Then he clenches his teeth, preparing to die.

He doesn’t.

Both guards blink, but nothing happens.

“Yes, about that,” says another voice, one that pricks my belly with the pang of betrayal. Out from behind the corner steps the vizier, a scroll unwound in his hands.

“They’re sworn to me,” Az insists, though his confidence seems to falter as he looks toward the vizier.

“They were sworn to you,” corrects the vizier, branching the scroll and clearing his throat again.

Kiran’s gaze latches on the wax seal, his emblem.

“I, King Kiran of Naenden,” reads the vizier, “hereby declare that females now be eligible to claim the throne of Naenden, if such is their birthright.”

My husband lets out an exasperated laugh.

My jaw drops.

Lydia waltzes in, unbound, her grin feral.

“What? No, that legislation is void, considering Kiran was never the rightful heir to the throne,” Az says.

“Yet,” says the vizier, wagging his finger, “Kiran still maintained the throne for a time. His declarations remain the law, unless his successor writes into law otherwise. You are lucky, young man, that our previous king was as horrible about turning in his paperwork on time as he was, otherwise your brief stint on the throne would have been nonexistent.”

The vizier turns to me and offers me the softest, saddest smile, his watery eyes twinkling. “The courier tasked with carrying the document from Othian to Meranthi fell ill and was unable to commence his journey. I do apologize that this couldn’t have been enacted earlier, and for my dreadful behavior as I awaited its arrival.”

If I had the strength to stand, I would wrap the vizier in a hug. He must see that on my face, because the tension in his shoulders relaxes.

Az opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

Probably because Lydia just flashed her teeth at him. “I accept my rightful place as queen,” she says, flitting her hand nonchalantly, as if she were agreeing to altering a menu of chutney from mango to passionfruit. “You,” she calls to the nearest guard. “Inform the healer that the Prince Regent needs attending to.” She turns back toward Az, murder burning in her expression. “My first act of queen is to—”

“Wait,” I say, instantly wincing. Lydia swivels her head over to me, as if she’s daring me to say what she thinks I’m about to say.

“Not yet,” I say, swallowing despite the dryness creeping up my throat.

Az’s shoulders relax slightly, though he still taps his feet against the floor in apprehension.

Kiran tenses next to me. “Asha, he can’t be left alive. He’s committed treason.”

“I know.” I chew on my lip. “But I just…” I close my eye, not sure how to express this. “I just need some time. Besides. You and Lydia took a fae vow not to harm him. Even if you command someone else to do it, I don’t want either of you ending up dead on technicalities.”

“Asha, thank you,” says Az, having the audacity to stumble toward me. The guard holding him twists his arm, so he has to speak through gritted teeth. “I know we’ve had our differences, but—”

“I don’t want to ever see your face again,” I say.

Az actually looks shocked. Pained even. I’m having a hard time bringing myself to care. Kiran furrows his brow at me, but I shake my head. I don’t know that I can have this conversation in front of Lydia. I don’t know how to explain that I want Az’s execution to be a decision made not in the heat of the moment, but with a level head.

Lydia seems disappointed, but she doesn’t press the issue. She just commands the guards to take Az to the dungeons and adds something about not to worry about giving him a chamber pot.

Kiran picks me up, wrapping me in his sturdy arms and tugging me into his chest.

“I can walk, I think,” I say.

Kiran’s amber eyes water as he looks down at me. “I think I’d like to hold you for a while, if you’ll let me.”

I decide I would like that very much.

On the way out, we meet the vizier by the door.

“Wait,” I tell Kiran, then crane my neck toward the vizier. “If the courier fell sick, how did the ordinance finally get to us?”

The vizier’s eyes sparkle. “Ah. I believe you have a servant girl to thank for that.”

Kiran and I exchange a confused glance.

“Yes, apparently the girl had been waiting on return correspondence from Prince Phineas for weeks. When she realized the courier with which she had entrusted her letters had never left Othian, she alerted Queen Elynore immediately.” The vizier chuckles. “Should you wish to send her a gift of gratitude, I believe her name is Imogen.”

I gasp, flinging my palm to my mouth as I search for Fin who…isn’t here.

“Ah, if you’re looking for Prince Phineas,” says the vizier, “I’ll have you know that when I came to retrieve him and the princess—ahem, Her Majesty—from your friend Bezzie’s, the prince immediately sprinted off to find your sister. Who is perfectly unharmed, by the way.”

Kiran grunts something about “needing to have a talk with that boy.”

I simply grin.

As it turns out, there were more consequences to using Kiran’s immortality to bring me back than just stripping him of his.

“I want to say something, but I’m afraid it’s probably the most selfish thing anyone has ever said,” Kiran says. He strokes my face as I sit in his lap on the balcony in our room. Our new room.

Kiran’s having the old one demolished.

I like that plan.

Not that I’ll be venturing over to that side of the palace for a good long while.

I chuckle. “You’ve already given up your immortality for me. I think you get a temporary pass on saying selfish things.”

Kiran’s brow knits as he stares at my face, tracing my cheek with his thumb. “I’m glad these are back.”

My heart stills as he traces the familiar pattern of scars that line the left side of my face.

As it turns out, Az’s healer had been a fraud, and my scars weren’t healed so much as glamoured, though the healer had explained it away by claiming he could bring back my eye, just not my vision.

The glamour had clung to my body in death but had dissipated once the Old Magic helped Kiran leech his immortality into me.

I haven’t spoken to the Old Magic, of course. He disappeared after helping Kiran heal me. And apparently left an extensive list of verbal instructions about the care I would need during my recovery.