Between Tides & Thunder

“Yes. About that,” Sorka says slowly. “I’ve discussed with our advisers at length. Tormik’s treachery, your mother’s murder. The storms. Your attack at the camp. And well—perhaps it’s easier to show you.”

He gestures us forward.

Through the familiar icy halls, homesickness swirls in my chest like a restless tide. The Great Hall rises before us, vast and glittering beneath frozen chandeliers. At its center, a circular dais gleams like glass. Upon it, rest two intricately carved ice thrones.

They’re larger than the ones from the betrothal ceremony.

Regal. Unyielding. Permanent.

I cut Sorka a sharp glance. In answer, he gestures for us to ascend.

Zev and I climb the dais, taking the offered seats. My betrothal ring gleams in the bright light.

“There’s much still to mend,” Sorka says. “Wrongs to be righted. But one thing has been decided.” He glances around the hall. “Tundrayn welcomes you home, Queen Mayah.”