Page 179 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

The door creaked softly as I stepped inside.

The room was empty.

No Zander. No noise. Just the gentle hush of firelight flickering from the hearth and the faint scent of lavender, clean, calm, intentional.

It was pristine. Not a single piece of clothing out of place. The bed was made tightly, the fur throw folded with surgical precision. Everything was… immaculate. Too immaculate, as if it had been reset.

The last time I’d been here, blood had stained the sheets, and Zander had been clinging to life by a thread. Now, the room looked untouched. Restored.

Except for the small box on the dresser.

It sat perfectly centered, polished wood gleaming in the light, the royal crest stamped into the lid in molten gold. The edges were wrapped in a thin band of crimson silk, delicate but exacting in its craftsmanship. This wasn’t just decoration. This was something meant to be seen.

Curiosity pulled me forward before I could stop myself. I reached out, fingers brushing over the carved crest, the raised insignia warm beneath my touch.

I lifted the lid.

Inside, nestled in dark velvet, was the most beautiful ring I had ever seen.

It shimmered with woven bands of pale silver and deep storm-gray metal, braided like wind threading through steel. At its center sat a dragonstone gem, glinting with flickers of purple and blue, as though caught in the very breath of a storm. Runes etched along the inside flickered faintly, reacting to my presence.

It was alive with magic.

It wasn’t just beautiful, it was powerful. A symbol. A warning. A promise.

Had it been left here… for me?

My heart fluttered wildly as I stared at the ring, its magic humming like a song I somehow already knew. It shimmered with Kaelith’s color, stormlight and flame, woven into metal andstone. It didn’t just look powerful, it felt sacred. Like it had weight in the world, and meaning beyond what I could see.

Is this for me?

The question echoed, trembling in my chest.

My fingers hovered over it, almost touching the velvet edge, when the door creaked open behind me.

I spun, hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at my thigh.

She stepped inside like she owned the room. No—like she belonged in every room.

Tall. Regal. Unshakably composed.

Her golden hair spilled in smooth, soft waves down her back, gleaming like sunlight through crystal. Her eyes were cool blue, sharp, watchful, impossible to read. And the gown she wore was the finest I had ever seen, deep-wine velvet with gold-threaded embroidery along the bodice and sleeves, the sort of thing you only ever saw in court portraits. A delicate circlet rested atop her head, not quite a crown, but close.

She looked like a queen.

Her gaze flicked to me, then to the box, then back again—no emotion, just the faintest arch of one perfect brow.

“That ring,” she said, her voice low and cultured, “belonged to Zander’s mother.”

I swallowed, the air suddenly heavier. “It’s… beautiful.”

She stepped closer, her heels making no sound against the polished floor. Her hand hovered over the box, but she didn’t touch it.

“It was forged in the first decade of the Unification,” she said softly, eyes still on the ring. “Created by the finest fae-smith and dragon-forged in fire blessed by the Unifier himself.”

I blinked. “The first king’s dragon?”

She nodded once. “It was a gift to the queen from her husband’s dragon. Not just a token of affection, but a bondmark. Symbol of unity between rider and his chosen. Between bloodlines and dragons.”