Then Quinn plunges his right hand deep into John’s chest.
The crack of bone and sloppy wetness mingles with John’s guttural grunts and gurgles. Then the king’s body jerks. Once. Twice. Slumps in Quinn’s hold as his bloody hand emerges heart gripped in his first. “I’ll see you in fucking Hell.”
Drained of his strength, Quinn tosses John aside like trash. The heart slips out of his hand, and when he sways, Eleanor is there, wrapping her arms around her brother. She’s crying, her neck bleeding from where John pressed the sword’s tip to the delicate flesh. Then she glares at me as ifI’mthe enemy. “How could you?”
Frantically, I shake my head. “I had to.” Again, my stomach heaves at the lingering feel of the blade sinking into Quinn’s eyeball.
“I’m fine, Little Badger.” He blinks a few times as if clearing his vision, his mutilated eye growing back. “It was a sound plan.” He kisses the top of her head. “I’ve missed you.”
She’s gazing up at him in adoration, her arms still locked around his waist as if she’s afraid to let him go. “I’ve missed you as well.”
“Come here, Princess.”
I’m breathless when I reach him, and Quinn hooks a finger under my chin and forces me to look up at him. “You took the eye.”
“I took the eye,” I repeat.
His expression darkens when he passes his gaze over my head. I can only imagine what a mess I am. “I need to sit down before I fall down,” he groans without taking his eyes off my mangled hair.
He drops to the edge of the bed with Eleanor practically fused to his side. His eye is already healing, but he’s covered in blood. His. John’s. The men he’s killed.
With one last soldier left standing, the coward surrenders. Dax, however, doesn’t show the man who held my hair in those shears any mercy. Then, with a fist to his heart and deep bow, Sir Walter takes his leave to free Sybil and gather what remains of the garrison.
Rygard is mine.
We won.
But I find no joy in this victory—especially when Dax musses what’s left of my hair. “You’re a mess, Little Captive.” He pulls me into his arms and hugs me so tightly he squeezes the air out of me. “I love you too much.” He rains kisses all over my face. “I was terrified we were going to lose you.” His next kiss is so tender I can’t stop the tears that spill down my cheeks. I cling to him, breathing him in, savoring him.
And then he’s gone, and Wren is there. My Wren. The boy who found me in the tower. Who I’ve loved since I was twelve. The man who once hated me but ultimately saved me. Who freed me. And who is kissing me as if I am his next breath.
This man who nearly died in my arms.
Oh, God…
I love these men with all of myself. With every part of me.
Then Wren touches my hair with a reverence that tears my heart to pieces. They’ll see the loss of half my life staring back at them whenever they look at me. They’ll spend the rest of our lives preserving what’s left of my golden hair.
That is no life at all.
I pull away from Wren and turn to Dax. “The vial I gave you… Did you use it?”
“Fuck no,” Dax says with a smirk. “Unlike these two,” he motions to Wren and Quinn, who are literally bloody messes. “I kept myself alive during this fight.”
Thank God. “May I see it, please?”
Dax fishes inside the pocket of his jerkin for the vial. “See? Told you. It’s full.”
Perfect.
I pick up the dropped shears and act quickly before anyone realizes what I’m about to do. I fist what’s left of my long hair. Someone shouts my name. Someone else yells. Then Quinn dives for me. But he’s a breath too late. I squeeze the shears. The blades cut. Oh, sweet God in Heaven, they cut. Agony pulls a scream from me as every nerve in my body ignites with pain. I think the shears slip from my fingers, but agony clouds my mind. I drop to the floor…
But I don’t collide with the stone.
Quinn catches me. “Oh, God. Fuck. What did you do, Rapunzel?”
His wail resonates throughout the room, with chaos making everything a blur. I have to close my eyes, and in the darkness, the pain ebbs. It’s calm here. Warm. But lonely. So very lonely. Like being dropped in the middle of a vast, cold nothingness.
