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Could Ambrose save me? Could his magic light the way? I trusted the man completely, but even I had my doubts. What could the candle tell me that I didn’t already know? I was queen, and I had my duties. My people survived, but they did not live. They needed grain and meat, they needed heat. My choice could give them these things. Conversely, if I angered every delegate in the room, it could ensure they never saw them again. That they would starve or freeze to death.

I could not let that happen.

Yet, I knew already where I stood, who felt right in my arms and in my heart. I had fought so hard to become queen, but now that I understood what it meant, what it truly meant in terms of sacrifice, I ached with loss before I had even made my choice.

The candle burst to life, the whole thing from flame to base turning golden in my hand. Wisps of light threaded through the room, and many in the crowd began to shimmer, taking on a veiled reality. I saw shifters and pixies and trolls glimmering over the surface of my subjects, who stood unaware of the magic working around them. The castle, too, looked transformed. A hint of green vines traced the walls and an echo of laughter clattered through the halls. No, that wasn’t quite right. The walls themselves seemed to be laughing.

I turned to the suitors. They emitted a soft red glow. And was that the stench of… rot. Nothing too menacing, but a clear warning, like fish soup turned bad.

Finally, I looked back at Ambrose. He stood bathed in a halo of gold, it turned his eyes luminescent green. “What magic did you breathe into this candle?” I asked, amazed.

He looked confused at my confusion. “A simple revealing spell. It should show you the path to keeping your throne.”

“I think it’s revealing more than that,” I said.

“Are you sure?”

“Aye.”

“But it is showing you the path?” he asked.

“Aye,” I said, tracing the golden light with my eyes which seemed to shine down from the vaulted ceiling, capturing him in its ring. He pulsated with warmth, like the collective memories of that lost night twenty-seven years ago when magic returned. Could it be as simple as that? Simply choose my heart? What would it be like to belong, not just to a kingdom or to duty, but to a simple man who kept bees and crafted candles? To be wanted, not for my crown, but for myself. I thought it might be the best thing in the world, and it might be worth a kingdom to choose desire over duty.

But, at least according to the candle, that was the best part about it. I didn’t need to choose. Ambrose was also the best choice for Frostvale. How? I didn’t care. I simply trusted the magic Ambrose had crafted so carefully. I trusted him.

“I choose you,” I said softly.

The candle sparked harder, threads of gold now streaming out of it like banners, but I couldn’t bear to look away from his unfathomably deep, green eyes. I could hear the inevitable roar of dismay from suitors and their retinues and most of my council members, but there was also cheering from the Honeywood Haven residents, mostly Wyot and Mika.

He moved closer as if in a daze, his hand finding mine.

The moment we touched, the candle roared in our clasped hands, and a deep boom reverberated like a cannon shot in the air above us. It glittered for a moment before exploding into fiery sparks above our heads.

“What’s happening?” I asked, finally tearing myself out of the cocoon we’d woven around us.

“I think our magic is supercharging the revealing spell.”

A warm breeze slid through the arrowslits, like damp spring grass and heavily scented lily-of-the-valleys. It smelled like moss and humus soil and gray-topped velvet mushrooms. A vine curled down from the ceiling, a real one, just like in the frescoes of my forgotten chapel. Someone threw open a door and revealed the snow melting, drawing back into the woods and leaving the trees dripping wet.

I stared around the ballroom. “I think it revealed everything, Ambrose.”

Half of the residents of Honeywood Haven had begun their own transformation. Lorcan howled at the moon, fur rippling down his spine, his face punctuated with yellow, canine eyes. Duskborne’s fangs extended past his lips, and Noll grew until his shoulders scraped the ceiling.

Magic. Half of the population of Frostvale was magic!

Mika squealed as her dress pocket split down the side, and a frog prince tumbled from her pocket, transforming fully into a human. Philip collapsed on the ground, croaking a little before sitting up and rubbing his head.

The truth about the magician from Skyfold Pass was also revealed and whatever magic he used to hide his identity fell away. It was the man from Ambrose’s memory. “Get him,” I whispered to my person, the man I chose. I had complete faith in him.

