Cool metal whispered past my hair. There was an undefinable sensation of lightness. Freedom.

And that was it: I wasn’t a queen anymore.

The official stepped back from my chair and bowed, my crown in his hands. He placed my crown in a velvet-lined box, picked up the King’s crown... and placed it on my father’s head. The thousands of people who filled the hall stood as one and cheered. The noise was deafening... and wonderful.

My father had woken from his coma four days after I’d retaken power, but he’d needed another three weeks to get back up to strength. Now—finally—my reign was over.

There was a knot of tension that had been right at the center of my chest, ever since my father was shot. It suddenly melted away and I wanted to groan at how good it felt. Instead, I leaned across to the chair next to mine, grabbed Garrett’s hand and squeezed it, and he squeezed back. God, it was good to be able to do that with everyone watching.

A lot had changed, in the last month.

In the aftermath of the TV broadcast, my policy had been complete honesty. I’d told the media everything: how I’d met Garrett, how he’d helped to save our country, how I’d initially been forced to keep our relationship secret but how I now hoped my people would welcome him. And once they’d heard our story, they did. There was a little muttering about tradition and him not being a prince from the older generation, but they hadn’t wanted to see their children sent off to war, so even they accepted him. And everyone else, especially the women, went nuts for him. I’d had to relate the part about him swearing his allegiance four times in interviews.

Now, as he sat next to me on the stage, he was wearing a gray tailored suit with a crisp white shirt and a blue tie that set off his eyes. He looked even better than he had in the royal guard’s uniform. The tailoring of the suit showed off those huge, broad shoulders and his tight waist, while the white shirt was soft enough that it hinted at the strong curves of his pecs. The royal hairdresser had asked whether he could make Garrett look more “respectable” and I’d immediately forbidden it. Cutting his hair short or insisting he was clean-shaved would just be wrong. He was exactly as he was supposed to be.

And yet we’d both changed, in ways people couldn’t see. There were no more nightmares for me, not when I had Garrett to cuddle up to in the night. And while he had a long way to go, he’d made the first steps to putting things behind him: the flashbacks were under control and he was talking to the therapist who’d helped me: gruffly and reluctantly, but they were talking.

Garrett was talking to his dad, too. He’d flown home to Texas as soon as the situation in Lakovia was stable. His dad had begun to recover and apparently the pair had had a serious heart-to-heart. From what Garrett said, his dad understood his problems far better than he’d expected. Turns out, he hadn’t come through the marine corps emotionally unscathed either. Both of them were a lot happier for talking.

Something that helped both Garrett and me was riding. Once Garrett’s wounds had healed, I’d re-opened the royal stables and we’d started going for long rides in Lakovia’s cool, misty forests. Garrett was right: there was something incredibly calming about being around horses. Calming... and romantic. Both times, when we’d been out, he’d given me this sudden, heated look. I mean, I wasn’t doing anything special, just riding alongside him in a long, white dress with a tight bodice, my hair streaming out in the wind. But suddenly he was sweeping me off my saddle and onto his horse and galloping deeper into the trees, where the guards couldn’t see us. And then, up against a tree, my skirts hoisted up around my waist….

I flushed and grinned.

We’d have more time for that, now. I was looking forward to just being a princess again. For now, at least. Someday, hopefully far in the future, when my father grew too old, I’d have to reign again. The night before, in bed, Garrett had asked me, “Is it less scary, now that you’ve done it once?”

“Now, I know how much I still have to learn,” I’d told him seriously. I’d survived a few weeks of being queen, but when it came time to do the job permanently, I wanted to do it well. I’d learn everything I could from my father, but I wanted to visit other countries, too, to see how they did things. And our country had been dangerously isolated for too long. I wanted to fix that. I wanted to build alliances, especially with the US.

Emerik and Jakov were still guarding me. For now, Emerik was still on active duty: after everything he’d done, no one was suggesting he was ready to retire. But I’d had a talk with him and reassured him that when that day did come, there was a position available training and supervising the next generation of my guards. It was Garrett’s idea, and Emerik loved it.

