Riven's POV
I stare at the woman claiming to be my mother, and every thought in my head scatters like birds.
"You're alive," I whisper. "You've been alive this whole time."
"Yes." Her voice cracks slightly. "And I'm so sorry, Riven. For everything."
"Sorry?" The word explodes out of me. "You let me think you were dead! You let me grow up as a servant, getting beaten and starved, while you—what? Hid? Learned spells?"
Pain flashes across her face. "I had no choice. If Aldric knew I survived, he would have torn apart the entire kingdom looking for me. And he would have found you."
"He found me anyway!"
"Not until you were strong enough to survive." She glances at the crown on my head. "Not until someone made sure you'd be protected."
My stomach drops. "The message. Three months ago. You sent it to Kieran."
"I did." She looks at Kieran, and something passes between them—recognition, understanding. "I've been watching you both for years. Waiting for the right moment."
"You used me," Kieran says, his voice dangerously quiet. "You manipulated me into rescuing her."
"I gave you information that served both our purposes," Elara corrects. "You needed a weapon against Aldric. I needed my daughter alive. We both got what we wanted."
"Except I didn't want any of this!" I shout. Magic flares around me, shadows writhing. "I didn't want to be a weapon or a queen or whatever you've decided I am! I just wanted to survive!"
"And you will survive." My mother steps closer. "Because you're stronger than I ever was. Stronger than Aldric expects."
The King laughs—harsh and bitter. "Touching reunion. But it changes nothing, Elara. You're one immortal. I have twenty battle mages. Your daughter is untrained. You're outnumbered."
"Am I?" Elara smiles. "You really think I came alone?"
She raises her hand, and the air shimmers.
Figures materialize throughout the hall—dozens of them, appearing from nothing. Mages in old-fashioned robes, warriors with ancient weapons, people who look like they stepped out of history books.
"The Valdris line," Elara announces, "was never fully destroyed. We scattered. We hid. We waited." Her eyes blaze. "And now we've returned."
Aldric's face goes white. "That's impossible. I killed all of you—"
"You killed the ones who stayed and fought. The loyal ones. The honorable ones." Bitterness seeps into her voice. "The rest of us? We ran like cowards. We survived by abandoning our kingdom. And we've hated ourselves for it ever since."
One of the figures steps forward—an old man with kind eyes. "We've been waiting for a Valdris to reclaim the crown. To give us permission to stop hiding."
He kneels before me. Then another person kneels. And another.
Within seconds, two dozen people are kneeling in Kieran's great hall, all of them looking at me with desperate hope.
"We swear loyalty to Queen Riven," the old man says. "The true ruler of Ashenvale. The one who will end the tyrant's reign."
I can't breathe. This is too much. Too fast.
"I don't know how to be a queen," I say desperately. "I don't know how to lead people or fight wars or—"
"You know how to survive," my mother interrupts. "That's what matters. Everything else, we'll teach you."
Aldric snarls. "Enough of this!" His magic explodes outward, and his battle mages attack.
But the Valdris fighters are ready. Magic clashes against magic—ancient spells meeting modern ones. The great hall becomes a battlefield.
Kieran pulls me behind a pillar as fire streaks overhead.
"Your mother," he says tightly. "Did you know?"
"Of course not! I thought she was dead!"
"She's been alive for twenty-three years. Watching you suffer. Waiting." His jaw clenches. "I don't know whether to thank her or kill her."
"Get in line," I mutter.
An explosion rocks the pillar we're hiding behind. Stone cracks, and we have to move.
My mother fights like a whirlwind—her magic is beautiful and terrible, shadows and light weaving together in deadly patterns. She's holding off three battle mages at once.
But even she can't fight forever.
And Aldric isn't even trying. He's just standing there, watching, like this is all amusing.
"He's not worried," I realize. "Why isn't he worried?"
Kieran follows my gaze and goes rigid. "Because he's waiting for something."
"For what?"
"Reinforcements. Or—" His eyes widen. "Riven, the crown. Take it off. Now."
"What? Why?"
