The throne is cold beneath my hands.I stand before it, the silver mark blazing on my wrist, the pendant warm against my heart. Every wolf in the arena kneels. Every eye is on me.Maeve kneels too, her face wet, her crown at my feet.I do not pick it up."Rise," I say.The wolves stand. Murmurs ripple through the crowd. They expected vengeance. Blood. A queen who would make Maeve suffer.I am not that queen.Kael stands at my side, his hand on the small of my back. His collar is gone. His neck bears only the pale scar where iron once burned."You are shaking," he whispers."I am terrified.""You just defeated a blood witch and claimed your throne. This is the easy part."I almost laugh. Almost.Elara pushes through the crowd, her silver hair wild, her eyes wet. "Seraphina. You did it. You really did it.""We did it. Without your journals, without Roran, without the loyalists, I would be dead."Roran limps behind her, his arm in a sling. He grins. "I told you the tunnel would work.""Y
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