dress on the right. “Go on, then. Put it on so I can take a look.”

I complied, and Prisca’s eyes shone as Telean stepped behind me to button the silky material.

“It fits well,” Telean remarked, and I gazed in the mirror.

The dress was a dark green that shimmered when the light hit it. The material gently cupped my breasts, tucked in at my waist, and fell elegantly over my hips, the long train sliding fluidly across the floor.

I grabbed the flower crown and placed it on my head. Prisca grinned at me. “Happy?”

“Of course.”

Telean smiled at us. “You both look beautiful.” She was clearly being careful not to mention the other dress, still hanging nearby. Occasionally, I wanted to slap Madinia. But I hadn’t been there when that hybrid camp was attacked. And after what she’d said to Tor…

She was suffering.

“Now, I believe I’ll go find my seat.”

Prisca leaned down and kissed Telean’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Telean’s eyes gleamed, and she turned, bustling out.

“It feels like tempting fate to be this happy,” Prisca said. “To celebrate anything. But…in the days after Lorian asked me to marry him, I kept thinking about how Cavis should have been there with Rythos, Marth, and Galon. And I kept wondering who else wouldn’t make it to our wedding. If we would even get to be married.”

I took her hand. I hated that those were the thoughts she was thinking on her wedding day. “These moments are reminders, Pris. Reminders of what we’re fighting for. They give us hope.You’vegiven us hope.”

Prisca squeezed my hand, her eyes glistening. “Thank you. And…I never got to thank you properly for keeping Demos alive.”

“You know you don’t have to thank me for that.”

“Yes. But I’m doing it anyway. Having both of my brothers so far away…it was awful. I had to actively force myself not to spiral, thinking about all the things that could go wrong. But knowing all three of you were together, and that you would keep one another safe…that was enough to get me through the fear.”

The door opened. I turned, meeting Madinia’s eyes. And I gave her a warning look. If she dared to upset Prisca today…

Madinia’s gaze slid past me. “I’ll do it,” she muttered. “I’ll wear the stupid dress. I’ll even wear…that.” Her nose wrinkled at the flower crown on my head, and I attempted to stifle my grin.

“Are you sure?” Prisca arched an eyebrow, her voice cool. “I wouldn’t want toforceyou to be my friend.”

Madinia curled her lip. Stalking to the vanity, she picked up the flower crown and shoved it on her head. It leaned drunkenly to one side. “Happy now?”