Chapter 43: Resolve

The stairs of Emberhall stretched longer than they ever had. Every step pressed sharp into my ribs, bandages tugging under silk, breath hitching if I moved too fast. On one side, Cassie’s hand was steady at my elbow; on the other, Seara—

No. Not Seara.

I forced the thought back into itself, startled by the wrongness of it. That wasn’t the High Lady of Summer keeping pace with my limping steps, wasn’t the queen I’d been bowing under my whole life. This woman had her arm braced under mine, adjusting her stride to match my broken rhythm. This woman had sat at my bedside with rosemary steam curling in her hair. This was my mother.

And gods, I needed her.

Cassie caught my flinch as we reached the bottom step, her grip firming just enough to anchor me. She didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. My mother was already there, guiding me toward the long table where pillows had been stacked high into something almost throne-like. Regal, yes—but softened, the sharp edges blunted until it looked less like Court theater and more like someone had tried to make a nest for me.

I let them ease me down into it, ribs complaining, body heavy in this human skin. Cassie lingered, reluctant to let go, until she finally slid into the chair at my side. My mother fussed with one last pillow, the gesture so ordinary it ached.

The room swelled warm around us: lanterns low, platters steaming, silver flashing. Father poured wine with one hand while sneaking a grape with the other, Selene’s smile softened like a candle just for me. Lucien slouched into his chair, Alina beside him wide-eyed at the spread. Naomi lounged with soldier-casual arrogance, Kess twirled her knife like the feral menace she was, and Roran stood sentinel near the wall.

It should have felt like court. Instead, it felt like home.

A servant leaned in with a steaming bowl of soup, but my mother’s hand caught it first, sliding it closer to me. “Start with broth—”

“No.” My voice rasped but held. I nudged the bowl away, fingers clumsy as I reached for the knife at my place. “If you want me healed, I need protein. Not mush.”

Father’s brow arched in wry amusement. Cassie’s mouth tilted with a smirk, like she’d been waiting for me to bite.

I set my jaw and cut carefully into the emberstag steak, stubborn even as my motions shook. The knife felt heavier in this body; my grip lacked the easy certainty I used to take for granted. Every slice tugged fire through my ribs, but I kept going.

Alina’s gaze darted across the table, wide and reverent. “It’s all real?” she asked, voice hushed. “Not glamour?”

“Real,” I said, mustering half a smile. “Wait until the fruit fights back.”

Her gasp was pure delight. Selene’s quiet laugh followed, crystal and warm.

Naomi jabbed her fork toward Lucien. “Careful, princess. Your brother’ll ruin it for her with his mortal snacks. Cheese sticks and soda, wasn’t it?”

Lucien groaned, shoving at her shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Naomi shot back, eyes wicked.

I laughed under my breath and almost thought Elias when Father clucked his tongue at them. The name hovered—habit, reflex. I caught it. No. Not Elias. My father.

The word rang different in my head this time, solid as a bell-strike.

And for the first time in years, it didn’t feel like pretending.

The knife still weighed heavy in my hand, my ribs a live wire every time I shifted. I switched clumsily, setting the blade down and fumbling the fork into place. Even that small trade of metal from one hand to the other cost me—bandages pulling, breath snagging sharp.

I speared a slice I’d carved and lifted it slow, stubborn. The motion sent fire lancing through my side, but pride shoved the bite past my lips anyway.

Flat.

The emberstag that should have burst rich and smoke-sweet, magic sparking faint against my tongue, landed dull. Like meat stripped of fire.

I chewed, swallowed, and forced my face to stay smooth. If I winced, they’d fuss. If I grimaced, they’d pity.

But Mother’s fork stilled mid-air. Selene’s gaze lingered too long. Even Roran’s head tipped a fraction, as if cataloguing weakness like a battlefield report. They knew.

Cassie didn’t pretend. “Firefly.” Her voice was soft but too sharp to ignore. “It doesn’t taste right.”

My throat tightened. “It’s fine,” I muttered, spearing another piece.

“You used to lick the juice off your fingers when you thought no one was watching,” Selene said gently, a memory that made my ears burn. “You don’t even look tempted.”

Father leaned forward, his hand easy on the table’s edge. “You don’t have to force it, lightning bug.”

“I’m not forcing,” I said quickly, too quickly. The knife juddered in my grip as I cut again, ribs shrieking at the motion. “I need the protein. Not mush. If I want to heal, I eat.”

