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She pulled away, and Thorn’s heart lurched—no, don’t leave—but then Zaf, beaming at her, leaned in and kissed Thorn’s cheek.

Warmth blossomed on Thorn’s face and in her chest and down her arms. She touched two fingers to the spot Zaf had kissed. The last time Zaf had kissed her, she had jumped off the queen’s terrace to save Brier.

This time, Zaf stayed right where she was.

“Will you hold my hand?” Thorn whispered. Her cheeks were unbearably hot. “I’m nervous.”

Zaf’s smile was like the parting of clouds. She slipped her hand into Thorn’s and held on tight, and together they walked into the throne room.

Queen Celestyna’s court had gathered there, dressed in their finest gowns and suits and cloaks and coats. So had citizens of Aeria—hundreds of them.

Thorn looked only once at the watching, waiting, whispering crowd. Even with the strength of Brier’s and Zaf’s hands around her own, and Mazby on her shoulder, and Quicksilver and Ari at her back, seeing so many people felt a little like that moment when she’d first ridden Noro down the Westlin cliffs to an unknown world.

But then Thorn saw her mother and father, beaming at her from the front row of chairs.

She saw Brier’s stormwitch friends in seats of honor beside her parents. The tallest boy among them, his white hair in a messy bun on his head, gazed at Brier with shining eyes.

She saw Noro, waiting for them by the throne, his clean coat gleaming like the far moon. He ducked his head as Thorn approached, and Mazby climbed up his snout to settle in the soft tuft of hair between Noro’s ears. His feathers ruffled with pleasure.

Thorn took a breath and faced the new queen.

Queen Orelia was not the youngest queen the Vale had seen, but she was the only one in generations to take the throne with a full head of golden hair. No silver or gray hair mixed in with the rest. No lavender or periwinkle streaks, painted by an old curse.

No bright red curls, colored crimson from a pain no child should know.

Queen Orelia wore a silver gown and a cloak that glittered. Her new slender crown gleamed in her hair.

“Zaf of the stormwitches,” said Queen Orelia. “Brier Skystone. Quicksilver and Ari of the Star Lands.” The queen, smiling, looked last of all at Thorn. “Thorn Skystone. Over the past weeks, each of you has done extraordinary things in service of the Vale. You have sacrificed. You have listened. You have raised your voices to say things few could believe and even fewer wanted to hear.”

Orelia paused. Tears shimmered in her eyes; it had not been long since her sister’s death.

“Without your courage,” she continued, “we would not be standing here today. The Vale would have fallen. Not to a monster, but to our own ignorance and fear. For many years we looked elsewhere to find the reason for our suffering. But if we had found the courage to look more closely at ourselves, at the things we did without thinking of why we did them, we would have suffered much less.” Queen Orelia’s gaze moved to Zino and the stormwitches. “And others would have suffered much less because of us.”

Thorn squeezed Zaf’s hand.

Zaf gently squeezed back.

“Thank the storms, then,” said the queen, “that all of you found the courage for us.”

Queen Orelia turned to Lord Dellier, who held a violet cushion in his hands. Atop it rested five glittering medallions bound to satin ribbons.

“For you, Zaf,” said the queen, “I offer this in thanks: a position in my court, as ambassador to the nation of stormwitches. My hope is that by working together, we can repair the damage my family has done to your people, and bring the rest of them home.”

Zaf bowed her head. “I accept this offer, Your Majesty, and pledge to serve both you and my people for as long as I am able.”

The queen placed the medallion around Zaf’s neck, and then turned next to Brier.

“For you, Brier Skystone,” said the queen, “I offer this in thanks: a pardon for the acts you and your fellow harvesters committed under orders of the crown. Your mission, as a member of my royal offices, will be to oversee the exploration of the mountains of the Vale, to search for more stormwitches that may linger lost in the wild. To guide them home. And towork with the witches of the Star Lands, and the royal forgers, to free the stormwitches who now lie trapped inside our stores of eldisks.”

The queen smiled, blew out a nervous breath. Suddenly she looked very much the young girl that she was. “That was a lot to say, wasn’t it?”

Zaf burst out laughing, as did many in the gathered crowd. The room had been holding its breath, and now the air felt lighter.

“I thank you for your offer and for your words, Your Majesty,” said Brier, ducking her head, “and I happily accept this task.”

After the queen had placed Brier’s medallion around her neck, she turned to Quicksilver and Ari.

“Quicksilver Foxheart and Ari Tarkalia of the Star Lands,” said the queen. “I offer this in thanks: a forever friendship. You will always be welcome here in the Vale, and I hope this is only the beginning of our adventures together.”