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I’m left standing alone in a large room with herringbone floors and a large French window that looks out onto a balcony. A bouquet of white roses sits on top of the marble framed fireplace and the wall is covered in large canvases of abstract art.

Rowan emerges from an adjoining door, his torso bare, black pants hanging low on his hips. For a moment, I forget how to breathe. It’s been only seven days since I’ve seen him, but it feels like a lifetime.

He pauses, a grin spreading across his face.

“Miss me?” he asks, his voice low and teasing.

I don’t answer. Instead, I close the distance between us, throwing my arms around him. His laugh rumbles in his chest as he holds me close, his hands warm against my back.

“I did,” I whisper into his hair. “So much.”

He chuckles, his voice low and comforting as his hand runs down my back. “I missed you too, Lexie.”

I pull back, realizing why he’s shirtless. “Oh shit, your tattoo,” I gasp, stepping away like he burns. “I’m so sorry!”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he laughs, brushing off my concern. “It doesn’t hurt. Do you want to see it?”

I nod, swallowing hard. When he turns, the air leaves my lungs. Spanning his back is an intricate two-headed serpent, its scales rendered with breathtaking detail. It blends seamlessly with his older tattoo, the lines weaving together in perfect harmony, fresh ink against old. I reach out before I can stop myself, tracing the serpent’s winding form with my fingers. The skin is slightly red but healing well.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathe.

He turns back to face me, his eyes soft. “There’s something else I wanted to show you.”

I frown, but then my gaze drops to his chest, and I see it. Fresh black ink scrolled over his heart in fine ink:XIX VI.

The same tattoo I’ve had on my chest for two years.

“Rowan…” My voice falters.

“June 19,” he says softly. “The most important day of my life. Because it led me here. To you.”

Emotion tightens my throat. I reach out, my fingers ghosting over the ink. “You didn’t have to…”

“Yes, I did,” he cuts in, his tone firm. “You’re part of me, Alex. Always.”

Before I can respond, his lips are on mine, and the rest of the world falls away. His kiss is all-consuming, a collision of heady desire and something deeper. My hands tangle in his hair as my body melts against his. Heat coils low in my belly, and a moan escapes my lips. I need him so badly it almost hurts.

“Rowan, please—can we…”

A knock interrupts us. He sighs, his forehead resting against mine. “I have to go.”

I step back, my pulse still racing. “Right,” I say, fighting my disappointment. “Good luck tonight,” I tell him, my voice steady. “Remember, this is exactly where you belong.”

He nods, his eyes lingering on me. “We’ll pick up where we left off,” he promises, flashing a grin before pulling on his shirt. I nod, slipping out of the room, knowing that when I see him again, he will be something else completely or maybe he’ll finally be himself.

The air in the great hall is electric, a buzzing current of expectation humming through the space. The crowd has grown larger, the low hum of conversations blending with the soft melodies of the string instruments. Halle spots me immediately, waving excitedly as she makes her way over.

“Well?” she whispers, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

I try to hold back a smile, the memory of Rowan’s tattoo still vivid. Before I can answer, a bell tolls, the chime silencing the crowd instantly, conversations halting mid-sentence as all eyes turn toward the raised dais at the far end of the hall.

Cordelia Qing appears, dressed in a deep green robe that shimmers faintly under the golden light, similar to the one Jonathan wore during The Choosing.

Her gaze sweeps the room, sharp and assessing. There’s a regal quality to her, an authority honed by years among Queen’s Peak’s elite. When she speaks, her voice carries the clipped precision of someone who expects obedience.

“Good evening to the most illustrious family in Senna,” she begins. “Tonight, we celebrate a new dawn, a new age for The Snake. Tonight, a prince becomes a king as we honour a tradition that has bound us for generations. Tonight, it is my great honour to crown our new Head of The Snake.”

The room erupts in applause, their eyes sparkling, excitement brewing. “The third son of our former and honourable Head, Zaina Vasilyev, I welcome you Rowan Vasilyev as our new leader.”