The words came out harsher than I meant, but they held me upright. Mother’s command from earlier still rang through me—no shame in letting them help, no shame in needing—but this? This was mine. My choice.

I set my jaw and brought the next bite up, ignoring the way Cassie’s hand ghosted near mine, ready to steady. Even dull, even painful, I would finish. Because I wanted to get better.

Across the table, Alina’s gasp broke the tension. She leaned forward, curls bouncing, eyes huge. “It really… glows,” she whispered. The jeweled fruits shimmered in their bowls like cut gems. The emberstag steak on her plate smoked faintly, runes of heat dancing across the char as if the fire still lived inside it. “This isn’t glamour?”

Selene smiled faint, crystal laugh catching in her throat. “Not glamour. Summer magic holds in what it grows.”

Alina’s hand hovered above the platter of candied roots, as if touching them might burn. “It’s… beautiful.” She finally bit into one, her expression going soft with wonder. “Gods. It tastes like sunlight.”

Her awe rang across the table, bright and clean. My fork shook in my hand. Sunlight—where she tasted magic thrumming, I tasted only flatness. Even emberstag—my favorite, the thing that used to make me sneak bites off my mother’s plate when I was small—lay like ash in my mouth.

Mother’s gaze slid to me again. Concern burned molten in her eyes, quiet and unyielding.

I straightened in my chair, swallowed hard, and forced another bite down.

“I’m fine,” I said again, because I had to. Because even if I wasn’t, I would be.

Father’s spoon paused above his bowl. He didn’t speak, but the crease at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. Selene’s smile faltered, softened, as though she too could feel the wrongness on my tongue. Even Roran’s eyes flicked, quick and assessing, the way a soldier marks damage in a comrade.

Cassie leaned closer, her voice pitched for me alone. “You don’t have to prove anything.”

“Yes, I do.” My knife wavered as I cut again, ribs tightening fire through my side. “If I stop, I’ll break. And I won’t.”

The words rang harsher than I meant, but they steadied me. I stabbed another piece, jaw clenched.

Naomi, merciful as ever, broke the silence. “Careful, Alina,” she drawled. “Don’t let her fool you. Fae fruit isn’t all that gentle. Some will spit seeds at you.”

Alina’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “Truly?”

“Truly,” Selene answered, laughter glinting.

Kess leaned in, grinning. “I once saw her nearly lose a duel with a blood-orange.”

Heat rose to my cheeks. “It was slippery,” I muttered.

Cassie smirked at her plate. “Excuses, Firefly.”

The table laughed, the sharp edge of concern dulled under humor. But Mother’s eyes never left me. I felt her watching every clumsy cut, every breath I stifled when the ache in my ribs spiked. She didn’t stop me. She only let me try, let me choose to bear it.

And maybe that was what kept me going. The taste still fell flat, but I forced myself through another bite, and another. Not for show. For healing.

For resolve.

Alina’s voice piped up again, soft but curious. “So… what was she like? At Ravenrest, I mean.” Her eyes darted between me and Lucien, hesitant. “Before all this.”

Lucien shrugged, lips twitching. “Loud. Always loud.”

“Not always,” Cassie cut in, tone casual, affectionate. She tilted her head, smirk tugging at her mouth. “You used to hide in the back row of Chem like you wanted to disappear. Just Mira. A nobody.” Her fork tapped lightly against her plate. “You liked it that way.”

The words landed sharper than she meant them. No blame, no edge—just memory. But they struck anyway.

I froze, breath catching. Just Mira.

The truth unraveled inside me like thread snapping: I’d been hiding. My magic had pulled its glow back into the dark because I’d been mourning that anonymity, trying to protect the girl who wanted to vanish into the back row. Clinging to her, when she was already gone.

But I wasn’t hiding anymore.

I wouldn’t.

Heat flared under my skin. The knife trembled in my grip, then steadied as fire roared back into my bones. My hair lit, ember-red spilling molten across my shoulders. My eyes burned open—starlit, whole. Every cut on my arms shimmered and sealed; bruises dissolved into gold-flecked warmth. Deep in my chest, the broken puzzle of ribs knit and reset. Not perfect—tender, sore, but no longer shattered.

The world surged.

Sound crashed first—voices sharpened, the lanterns above humming, Father’s heartbeat thudding steady across the table, Lucien’s quick, uneven breaths. Scents tangled thick—emberstag spice, jeweled fruit sugar, the molten lily-bite of Mother’s gaze. Too much. Too loud. My chair scraped, breath flaring wild.

