The ruins of Blackthorne Castle were no more. Stone by stone, they had rebuilt it, returning it to its former glory. And at its heart, in the grand hall, Queen Evelyne stood, dressed in black and silver, watching the flames flicker in the massive hearth.
Alec approached her, his usual stoic expression softened. "The people celebrate your reign. And yet, you seem troubled."
She turned to him. "I found the truth. The royal family of Vaelmor was behind my parents' deaths. They feared my family, my lineage. And now, they are gone. But the past does not change."
Alec held out his hand. "Then let us dance, my queen. And let the past rest."
Evelyne hesitated before placing her hand in his. The music from the halls below reached them, and together, they danced in the dim light, the weight of their past finally beginning to lift.
And as the moonlight spilled through the grand windows, their lips met—a promise of something new, something untold.
The Blackthorne bloodline had returned.
And its reign was only beginning.