"Because it's a beacon! Anyone with magical sight can track it across kingdoms!" He reaches for the crown. "He let you put it on. He wanted you to. It's how he found the other Valdris survivors—"
Too late.
The crown flares hot against my head, and I scream. Magic pours through it—not mine, not my mother's. Something else. Something that feels like hooks in my brain, pulling, searching.
Through the crown, I see what Aldric sees: Every Valdris survivor in the hall, their magical signatures lit up like torches. Every hiding place they fled to over the years. Every safe house, every secret refuge.
He's using me to find them all.
"No!" I claw at the crown, but it won't come off. It's fused to me, held there by Aldric's magic.
My mother spins toward me, horror on her face. "Riven, fight it! Don't let him—"
But I can't fight. The magic is too strong, too invasive. Through my eyes, Aldric is mapping every Valdris survivor in existence.
And then, through the crown's connection, I feel him do something worse.
He sends a signal.
Across the kingdom, in every place the Valdris have been hiding, his agents activate. Assassins, soldiers, mages—all moving at once toward the locations Aldric just ripped from my mind.
"I have them all now," the King says pleasantly. "Thank you, Riven. In one day, I'll finish what I started three hundred years ago. The Valdris line will finally, truly end."
My mother's face crumples. Around the hall, the Valdris fighters realize what just happened. What I just did.
I betrayed them all.
"I'm sorry," I sob. "I didn't mean to—I didn't know—"
"Of course you didn't." Aldric waves his hand, and the crown's magic releases me. I collapse, and Kieran catches me. "You're untrained. Foolish. Exactly as I needed you to be."
He turns to leave, his battle mages forming a protective circle around him.
"This was fun, Elara. Let's do it again in another twenty years—oh wait, you won't have anywhere left to hide." He pauses at the shattered wall. "I'll leave you alive. All of you. So you can spend your last day knowing that everyone you've been protecting is going to die. Because of her."
He points at me.
"The last Valdris queen. The one who destroyed her own people."
Then he's gone, walking through the rubble like he hasn't a care in the world.
The hall falls silent except for my ragged breathing.
No one looks at me. They can't. I just doomed dozens—maybe hundreds—of people.
"We have one day," my mother finally says, her voice hollow. "One day to warn everyone, to evacuate, to—"
"It's not enough time," the old man says. "Some of our people are across the ocean. We can't reach them all."
"Then we reach who we can." Kieran's voice cuts through the despair. "We send word immediately. Fast riders, magical communication, everything."
"It won't be enough," Thorne says quietly. "He's had centuries to build his network. We have hours."
I sink to the floor, the crown heavy on my head. It won't come off now—Aldric made sure of that. A permanent reminder of what I've done.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry."
My mother kneels beside me. For a moment, I think she'll yell or blame me.
Instead, she pulls me into a hug.
"This isn't your fault," she says fiercely. "Aldric planned this. He used you. Just like he's used everyone."
"But I—"
"You survived. That's what matters." She pulls back, gripping my shoulders. "And now we make him pay for it."
"How? He's immortal. He has armies. He just outmaneuvered us completely."
"Because we've been playing his game." A dangerous light enters her eyes. "It's time we changed the rules."
She stands, addressing everyone in the hall.
"Aldric thinks he's won. He thinks we'll scatter, try to save our people, waste our strength on defense." Her voice rings out. "Instead, we attack. Tonight. All of us. We go straight to the capital and we end him."
"That's suicide," Seraphine says. "The capital is defended by—"
"Everything," my mother interrupts. "Yes. Which is why he won't expect us. He thinks we're broken. Desperate. He thinks Riven will be too traumatized to fight."
She looks at me.
"Are you?"
I think about all the Valdris people about to die because I wore this crown. Think about Lady Celeste and her cruelty. Think about eighteen years of being invisible.
Something inside me hardens into steel.
"No," I say. "I'm angry."
My mother smiles. It's terrifying. "Good. Because you're about to learn the spell that kills immortals. And we're going to use it tonight."
She extends her hand again.
"Ready to become the weapon that ends a king?"
This time, I take it.