“They need to see us together,” he said.

“I am just a waitress, Lucian,” I said, though my apron was gone, replaced by a dry black sweater.

“No,” Lucian said, taking my hand. “You saved my life. You saved this family.”

He led me out onto the stone terrace.

The rain had stopped, leaving the air clean and cold.

The city lay below us, its lights twinkling in the gray dawn.

The guards looked up at us, their faces serious, their hats in their hands.

Bishop stood between us, his gray coat sleek, his chest out.

“From today,” Lucian announced, his voice carrying over the damp lawns, “Mara Vale speaks with my voice.”

“What she decides is my decision.”

“We protect this city, and we protect our own.”

The men nodded, a murmur of agreement rising from the crowd.

I looked out over the gardens, feeling the weight of the new responsibility.

It was a different kind of life, one filled with danger and heavy choices.

But as I felt Lucian’s fingers entwine with mine, and Bishop’s wet nose nudge my wrist, I knew I was no longer running.

I had found my place, not in the shadows, but at the head of the table.