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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHARLOTTE

" I left to wed the Prince of Solmane, only to finally realize that I am a princess of Evergrove."

I stood before the gathered crowd in a simple dress. I'd almost come out in leathers but thought that would be too much on this, my first address as their queen. The gathered crowd—nobles in embroidered silks, merchants in practical wool cloaks, commoners in work-worn linen—stood in wary silence.

They didn’t trust me.

Why should they?

I had been a ghost in my own home, a princess who never looked beyond the gilded walls of the manor to see the toil of the merchant class, who dined among the nobility but never truly saw them, who passed the servants in the halls without knowing their names or the burdens they carried.

They had all been shadows at the edges of my world, faceless and voiceless.

I had never asked about their lives, never wondered what dreams they held or what struggles they endured beneath my mother’s rule.

I had been wrapped in silks and expectations, my world no larger than the path laid out before me.

I had let my mother’s reign crush them beneath debt and neglect, just as she had tried to do to me.

"I renounced the throne of Solmane."

That got a rise out of them.

The nobles clutched at their chests, their fingers curling possessively around jeweled brooches and golden chains, as if my words might somehow strip them of their wealth and privilege.

There was a collective sigh through the merchant class ranks.

The sound carried the weight of fatigue rather than shock.

Their hands twitched as though already tallying the cost of this shift in power, calculating what it would mean for their stalls, their trade routes, their profit margins.

The servants, however, were still as stone, their spines stiff with the quiet endurance of those who had seen rulers come and go while they always remained at the bottom.

What difference did it make who sat in the manor if they would still rise before dawn, still serve the same meals, still bow and scrape and fade into the background?

"Some may say Avarix will punish us because I didn’t make the vow he demanded. It was the Mother Sun and the Daughter Moon that blessed King Adom's union with one of our own. It is the suns that shine their light on Evergrove and will return us to prosperity."

The sky above was no longer veiled in shadow.

The eclipse was over. Lyra’s light dominated the heavens.

Avarix hovered faintly in the distance, a pale remnant of the night, but it felt weak—diminished.

Good. Avarix had never been a friend to me.

His cold light cast judgment over every misstep I’d ever made.

I wouldn’t bow to him, not now, not ever.

Lyra burned bright, defiant against her mother’s dominance. I found a kinship in her light. She refused to be overshadowed, to be silenced, to be ruled by a mother who only cared for her light. I whispered a silent promise to myself: Neither will I .

Jorge had been my Lyra, fierce and unwavering.

But he’d also been my Solara, selfless and giving, protecting me even when I didn’t deserve it.

He never asked for my compliance, never demanded that I shape myself to fit his desires.

He would have died for me—might already have.

That thought struck me like a blade. I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms. I couldn’t let it end like this.

“We have the tools we need to rebuild, to grow stronger. And many of those tools came from someone who wasn’t even one of us. A human. Jorge.

“Jorge didn’t just survive in Evergrove—he thrived. He found ways to coat metals so they wouldn’t harm us. He cared for our animals, ensuring their strength and health. He created nighttime irrigation to help our crops bloom when Avarix’s light failed us.

"Jorge was taken from us three years ago.

But he didn't stop fighting. He fought his way out of the Convergence Games.

He fought for us in the Troll Wars to become the second commander to King Adom.

He has always fought for us. Now I'm going to fight for him, and when I find him, he will be your king. "

Another murmur went through the crowd. Some fairies bristled.

Some nodded their assent. There was no overwhelming consensus of my declaration for Jorge's role in this society.

We wouldn't have a smooth way, but nothing had been easy about our love since its beginning. What were a few more ruffled wings?

"I'll need help finding him and for the fight that will ensue. Who's with me?"

"I'll go with you. "

His voice cut through the crowd like a blade, slicing through every worry, every plan, every stubborn wall I had built to hold myself together.

My spine locked, my grip tightening around the dagger at my side.

The sunlight caught the steel, but I could barely see it.

My vision blurred, my ears rang, my pulse roared.

I turned, frantically searching the sea of faces, desperate and terrified all at once. And then—I saw it.

A hand rose above the crowd. Not flesh and bone, but metal and power.

A sob tore from my throat, raw and unbidden, and I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t contain the flood of emotion that crashed over me.

Jorge stood there, grinning, as if the last three years had never happened. As if he hadn’t been ripped from me three days ago, hadn’t been thrown into hell, hadn’t fought and bled and clawed his way back to me.

"Or we can stay, and you can come here into my arms where you belong."

I didn’t think.

I ran.