There was something soft nudging at her cheek. Petra's eyes drifted open, and as the world swam back into focus, she saw Samuel's gray muzzle hovering over her.

"Princess!" came an urgent voice. The Sparrow Men were kneeling beside her. "Are you alright?"

" 'mokay," she mumbled automatically, realizing as she spoke that her pain had lessened. Her burns had been partially healed, and the ankle she was sure she had sprained was restored.

"I'm sorry we weren't able to do more," Cedar apologized, helping her to sit up. "We are not healers, so our abilities are limited."

"The dragon!" Petra's eyes suddenly snapped open as memories of the battle came flooding back, her hand flying to her belt for a sword that wasn't there. "Where is he!? What happened!?—"

"Be calm, princess." Aspen placed a hand on her shoulder. "Everything is alright. The sorcerer is dead."

"Really?" she said. The fairies led her to the edge of the cliff, and peering down into the gorge, she saw all that remained of her foe: a pool of smoking black tar, her sword stuck upright in the middle. The blade's light had faded, turning an ugly gray, as though tainted by the darkness of the heart it had stabbed.

"You did it, Princess," said Pine. "Malefor has been vanquished."

Petra's brow furrowed. She looked up at castle towers, silhouetted against the sky, finding the tallest one.

"No. Not yet."

Petra hurried through the castle, stepping carefully over the sleeping bodies of sentries and servants. To spare the king and queen from grief, the Sparrow Men had combined their magic to put the whole castle to sleep along with the prince. As if she'd needed any more pressure—now an entire castle's worth of people was depending on her to wake them up. But the one she really cared about was Bryan.

She followed the Sparrow Men to the bottom of a long, winding staircase. Pine made to go up, but Aspen held him back, gesturing for her to go on.

"We'll wait here, Princess. Don't be afraid."

She stared up the dark passageway. Hesitating.

"Princess?"

"I…" She swallowed. After all this running, why wouldn't her feet move all of a sudden?

As though he could read her thoughts, Cedar came forward, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Remember, no one has Truer Love than this, that they lay down their life for a friend," he said gently.

Petra nodded, took a deep breath, and headed up the stairs. They spiraled higher and higher, until she finally pushed open a door and found herself in the room from the sorcerer's vision. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw Bryan, lying motionless on the bed atop the silken blankets. She approached him cautiously.

His face was pale, the traces of a smile on his lips. Her heart throwing itself against her ribs, she wiped off her mouth and took a deep breath, thinking of the song that Bryan had sung in the woods that day:

"Why should thy cheek be pale,
Shaded with sorrow's veil?
Why should'st thou grieve me?
I will never, never leave thee…"

"You'd better have meant that, Bryan," she whispered. Before she lost her nerve, she bent over and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

The very room itself seemed to take a breath. All of a sudden, Bryan's cheeks flooded with color, and his eyes fluttered open, their blue like the sky after a storm.

"Bryan!?" she gasped.

"…Petra? Is that you?" he said, looking up at her.

"Yes. Yes, it's me," she said, trying to keep her voice from squeaking.

"What happened?" he said, taking in her injuries. "Are you okay!? What—"

He was cut off as Petra suddenly engulfed him in a hug. The tears she had held back for so long spilled out onto his shoulder.

"Am I okay?" she choked out, half-laughing. "Bryan, you idiot. You utter, utter idiot!"

The doors to the infirmary burst open. Bryan, who was standing by while the royal physicians treated Petra, looked up as a man and a woman raced inside. His jaw dropped. Were these his—?

The faces of the king and queen were lined from years of sorrow and worry, but their radiant smiles they wore as they looked at him made them seem years younger. Remembering his manners, he bowed; Petra nodded respectfully from her bed.

The queen pressed her hands to her mouth, stifling a sob, and opened her arms. Bryan hesitated only briefly, before he walked into them.

"Rory," she said, tears rippling in her voice. "Oh, Rory! You're here! You're safe!"

"Mother," he said, squeezing his eyes shut against the lump threatening to rise in his throat. When she let go, Theodore gripped Bryan's shoulders, shaking him slightly, as if he couldn't quite believe he was there.

"My son," he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "Welcome home."

"Thank you, Father," said Bryan, and the word felt weird and sad and wonderful in his mouth, all at the same time. Petra watched them, beaming.

"Oh!" Bryan suddenly remembered, and hurried back over to her, taking her hand. "Mother, Father—this is Petra. She's the Princess of Chiraeon. She saved me from the curse, and defeated Malefor for good. He'll never threaten anyone ever again."

"You have our unending gratitude, Princess," said Theodore.

"It's lovely to meet you, Petra," said Miriam warmly. "How wonderful that Rory has found his True Love!"

"Um—" Petra glanced at Bryan. He blushed beet red, looking down at his tunic.

Oh boy. They were going to need to have a serious conversation about this.

It was almost time. Bryan tugged on the clasp of his blue cape. Just how many hundreds of people were downstairs, awaiting their future king? He would probably trip and fall flat on his face in the middle of the hall, in front of everyone.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps. He turned and his jaw dropped as he saw Petra walking towards him.

