“Her heart is weakening,” she said. When she drew her hand back, her fingers were drenched in my blood. “And the curse still stands. Perhaps . . .” She had no chance to finish her statement. Phelan rose with me in his arms. I wanted to ask him, What are you doing? But my voice . . . I couldn’t find it. Yet he seemed to know my thoughts, because he said, “I don’t want to do this without you.” I released a tremulous breath—all right, as you wish—and he walked us to the throne. He claimed the sovereignty with me in his arms. We sat together, as one, and the curse came undone.