Jakov, meanwhile, was helping to ease the tensions between our people and the Garmanian communities who lived in our country. He’d helped to set up a football league for kids, with Lakovian and Garmanian kids playing on the same team, and it was already getting very popular. If we could get them making friends when they were young, maybe we could inoculate them against hatred in the future.

We were making progress at other levels, too. The Prime Minister of Garmania was our guest of honor at this ceremony, the first time he’d made a state visit to our country since the war. We’d come so close to disaster, it had encouraged both countries to reach out. I caught his eye as the cheering finally died down and we exchanged respectful nods. Peace wouldn’t be easy or quick but then nothing worthwhile is. It helped that Aleksander, General Novak and Silvas Lukin were all in prison and would be for the rest of their lives. People in both Garmania and Lakovia understood that this had been an attack on both our countries by people from both sides who couldn’t let go of the past. This time, when my father talked about moving forward, they’d listen.

When the speeches were over, we made our way to the waiting limos for the trip back to the palace. A string quartet was playing in the lobby: my father had flown them over from New York and they were fantastic. They finished the Lakovian national anthem just as we walked past them. In the brief pause, I heard the violinist whisper, “Why do they speak English, here?”

“It’s a funny story,” said the cellist excitedly, and pushed her glasses up her nose. “Three hundred years ago—” Then she had to start playing as they launched into the Garmanian national anthem.

We walked on. Outside, Garrett held the door for my father and then my mother as they climbed into the first limo. She gave him a little smile—she smiled a lot more, now. “Thank you, Garrett.”

Ever since that day at the Carlonian border, she’d really changed her mind about him. She’d even defended him: a few of the stuffier newspapers had dared to suggest that Garrett wasn’t royal suitor material, and they’d suffered the full force of her wrath. When I’d asked her about it, she’d said, “You’re like your father. I’m not sure I ever realized how much, until all this.”

I’d frowned. “So?”

“So: when your father met me, they said I wasn’t suitable, either.”

I’d blinked at that. She was always so reserved: it was hard to imagine her as a disreputable wildchild.

“I changed, to fit expectations,” she’d said, reading my expression. “Garrett won’t. And that’s a good thing.”

And then she’d hugged me. A full-on, proper, motherly hug, even though it creased her suit.

We climbed into our limo, along with Caroline and Sebastian. The pair were inseparable and were enjoying not having to skulk around anymore. I’d ended the ban on staff relationships, which Jakov was also happy about. I’d finally brought out the cherry candy from America. I’d had to pretty much push him all the way through the palace to Simone’s room in the maids’ quarters and knock on the door for him. But, blushing and mumbling, he’d handed over the gift and asked her out. She’d said yes before he even finished the sentence.

The limo pulled away from the curb and we sped off towards the palace. There was a champagne reception for the Prime Minister of Garmania but, the second I felt I could slip away, I was going to whisper in Garrett’s ear and we’d sneak off up to my bedroom. Actually, I had a feeling he might just pick me up and carry me all the way up the tower, when I told him I was wearing that corset underneath my dress. Then, tomorrow, Caroline, Sebastian, Emerik, Jakov, Garrett and I were all booked on a flight to Texas. Garrett’s dad was out of the hospital and the rebuild of the ranch—paid for by the palace—was complete. A week away from the cameras, helping him move in and riding horses, was exactly what we all needed. Plus, I was looking forward to eating ribs and wearing jeans again.

Caroline held something out to me: a velvet box. When I opened it, my jaw dropped. My tiara!

“I saw it on the floor, after the SUV crashed on the highway, and I thought I’d better grab it,” she said. “But then you were trying to be incognito and then you were queen, so I’ve held onto it ever since. I thought you might want it back.”

Garrett picked it up and gently slid it onto my head. Then he just sat there gazing at me, and the look in his eyes made me melt. “What?” I asked shyly. “I’m back to looking like a princess again?”

“No,” he said. “You never stopped.”

And he put those big, warm hands on my shoulders, drew me close and kissed me.

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