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He raises a hand, making an ‘o’ with his forefinger and thumb. “Flawless.”

Adeline blushes. “Thank you.”

“Okay,” Pace says, dipping down to give me a slow kiss. He pulls back a scant inch, grinning. “Just wanted to see you before the Ascension.”

I grab his tie—green silk—and adjust the knot. “Your game is really on point today.”

“Every day,” he calls, tossing a wave as he ushers his siblings out the door.

Adeline visibly gathers herself. “Are we ready then?”

She oversaw the planning of the entire event, from the chairs to the place we put them. Even though she’s a stickler for preserving East End tradition, she’s well aware of the pain and trauma associated with the ceremonial room in the palace. The harm it’s caused so many Princesses, including herself, can’t be ignored. So we didn’t.

She embraced the idea of something fresh and new—a place that truly represents the ideas of creation.

My solarium.

The result is something out of a fairytale. The enclosed space is filled with winter plants, primarily the bright red from the poinsettias, which, along with a metric-ton of fairy lights, give the room a lush warmth.

“Now,” Adeline begins, passing J.J. to me, “you’ll just head down the aisle carrying the baby. Obviously, this ceremony is a little unconventional since the King is only seven weeks old, but the protocol is the same. Your Princes will take the lead.”

I give her a gentle grin. “Thank you, Adeline.”

“No, Verity,” she says, touching her heart. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to be part of this historic moment.” With a deep breath and a flourish, she leads us out of the parlor and toward the doors of the solarium.

Immediately, I hear the first strains of music.

Cello music.

Peering past the people crowding between the edges of the flower beds and the purple carpet, I see Wicker playing, body curled around the instrument as he draws the bow back. His blonde hair is in fine form, swaying with each drag of the bow.

Leaning down, I whisper to Justice, “That’s your talented daddy,” and take the first step.

The walk down this aisle feels different than it did those times in the ceremonial room. There’s no pain waiting for me at the end of it. Justice has the blessing of the members of PNZ, who are flanking the aisle, along with the women from our court. I see the faces of my tormentors, now my supporters. Tommy and Heather. Lakshmi and Kira.

I also see the faces of friends. Rory Livingston. Lavinia Lucia. Story Austin. My West End brothers—all three—are attending, as well as some of the cutsluts, Maggie and Kathleen close to Lav.

Pace’s new family sits near the front, his mother beautiful in a darker green, while Micha and Michaela turn to watch my progress up the aisle.

Even the Baron King is here, donned in his bronze devil’s mask, a veiled woman at his side. Hiswife.

And then, there’sthem. I look toward the end of the path, seeing my Princes. Lex’s amber eyes glow as he watches me grow nearer, and Pace stands with his hands clasped behind his back, chin held high.

But even through the brightness and eagerness, I can’t help but think of the people who can’t be here, but should.

Eugene.

Laura.

Stella.

As in all PNZ ceremonies, there’s a throne, but as in all things newly Sinclarian, it’s been renovated. We had the throne I became Princess on stripped down, the insertion device removed. Now, the seat is covered in a plush, green velvet.

When I reach the head of the aisle, Pace shifts to make room for me, ducking down to kiss me on the cheek, and then Justice. “On. The. Floor,” he whispers, winking. “Five hours. Maybe four.”

I shiver.

Lex’s hand grazes my lower back before he steps in front of the throne, facing the audience. It’s uncharacteristic for him to wear his hair down at these sorts of events, but it’s draped over his shoulders in loose waves, the gold of his eyes accentuated by his own green tie.