Ambrose strode forward, but the magician darted to Philip and grabbed my twin around the neck.

“I’m taking my hostage!” he squeaked, his voice breaking as he lunged. “This is the true prophecy holder and the real reason magic came back to Frostvale. If you hurt me, it will all go away—forever!”

Noll laughed and the sound was unnerving coming from such a large giant. It knocked the pixie twins off their feet and rattled all of the dishes, a tower of saffron cream wobbling and splattering on the ground. “Do you expect us to believe that?” he laughed.

“Oh we burned that prophecy. It’s gone. So we definitely don’t believe you,” Wyot said.

“You can’t burn it,” the magician shouted. “It was made with wyvern fire. It’s impossible to burn!”

My heart dropped. What? What did that mean?

Ambrose pulled something black and powdery from his pocket. “You mean this fireproof prophecy?” He let the pieces fall to the ground. “You yourself helped me release my magic and know better than anyone that I am quite capable of crafting a candle that can burn a ridiculous scrap of paper. Bessa made her own prophecy. She brought back magic.”

The magician started to look truly panicked. “Rune, help me!”

My not-so-loyal councilor looked around, panicked. “Me?”

All at once, I understood why Rune wanted me to choose a suitor at the coronation and why he’d been pushing me toward King Culm. The length of time I’d have to be away from Frostvale would be the perfect opportunity for a savvy councilor to swoop in and lead behind the throne.

King Culm was slowly shaking off the perpetual sleepy fog he’d seemed to be under the entire time I’d known him. The candle had also revealed the spell the magician had put him under to enact his side of the plan–keeping the king under his thumb in Skyfold Pass.

To be honest, I didn’t even have to lift a finger to subdue them both. My whole kingdom did that for me. Quicker than a fleeting glimpse of Qanuk in the snowy woods, everyone angled their newly rediscovered magic at the pair of them.

The magician and Rune fell to the ground, all sorts of boils and warts and hives dotting their faces from an ungodly number of rogue magical spells thrown by rusty magical creatures.

King Culm stepped forward, still a little woozy. He bowed low, and I worried I might have to catch him for a moment. “I am sorry for my kingdom’s part in this deception, Queen Bessa. Please forgive me, but I am not searching for your hand in marriage.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” I assured him as Culm used his toe to roll over the twitching magician and scowled at him.

“He came into my employ only a few months ago. I assume this was his plan all along. I fear I must return home and see what other evil he has wrought.”

Ambrose bowed to the king of Skyfold Pass. “This magician stole me as a boy from Frostvale and forced my magic to return with this ring.” He twisted the ring off of his thumb and held it up to the candle light. “He knew there was more here, and he’s been trying to coax it out ever since.”

Culm bowed in return, acknowledging Ambrose as my consort without saying a word. “I will take him back to Skyfold Pass and deal with him. Your councilor is all your own.”

I nodded. “Aye. He will have to pay for his treachery. There will be consequences.”

King Culm smiled. “Congratulations on breaking a century-old curse and restoring magic to Frostvale. I think I speak for all of the Ilex Isles in saying we look forward to seeing magic return to our lands. I suspect Frostvale will have a large role to play in magical diplomacy going forward. I see great things ahead of you, Queen Bessa, and I remain hopeful that our kingdoms will forge an even greater friendship.”

I started to nod my thanks, but something nudged me out of the way. Philip. Somehow, I’d forgotten about him.

“Yes, thank you, thank you,” he said. “It’s been an honor.” My twin straightened the ratty clothes he’d been wearing the last time I’d seen him, which was on the battlefield in disarray and shock at the sight of me. There was still a faint green tinge to his cheeks. “It hasn’t been easy to bring magic back, but I somehow managed it.”

I laughed out loud at that.

He held out his hand, though, in a gimme gesture, the audacity to demand my crown. “The only coronation happening here is mine.”

I wiped a tear from my eye. “You abandoned all claim to the throne when you abandoned your people. I am queen of Frostvale, and I have chosen my consort.”

