“I love you,” she said, her voice steady even as her heart fractured. "You're my reason for living."
Phillip lunged toward her. Mal’s arm snapped forward. The blade whistled through the air, aimed not at him, but past him. It struck true.
A piercing scream ripped through the throne room as the sword buried itself in the throne. From the blade fell a curtain of blond hair… and the remnants of Aurora's ear.
Ariel’s haunting melody broke into a discordant shriek as her control shattered. Aurora's hands cupped what was left of her ear.
Phillip staggered as the siren’s hold released its grasp. His eyes cleared, the vacancy replaced with horror as he took in the scene before him. “Mal…” he croaked, his voice raw.
"I told you I'd take her hair if she made a play for you."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Phillip's vision sharpened as he blinked out of Ariel’s spell. The hazy fog of her siren call lifted like a heavy weight from his mind as Aurora's blond locks floated to the ground with red tints at their edges. He didn't feel the slightest hint of irritation at Mal. Didn't feel an ounce of sorrow for Rory. She'd been warned. What made him see past the red of Aurora's blood were the bruises on Mal.
They were from his own hands. Guilt hit him. The sensation wrenched his heart in ways he hadn’t known it could twist.
“Mal…”
She held up a hand, cutting him off with a shake of her head. Her head wasn't the only thing shaking. A deep, unsettling rumble rolled through the walls, like a low growl from the very bones of the castle.
It was Ariel. The sea fairy's piercing wails filled the air. The awful sounds shook the stone foundations around them. Outside the tall windows, water rose unnaturally high. Waves thrashed like enraged beasts as they crashed toward the castle walls.
“We have to get everyone out.” Phillip pulled Mal to him.
With a final glance toward the throne room, where Ariel and Aurora were on the floor like broken statues amidst the chaosthey had unleashed, Phillip turned away. Together, he and Mal raced down the corridors, their hands intertwined, calling out to the soldiers, servants, and forest folk alike.
Footsteps thundered. Voices cried out. The distant roar of waves crashed through the lower levels of the castle.
"If we raise the gates, we'll flood the village and castle," said one of the guards who helped a servant to her feet.
"It's the only way to not kill everyone," said Phillip. "We go to the forests."
"The Forest Folk will kill us," insisted the guard.
"They will not," said Mal. "That is if your heart is open."
The guard looked at her with a screwed-up expression, as though he didn't understand her words. Mal lifted a brow at Phillip. He wanted to tell her that she didn't sell the philosophy correctly. But they had more pressing matters to attend to—namely the imminent flood.
Mal called out orders to the forest folk, leading them toward safer paths. Phillip shouted commands to his people, ensuring they stayed clear of the rising water.
They moved as a team, shifting to support those around them. Mal helped an elderly man who’d fallen behind. She lifted him up with a gentleness he knew only a few ever saw from her. He felt his heart tighten, his chest swelling with an aching pride and a fierce, protective love.
Finally, they reached the forests. The last group of people breached the sacred tree circle in the cloak of the night. Just as the final stragglers stumbled to safety, a monstrous wave crashed against the stone walls of the keep, sending a tremor through the ground.
Phillip watched his home—his legacy—being swallowed by the relentless tide. The water surged through the windows, flooding the great halls and snuffing out the torches that had once cast such proud light across the castle grounds. The goldentapestries, the portraits of his ancestors, the legacy of his family—it was all disappearing, one wave at a time.
“It’s… it’s gone.”
Mal’s hand tightened in his, pulling him back from the despair that threatened to swallow him too. He turned, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were dark, fierce, yet filled with a steady reassurance that he didn’t have to face this alone.
“You still have your people," she said.
"He has your people too," said Doran.
Around him, the dryads and sprites and other fae all gave their acquiescence.
Mal turned so that all could see and hear her. "We've all suffered loss here on this day. Loss of family, loss of land. But we will rebuild. Together.”
