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Mother smiled. “As a first step, yes. Brother Enoch.” She moved only her face this time, not her body.

“You are a faithful servant of Elyon, and he will use you exactly as you pray he will, to rekindle the love of him in the people and encourage more followers to dedicate themselves to the holy life.”

Enoch’s eyes slid shut. “I pray I am worthy of such an honor.”

Then her mother turned to her, and Arden couldn’t spare any more attention to the friar.

She reached out and smoothed down a few wind-tousled locks of Arden’s hair.

“I have never left you,” she said softly.

“When my arms could no longer hold you, I returned to the skies. And from there, I have kept watch every day of your life.”

She blinked against the burning of her eyes. She wouldn’t cry, not now, not when it would blur this vision. “It wasn’t the mark of the day Jade was born,” she whispered.

Her mother smiled. “A happy coincidence. But no. It was the day I left. The day that my friend chased after me and threw herself into labor,” she said, nodding toward Sapphire.

“To quote your beloved, it was you. It was always you.” She leaned forward and pressed firm, cool lips to Arden’s cheek.

“Do not be afraid of this reality—it has always been who you are. There is no world in which that wouldn’t have come out.

No world in which you would not have ended up right where you are.

Just enjoy all it means. Embrace it. Let your beloved teach you what he can—and I will show you the rest as we fly again in a few days. ”

The way her heart thudded made Arden aware that she’d thought, feared, worried that her mother’s appearance now marked the end of her flights with Ora. But she had promised that they would rescue Jade. Still, hearing her promise more soothed that unnamed worry. Arden nodded.

Her mother did too, and then another of those strange, light-piercing shudders coursed through her.

She didn’t need to say that her time in this human form was at its end, that was obvious.

She merely drew Arden in for another hug, clapped a hand to Seidon’s shoulder, and then turned toward the sea.

Wind whirled and keened, and even as the tingling in Arden’s fingers told her she was the one causing the gusts, she couldn’t think of how to stop them. They were the sobs her chest wouldn’t heave, they were the cry for her mother that had been trapped inside all these years, silent and dormant.

Angelica rolled her shoulders, and it looked as though dull paint cracked all over her skin, letting gold spill out beneath it.

Then she ran toward the water, and the wild whipping of her feathered gown turned into wings, made of light rather than feathers.

They spread wide, and she leapt, her wings catching the wind, arms held out, toes pointed down.

For half a heartbeat she soared there in what must be her true form—pure light, fierce and fearsome.

Then she dove into a tumble, reemerging as Ora, great wings flapping her way up and over the sea, back into the circle still wheeling overhead.

Only once she’d rejoined the other hawks did Arden manage to lower her head. To turn to face Seidon. Her parents, her cousin. And the terrified crowd behind them.

What had all that looked like to them? Had they heard any of the words?

Had they put together that she, always a tagalong, an outcast among them, really wasn’t like them?

That she was…what? Only half human? Half…

hawk? Angel? None of these people had ever really looked at her before. Now they stared with horror.

Seidon took her hands, raised them both to his mouth, and kissed them. When he’d done that before the Ceremony, it had made a pleasant shiver move down her arm, straight to her heart. Now, it lit pure fire in her veins. She could barely remember how to swallow.

That mischievous smile she loved on his lips, he lowered himself to one knee.

And then, for some reason, everyone else did the same. First Enoch, then her family, and then, inexplicably, every single person in the crowd.

“What are you doing?” she whisper-shouted to Seidon, tugging on his hands to make him stand again.

He ignored her, a chuckle in his throat. “Well I was going to propose again. I daresay everyone else, however, is recognizing their queen.”

“Their…” Her throat went dry, tight. She shook her head. “I’m not a queen.” How could she be, when everyone looked at her like that? With such horror?

Or was it…awe?

“Oh, love.” Seidon kissed her hand again, this time on the palm, where no Awakening mark scored her flesh, though her arm pulsed with it.

“Of course you are. To quote your mother, there is no world in which you aren’t.

And if you want to go and claim your kingdom on your own, you know I will stand beside you.

I will wait a century for you, if that’s what you need.

But…” He stroked his thumbs over her hand, and the fire danced.

In his eyes, just as it did in her blood.

“I’d rather you join yours to mine. That you let me come along for the discovering.

That you accept my kingdom as your own—accept me as your own.

Let me be your husband, Arden. Be my wife. Be my queen.”

The old instinct was still so strong, demanding that she was not fit to be a queen, his or anyone else’s. She was no royal. No anointed. No Awakened.

And yet the fire coursed through her, and the wind danced as she looked into his eyes, and even though she wasn’t sure it wasn’t weakness that made her say it rather than strength—how could she resist him?

How could she deny herself a taste of this fire?

—she could no more deny the words than she could the call of the wind. “Yes. I’ll marry you. I’ll—yes.”

He surged back to his feet, his arms coming around her and his mouth finding hers, and she kissed him until wind and water spiraled around them. Then pulled away to watch the strange display as it hovered there a moment more before drifting back to the ground.

The people took to their feet again too, shouting and clapping. From somewhere in the back of the crowd she heard, “Long live King Seidon and Queen Arden!”

And from somewhere closer, “May they live a thousand years and their rule encompass the world!”

Seidon chuckled and pressed another kiss to her lips. “I think,” he said, gaze looking as overheated as she felt, “this should be a short engagement. Maybe an hour or two. I mean, we have a priest right here, and the chapel isn’t far…”

“Absolutely not!” Enoch stepped closer, his face at once determined and amused.

“You will at least wait until tomorrow, when the cathedral has been prepared. The Sea King and the Queen of the Skies will not wed in an island chapel. It isn’t fitting.

You must wed where the channels wait to give their Mercy. ”

Queen of the Skies? She had to blink at that one.

Seidon sighed. “Fine. Tomorrow then.”

Tomorrow? Was he serious? He certainly looked like it, and the thrill pushed back the old fears.

Not to mention that with his arms still around her, longing for him left little room for practical thoughts like wise betrothal times.

All she could be sure of was that she loved this man with a force to rival the sun.

She wanted to be his wife—today, tomorrow, forever.

“Tomorrow sounds good,” she managed to whisper.

She looked over to her parents when they crowded in too. Papa was grinning.

Mama, on the other hand, scowled. “We can’t put a wedding together in a day, Your Majesty. She needs a dress—”

“She already has one.” He winked down at her. “Don’t you, love? I had it cleaned after the ball. Just waiting for another time to make you wear it. And I assure you, my lady, you can command the entire staff of the palace to help you pull it off.”

Mama’s objection turned to pleasure. “Well in that case—we had better get to work.”