Philip stomped his boot like a petulant child. “No. I am the firstborn and I am the son. Frostvale belongs to me!” He stared around at everyone.

One by one, the entire ballroom dropped to their knees in front of me, turning their backs completely to Philip, showing through their actions how little they thought of him. When Noll got to his knees, he smashed an entire table. Cream flung into the air and a bowl of custard landed directly on Philip’s head, who stood there too shocked to even sputter.

Story of his life.

Ambrose came to stand in between Philip and me. “If you do not renounce your claim, I believe there is an entire kingdom ready to do it for you.” He looked pointedly at where Rune was still moaning on the ground with a face full of painful looking boils.

Philip swallowed audibly in the crackling silence, and Ambrose stepped closer, seeming to grow taller with each step. It made my legs go weak at the knees and my stomach plummet pleasantly. “Do we have an understanding, Philip?”

Philip gave one last look around, the saffron cream and custard sliding down his neck. “You know, I think we do.”

“Good. Bend your knees and kneel,” Ambrose said, each word clipped and lethal.

Philip creaked to the ground, the bowl finally falling off his head. It was the only crown he’d wear.

Then all of a sudden, everything went silent. I only heard one thing, and it was impossible. The sound of hooves echoed on the stone floor. Slowly, I turned and came face to face with a unicorn.

Frostine be praised. It was a real, gods-given unicorn.

The iridescent creature put her muzzle on my arm and touched the tip of her horn to my crown. Her pearled white tail swished, smacking Philip in the face. She pawed the air once before disappearing back through the open door and into the forest. A cheer went up around the kneeling crowd and began like a groundswell of cacophony. I heard Wyot shout, “I told you it wasn’t a stick!”

Lorcan stared at Duskborne. “Did you know you were a vampire?” he asked.

Duskborne was feeling the tips of his fangs. He looked intent for a second and they popped back up into his gums and became human-looking again. Then he popped them out again. “I guess I did? But I sort of forgot about it. It’s been a century, and I was busy being human. Do you know how hard it is to be human?”

“Uh, yes. We’re still human,” said Wyot. “It’s very difficult, thank you very much.”

“Did you know you were a werewolf?” Duskborne asked Lorcan, ignoring the humans.

Lorcan pursed his lips and shook his head. “Completely out of the loop on that one. I mean, I remember now.”

“This should be interesting,” Duskborne said.

“Our disagreements will be even more lively.”

“Good point. I hadn’t thought of that.”

The whole kingdom was waking up, but it wasn’t just the kingdom or the people in the kingdom. Something tapped my shoulder; I looked up. It was a green tendril.

The castle sent one flowering vine of pink and red petals down from the ceiling. It curled around my waist and then spun outward and curled around Ambrose’s waist. Together, the vine picked us up and deposited us outside the ballroom before scooting us up the stairs. Toward my bedroom.

“What in the name of Frostine is happening?” I asked him, protesting the castle.

Ambrose took my hand, engulfing it within his. “Our love has restored magic. I don’t think I need to question it any further than that. Especially not if I get to take you upstairs right this second.”

“Someone needs to watch Philip. I won’t trust him any time soon,” I said, attempting to turn back to the ballroom.

The castle vines made an X in front of me and shooed me toward the stairs again. I craned my neck and saw Noll, still in giant form, holding Philip up between his thumb and forefinger, hoisting him to eye level while Philip wiggled like a worm on a hook.

Ambrose raised an eyebrow. “I think you’re covered there. Trust your people. And, apparently, your castle.”

“And let you just sweep me off my feet?”

“That’s the basic idea,” Ambrose said as he picked me up as easily as his crate of candles and marched directly up the stone steps to my room. The hearth blazed to life as we entered and a sweet scent swirled around us.

“This castle is taking it a little far, don’t you think?” I muttered when soft music began to play.

Ambrose gently put me on the ground before towering over me, his eyes already blazing more hotly than his fires. “I hardly noticed.”

“No?”