And then Cassie’s hand. Thumb pressing slow infinity into my palm, her citrus-vanilla perfume cutting through the riot. Her heartbeat—steady, fierce—drummed exactly where I needed it.

I breathed with her, tethered.

The world settled into place.

My fork still waited in my hand. I cut one more bite of emberstag and brought it to my mouth. This time the flavor ignited—smoke-sweet, magic-bright, sparking across my tongue like it was meant to. A shaky smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it.

“Better,” Cassie murmured, satisfied.

“Better,” I admitted, voice quiet but certain.

Father’s chair creaked. When I glanced up, his face had gone soft at the edges, that stubborn crease easing like a knot releasing. He didn’t say much—he never needed to—but the words he chose landed true as an arrow.

“There you are, lightning bug.”

Mother’s hand—my mother’s—found the back of my head, fingers threading into ember-lit hair like she was reacquainting herself with something sacred. The molten in her eyes didn’t flare; it warmed. “My stargazer,” she murmured, pride quiet and devastating. Not relief that I’d stopped breaking. Recognition. As if she’d been waiting at a door only I could open.

Selene’s smile cut bright and knowing. “Steals the light, as ever,” she said, voice a soft victory.

Across from me, Lucien let out a breath he’d been hoarding since the corridor—shoulders dropping, boy and brother both. Alina’s hand crept to his sleeve, wonder and a little awe widening her eyes. Naomi tipped her chin like she’d expected this all along; Kess’s grin sharpened, pleased and feral. Even Roran’s stance loosened by a degree most people would miss—alert, but not braced for collapse.

The wards hummed low approval through the bones of Emberhall, and for once the sound didn’t crowd me. It held.

I took another bite—smoke-sweet emberstag blazing back across my tongue, char singing, magic sparking. Cassie’s thumb traced one last, slow infinity into my palm and stilled, as if to say: fixed that.

“Better,” I said again, and this time the word tasted like a promise.

Mother’s and Father’s gazes met over the table—an old language traded without a sound. Not the High Lady and the councilman weighing optics. Just parents, their pride bare as flame.

There she is. Our girl.

Lucien broke the hush first, leaning back in his chair with a groan. “Gods, Firefly, you can’t even sit through dinner without turning it into a spectacle.”

“Jealous?” I shot back, arching a brow. “Sorry my glow-up isn’t optional.”

Selene smirked over the rim of her glass. “It never has been. My little sister’s been stealing spotlights since she could toddle.”

“Correction,” I said, stabbing another bite of emberstag. “I walked early. Spotlight theft was just a side hustle.”

Naomi leaned against Kess, lips twitching. “Not surprised. You’ve always been dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” Kess snorted. “She’s rebellion material, is what she is. Just give her a cause and some fire—oh wait.” She winked at me, golden eyes sly.

Laughter circled the table. It felt good. Normal.

At least until Cassie’s knife angled over my plate. I slapped her hand without looking, fork clattering against the edge. “Touch my steak again and I’ll set the ends of your hair on fire.”

Her grin was wolfish. “Worth it.”

Alina watched us like she’d stumbled into a fable. Her eyes trailed the jeweled fruit, the glowing roots, the way the wines shimmered faintly in their glasses. “It’s… unreal. You’re telling me you eat like this every day?”

“Not every day,” I said, softer now. “But when the Summer Court throws a spread, it’s not just food. It’s magic carved into taste. See that pear? Bite too hard and it might burst light down your throat. Those cherries? They’ll fizz like champagne. The bread always warms itself when you tear it.”

She blinked, half laughing, half in awe. “You’re kidding.”

“Try it,” I said, pushing a basket toward her. “It’s real. All of it.”

Alina tore the bread in half, steam curling bright into her face, and her gasp was pure delight. “It tastes… like cinnamon and summer nights.”

Elias—no, my father—chuckled low, leaning an elbow on the arm of his chair. “Careful. Next she’ll be raiding the kitchens like a Quinveil.”

The reflex stung, like hitting the edge of a bruise. Elias. The name I’d used all my life, sharp and safe, because calling him anything else felt too raw. But he wasn’t Elias here. He was my father. He always had been.

And then Seara—my mother—arched a brow at him, molten gaze cutting warm through the candlelight. Gods. Even in my own head it felt clumsy, wrong-footed. Seara, High Lady, the blade I’d cowered from for years. But she wasn’t that now, not with me. She was my mom. She’d been showing me that in every careful hand, every cloth, every braid.

