Page 246 of Fallen Nocturne

Coral recoils as though he has revealed a terrible betrayal. Her pale scales rise along her neck, and she snarls at Sanguisyl and the two other wyverns. She backs toward us, still glaring at the supposed thieves coming for her food.

Svenn catches hold of her harness, and together we guide her back toward the palace. Sanguisyl watches Coral until the palace walls hide her from view.

Finnbheara watches her retreat before releasing a quiet breath. “You were right. She is not ready to meet him.”

Perhaps the Fae King remembers how the little wyvern wounded Sanguisyl in the battle. His shoulders lower in resignation. “But I am glad Coral is happy. That is what matters, even if Sanguisyl will be insufferable about this for the next century.”

He bows once more, then turns and rejoins his retinue. The two smaller wyverns launch first, followed by Sanguisyl carrying Finnbheara. Coral watches until they disappear beyond the palace walls, then chirps again and nudges Svenn’s satchel with growing impatience.

“Yes, yes,” Svenn mutters, pulling a piece of dried chicken from it. “Here you go, little monster.”

Coral snatches it eagerly and swallows it whole. She nuzzles against Svenn affectionately.

I fold my arms. “You lied. Coral just wanted food.”

“I did,” Svenn agrees without shame.

“You told Finnbheara she thought Sanguisyl was ugly. That was cruel,” I say, giving him a reproachful look. But I’m smiling, just a little.

“Coral, do you want to leave with the big, ugly wyvern?” Svenn asks plainly, and my heart squeezes as I wait for the pale wyvern’s answer.

Coral tilts her head. With chicken rival?

Svenn nods solemnly.

Coral’s eyes widen. She shakes her head so fiercely that her wings flap. The big ones will steal Coral’s food. Coral stays.

The wyvern paws at the ground, then lowers her head and knocks Svenn backward with an affectionate headbutt. My heart blooms with so much relief that it almost hurts.

Coral stays.

She is not staying because we forced her to. This is still where she wants to be. Svenn grabs her around the neck, and Coral immediately tries to wrestle him into the grass.

“I’m not letting anyone take her,” he says as he struggles beneath one enormous pale wing. “Not Finnbheara. Not Sanguisyl. Not anyone.”

He catches her snout between his hands and pushes her face away from his. “She’s ours and she’s staying.”

“What if she wants to find her mate someday?” I ask.

“Then she’ll go,” Svenn says simply. “When she’s ready and she chooses to. But not because some fae prince decided it’s time or because an ancient wyvern wants to claim her. Only when she wants it.”

I nod. Because he’s right. That’s how it should be.

Coral will decide when the time comes. When she’s older and strong enough. She’ll choose whether to stay with us or seek out her mate. Whether to remain with us or fly toward Avalon and Sanguisyl.

But that’s her choice to make.

Until then, she’s staying with us, safe and loved. Our Coral.

I made a deal with Aelfheim’s council.

I’m stepping down as queen.

The announcement caused chaos, with people protesting and Aldarelf council members arguing. Everyone is afraid and panicking, begging me to stay.

“You can’t leave,” Lord Ctibor says. “You saved us. The people need you. The kingdom needs you.”

“The kingdom needs someone,” I agree, keeping my voice calm despite the shouting around us. “But that someone doesn’t have to be me. Not anymore.”