"Wow!" he said. "You're—I mean, you look…"

"Beautiful?" Petra supplied with a grin.

"Yes," he said. She looked so clean and healthy, dressed in a regal red-and-black gown, with long sleeves that hid the bandages on her arms. Her hair was still long even after they had trimmed off the burned ends, tumbling freely down her shoulders.

"Thank you," she said. "You look pretty nice yourself."

Bryan smiled and ducked his head, sweeping back his hair.

"Careful." She reached up and made his bangs lie flat again. "You don't want to look like a cow licked you right before you came downstairs."

"How do you know what that looks like?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Um…" She pursed her lips, looking off to the side. "Never mind. Let's just concentrate on getting through this ball in one piece."

The trumpets sounded, giving them their cue. Bryan took a deep breath and readjusted his crown. Sensing his nervousness, Petra looked over at him and took his arm.

"…I used to run off and hide in the royal dairy when I was a kid," she whispered. "I'd bury myself in the piles of hay, so sometimes an unsuspecting cow would get a mouthful of my hair along with its dinner."

Bryan grinned at her, and together they descended the grand staircase.

As they emerged into the great hall, a deafening cheer arose from the crowd at the sight of the prince. They made their way over to the king and queen, who stood with Petra's father. She glanced over at him, and to her surprise, he gave her an approving nod. Apparently this time he felt that her disobedience had been for a worthy cause.

"My people," said Theodore, spinning Bryan around to face the crowd. "Many of you know the curse that was placed on our house eighteen long years ago, a curse that has now been broken. I am overjoyed to present to you my son and successor, Prince Rory!"

The crowd exploded in cheers.

"I also give you the young lady responsible for ending the curse, Princess Petra of Chiraeon, daughter of his majesty, King Peter," he said. Petra bowed her head gracefully.

"As of this moment, I hereby proclaim a new alliance with Chiraeon. They shall have our loyalty in both times of trouble and prosperity, and from this day forward, our two kingdoms shall dwell in peace and harmony." He looked at Bryan and Petra, his eyes twinkling. "And perhaps, one day, they shall even join together."

"That would be quite satisfactory," said King Peter, a rare smile gracing his face.

Petra looked straight ahead, her cheeks growing hot, while Bryan shifted beside her. Fortunately, the celebration began soon after, the orchestra striking up a lively tune.

Thank g*d. Petra grabbed Bryan's hand, quickly pulling him out onto the floor.

"Come on."

"What? What are we doing?" he said.

"Dancing."

"Oh, no—Petra, I can't dance," he blurted.

"I'll show you. Let's just get away from all that," she said, jerking her head in their parents' direction.

She showed him where to place his hands, one on her waist, the other clasping hers. It actually didn't turn out to be as hard as he'd first thought.

"Is there anything you don't do well?" he asked her.

"Well, embroidery, for one thing," she said, which made him laugh. "Seriously. G*d, you should see my samplers. But yeah, I'm not so good at that. I'm also not very good at being subtle, or at talking about how I feel, or…" She glanced down at her feet. "Or at even knowing what I'm feeling."

"How are you feeling?" he asked, concerned.

"…You mean, health-wise?" she said. "I actually feel pretty great, considering I fought a dragon yesterday."

"Are you sure?" he said.

"Yeah. The burns still hurt a little, but don't worry. I'll be fine."

"Sorry," he said. "I just—I figured someone ought to worry about you."

"Here we go again," she said. "You've got to stop being so stupidly noble, Bryan."

"No way." He shook his head stubbornly. "Not if it means saving you."

"Then—is it really true what Malefor said?" she asked. "That you did it to—to save me?"

He hesitated, before he finally nodded.

"Bryan!"

"Hey, you fought a dragon to save me," he protested. "I'm not the only one who sacrificed himself here!"

"Fair enough." Petra smiled. "Maybe we're both noble idiots, then."

Bryan looked at the floor.

"Thank you," he mumbled. "Thanks for saving me, Petra."

"Well, if you think for a single second that you're not worth saving, you're wrong," she said playfully.

He smiled. They were so close, he could almost count the freckles on her nose.

"My uncles always told me that there was no truer love than laying down one's life for a friend," he said.

"Yeah," she said. She was suddenly hyper-aware of his hand against her waist. "They told me that, too."

He started to fumble his words.

"But then…then, does that mean that—that we're—?"

"Does that mean I'm your True Love?" she finished, their foreheads almost touching.

Bryan nodded, sure that he could've fried an egg in the heat radiating from his cheeks. She took a deep breath.

"Honestly…I don't know. I don't think either of us can know after only a couple of days."

His face fell, and he quickly pulled away.

"I-I'm sorry. You're right. Sorry."

"But I'm not ruling it out," she said softly.

His head jerked back up so fast he heard his neck crack, and Petra laughed.

"Really?" he said.

"Really," she said, smiling. "Let's just…take it slow. Okay?"

He smiled back.

"That sounds good to me."