It would take time for the wiring in my skull to catch up. But they deserved it—the names, the place in my head, the truth I’d been too blind and tangled in my own drama to see.

My parents.

Both of them.

And when Mother smiled, soft and ordinary, I smiled back without hesitation.

I set the knife down, the clink sharp against the wood. The hum of conversation stilled, threads of laughter trailing into expectant silence. My ribs ached from the effort, but I kept my back straight, my voice steady.

“I’m going back to school.”

Cassie’s hand stilled where it rested against my wrist. Her eyes cut to mine, blue and unflinching, and the faintest curve tugged at her mouth—approval, fierce and certain.

The table shifted, subtle as wind through leaves. Lucien blinked hard, caught between shock and something else that looked almost like pride. Alina’s breath hitched, but she nodded, curls bouncing as if to anchor me.

I breathed once, slow. “I want my ordinary life back. Whatever ‘ordinary’ means now. I’ll go in human skin most days—less risk of glamour cracking in public. But if I need to fight, if anyone tries again…” The steel in my tone was my mother’s, but the fire was mine. “I’ll use what I am. I won’t be hidden. I won’t be cloistered. I’ll face them.”

Cassie leaned in, voice soft but carrying. “And you won’t be alone.” Her fingers laced with mine, grip grounding, a chain of resolve I hadn’t realized I was waiting for.

Naomi tipped her glass in a dry salute. Kess smirked, teeth catching the candlelight. Even Roran, sentinel-still at the wall, gave the faintest nod.

Across the table, my parents’ eyes met—hers molten, his steady cedar-dark. Pride flared, fierce and quiet. But beneath it, I saw the fear they didn’t speak, the weight they carried for me and couldn’t put down.

For once, I didn’t shrink from it.

I held their gaze and let them see the fire settling back into place.

Their girl. Their daughter. Not porcelain. Not broken. Ready.

Mother’s voice cut across the table, clean and sharp as drawn steel. “You will not return to Ravenrest unguarded.”

The warmth of dinner dimmed. Her molten gaze swept the table, and for a breath she wasn’t just my mother—she was the High Lady again. “Summer Court guard will be visible. Bodyguards in plain sight. More will be glamoured and integrated as students. Every corridor, every wing, covered.”

I set my knife down carefully, ribs twinging as I straightened. “I’ll accept what people expect—a princess with a shadow. But not a parade at my back.” I fixed my eyes on hers, refusing to bow. “Roran will shadow me. No one else. And if you want presence, keep them at the doors, the exits. Let me live my life.”

Roran dipped his head, silent acknowledgment.

Father leaned forward, cedar-steady. “Optics demand mortal cover as well. The City Council will provide a guard perimeter. Envoys to drive you. Routes randomized daily—no routine for enemies to exploit.”

That, at least, I could stomach. “Fine. But Ravenrest has to feel like Ravenrest, not a fortress.”

Mother’s jaw flexed. “Then glyph-wards. Summer specialists will lace your school—subtle, invisible to mortals. They will suppress hostile fae magic, allow Summer flow.”

“Yes.” I met her eyes, firm. “Summer glyphs only. No other Court’s hand in my school.”

A small incline of her chin: concession. “So be it.” Her gaze slid to Cassie then, sharp as a blade. “And your consort—”

The word soured in my mouth, and my fire surged before thought caught it. Consort. As if she were some trinket at my side.

MINE.

The claim seared through me, feral and certain. Not just protective but binding, burning. Cassie was mine to shield, mine to love, mine to claim.

“She is not my consort,” I snapped, too sharp, too wild to be tamed. Sparks hissed off the chandelier. “Her name is Cassandra Fairborn. Cass. My wife. If you protect me, you protect her the same. She will have her own shadow. She is equal to me.”

Cassie’s hand slid into mine under the table, grip steel, eyes glacial-bright. Pride shone in her, answering my feral claim with one of her own.

The table stilled. Selene’s smile curved, approving. Naomi’s mouth twitched like she’d been waiting for this streak. Even Roran’s stance eased, the faintest respect in it.

Mother did not look away. “If she is your wife,” she said, molten voice steady, “then you will say your vows. Now. Here. Before all of us.”

Cassie’s breath hitched, but she didn’t flinch.

Mother pressed on. “I will file the paperwork in the morning. Cassandra will be a Firebrand by the time you return to school. If you want her recognized, she must bear the name of my House. Equal protection requires equal binding. No Court will honor her otherwise.”

