everyone in the throne room.
But the Little Folk were already gone.
So she placed Mab’s crown atop the one of
gold and crystal and silver, the ancient crown
settling perfectly behind it.
And then finally, Aelin sat upon her throne.
It weighed on her, nestled against her
bones, that new burden. No longer an assassin.
No longer a rogue princess.
And when Aelin lifted her head to survey
the cheering crowd, when she smiled, Queen
of Terrasen and the Faerie Queen of the West,
she burned bright as a star.
The ritual was not over. Not yet.
As the bells rang out over the city,
declaring her coronation, the gathered city
beyond cheered.
Aelin went to greet them.
Down to the castle gates, her court, her