The words struck like law, but not cruel. Strategic. Unyielding.

My heart thundered. MINE pulsed hotter, sharper, but this time it settled, finding shape. Wife, Firebrand, tethered not just by choice but by vow.

I glanced at Cassie. She smirked faint, chin high, daring. “Guess that makes it official, Firefly.”

Heat burned behind my eyes, but I turned back to Mother and Father, voice steady. “Then we’ll speak our vows.”

Father’s expression softened, pride folding into his eyes. “So it is sealed.”

“Not yet,” Mother countered. She leaned in, gaze cutting both me and Cassie. “Before you step back into Ravenrest, before any ward is laid or guard assigned, there must be a public statement. A press conference. The world must know who you are, and who stands beside you.”

The air thickened, weight settling across my shoulders like a crown.

Cassie’s thumb traced slow infinity into my palm, grounding me. “Then we’ll stand,” she murmured, fierce as a vow.

I looked between them—my parents, my anchor—and inclined my head. “On those terms,” I said, fire steady in my chest, “I agree.”

The wards hummed in answer, sealing it.

The air in Emberhall shifted, wards humming like the house itself had leaned in. No priest, no court dais, no ceremonial scripts. Just us. Just truth.

I rose as far as my ribs would let me, stubborn through the stab of pain. Cassie rose with me, her hand sliding into mine, her grip sure enough to make my knees weak. Every pair of eyes at the table locked on us, but the only heartbeat I heard was hers.

I drew a breath that tasted of smoke and citrus and let the words fall.

“Cassandra Jade Fairborn.” Her name cut clean and reverent from my lips. “You’ve been my rival. My torment. My undoing. And gods damn it, my love. You infuriate me. You challenge me. You never let me get away with anything—and I don’t want you to. I am fae in my blood, in my fire, in my Court. But my heart—my messy, mortal heart—has always been yours. Wife. Anchor. Storm. Balm. Mine.”

Her pulse jolted against my palm, fast as lightning. Her chin tilted up, pride sharp as a blade, mortal daring blazing in her eyes.

“Miracle Emberheart Quinveil Firebrand,” she said, every syllable struck like flint. “You’ve been my enemy. My headache. My sharpest lesson. And somehow, my home. You drive me insane. You push every button I have and laugh while you do it. But you also make me braver than I ever thought I could be. You set me on fire and dare me to burn brighter. So here I am, vowing myself to your chaos, your crown, your kitchen disasters, your fire. Wife. Mine.”

The word cracked through me like a starburst. Mine. Not as a chain, not as a claim against my will. Mine, as if the universe had finally agreed.

Heat blurred my vision. My ribs ached, but my chest had never felt fuller.

The silence fractured in ripples—

Selene’s laugh, soft and crystalline, a sister’s pride.

Naomi’s low whistle, smug, like she’d always known.

Kess’s feral grin, teeth flashing, a predator pleased.

Alina’s hands clapped to her mouth, eyes bright with tears.

Lucien muttered, “About damn time,” but his voice cracked right in the middle.

Roran inclined his head, solemn as a vow-keeper.

And my parents—my mother and father—watched like sun and moon, pride so raw it seared.

Mother lifted her hand, her voice molten steel. “So witnessed. So bound. Cassandra Firebrand, you are now of this House. The paperwork will be filed by dawn. By law, by ward, by flame.”

The wards flared, molten gold, light washing over the room like a blessing.

I didn’t wait for formality. I kissed Cassie like a vow itself, ember and citrus colliding, sealing what no Court could undo.

The room erupted. Cheers, laughter, the scrape of chairs, Selene’s voice pitched in gleeful ribbing—“About time you made it official, little sister.” Naomi and Kess shouted over each other about who’d had the better bet on when it would happen. Alina looked like she might cry outright, clinging to Lucien’s arm. Even Father’s laugh cracked through, warm and astonished.

Cassie pulled back just enough to smirk, breath hot against my lips. “Guess you’re stuck with me now, Firefly.”

“Tragic,” I whispered back, and kissed her again, softer this time, tasting emberstag smoke and her smile.

When I finally sat, ribs protesting, she curled close, her shoulder pressing into mine. My palm rested on her thigh, thumb drawing lazy circles, my fire purring mine, mine, mine with every beat of her heart.

Across the table, Mother and Father’s gazes met over the feast—no High Lady, no councilman. Just parents, their pride plain as flame.

There she is, they said without words.

Our girl. Their daughter. Their queen.

And for the first time, I let myself believe it.