The king is in his rooms. I step out into the juncture of the hallway, ignoring the men, and instead, turning left. Though my exploration of the castle has been minimal, I know that I need to find the main entranceway. If I can make it there, I can figure out how to get to the third floor, which not only holds my rooms—whatweremy rooms—but the king’s as well.
As I walk, aware there are screams of terror that surround me as people cling to walls or run in the other direction, I think about what it will be like to finally threaten the king to his face. To perhaps pull on the rage that had been born of Alexi, Immie, and Tienne’s deaths and use that as an anchor within me to power me through it. I do not think the king will beg for his life. In fact, a sick part of me wonders if he will enjoy a death at my hands if only because I’ll be touching him willingly. But as the stairs that I’ve climbed a hundred times finally show themselves, I find that everything surrounding the king’s impending demise feels oddly anticlimactic.
King Dolian has been such a large presence in my life—an unshakable sickness that has slowly rotted me piece by piece until I’ve turned into the very thing I once feared, yet he is also just a man. No magic of his own. Nothing but his guards and a deal with a siren queen that seems more beneficial to her than him.
I climb the first handful of steps as I focus on drawing just enough breath that I don’t pass out, my head still fuzzy and the shadows still surrounding me, when my name is called out from below.
“Rhea!”
Looking over my shoulder, I meet a set of blue eyes that give a temporary resurrection of my broken heart, fear and joy mingling together as I take her in. She stands in the open door that leads to this main foyer, the night sky a dark backdrop behind her. “Eve,” I breathe, my magic drawing in a fraction as we stare at each other.
“Lady Rhea.” Her hands work nervously in front of her, a small thing, but it makes me more aware of how I must look than any reactions from the nobles and guards did, though they all seem to be hiding now.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as I turn around.
Eve takes in the way my magic surrounds and clings to me, a dress made of darkness for a woman barren of light, yet her expression shows no disgust. No judgement of any kind. Instead, she quirks her lips, which can’t be right because why would she smile at a monster?
“Did you really think I was just going toleaveduring your most important moment?”
I descend a single step, my fingers twitching around the daggers’ hilts. “I’m not going to marry the king,” I say, my voice wrong to my own ears. Eve notices the change in it too, and a look that I might have called proud gives way to concern.
“Of course, you aren’t. I was talking about yourescape.”
Her lavender tunic shines beneath the flames of the chandeliers above, and the magic that flares for the briefest second isn’t frigid or numbing but…warm. Just a flicker of it—no bigger than a candle flame—but I feel it come to life as our gazes hold, and I realize just how much I have missed her presence. “You are supposed to be visiting your family.”
“And I was,” she counters, pushing away from the door. “But I didn’t feel right leaving you after…” She trails off, and I know we’re both back in King Dolian’s room at the moment I realized just what he was doing to her. What hehadbeen doing to her.
“I’m sorry, Eve. I’msosorry.” The words are not nearly enough, as ifanythingI say could make up for her suffering.
Her gaze softens, and it’s worse than when the king laid his hands on me because I don’t deserve her kindness. “There isnothingfor yo—”
Eve’s body jerks forward abruptly, the motion strange and her accompanying gasp just as unnatural in its sound. I’m so busy scanning her face—her expression twisted into outrighthorror—that it takes me a moment to recognize the metal that glints in front of her. To absorb that it’s the bloodied tip of a sword protruding from her chest. Her eyes only grow wide for a breath—a single blink where her body reacts to the invasion of the weapon. The blade retreats, and she collapses, the scene all too familiar in a way that pushes a fractured sob past my lips. My vision flashes, replacing Eve’s body with Alexi’s, the pooling of their blood merging together in my mind’s eye as I rush down the stairs. I reach for the warmth of my healing magic, fanning that small flame as I call it to my hands, the daggers melting away until only white glows.
But someone else is standing over her body, his eyes glaring at me and a savage smirk already painted on his face. Simon takes a step closer, holding a guard’s sword out in front of him ashe stares down at the blood—Eve’sblood—spreading away from her body and towards his shoes.
No. No, this isn’t happening.Not again. Not with Eve. Eve, who had endured the king’s vile attention and unwanted touch. Who took in my somber attitude and judgement of her blood oath andstilltried to befriend me. Who showed me the tunnels and a way to the library because she knew I needed a place to escape, even if it was still within these stone walls.Eve, who isn’t supposed to fuckingbehere!She isn’t supposed to be here!
I had tried—gods,how I hadtried—to be someone worthy of this life. Of the magic in my veins and the responsibility needed to wield it. But there is no hesitation, no stopping the way I send the shadows out like whips, wanting him to suffer, my scream burning a savage path up my throat until I’m sure the whole world will hear it.
Simon’s stance shifts before the first onyx rope strikes him, as if he means to avoid it. But my magic is faster, and it lashes at his chest with a brutality that can’t be explained, only felt. I don’t watch him fall as I rush to Eve, kneeling and pretending I don’t feel her blood soaking through the fabric of my dress.
“You can’t save her,” Simon taunts with a pained laugh, turning to watch as I scoop her into my arms, my magic already filling her body. I don’t lift a hand as shadows lash at him again, my intention to hurt him but not yet kill him. His pained scream is nothing but an echo as I keep my focus on my friend, sure that I can save her. That this time is different because how could itnotbe? I amrighthere— But this close, I can see her wound more clearly. It isn’t at the center of her chest, where there are no fewer vital things, but slightly off to the right. Directly through her heart. Intentionally placed for instant death, and that knowledge slithers through me like poison.
Eve’s lips turn blue, and though her body feels warm beneath my touch, it is artificial. I don’t blink away any tears becausethere are none left in me to shed. There is just this void, empty and fathomless and eternal as it beckons me deeper into it.
Simon’s laugh is cruel, even as it wheezes from his chest. “You’ll never fucking escape him. You willneverbe queen of the Mage Kingdom, and I hope you remember what it is to fail like thisover and over again.”
My hands are steady as I gently lay Eve down, her hands crossing her stomach as I commit her sweet face to memory.Another failure. Another life.I lay my forehead against hers, and for all the sadness and rage that I know brews within me like a storm somewhere in the distance, when I rise, blood clinging to my skin and heavy in the fabric of my dress, I feel nothing but that ancient magic. That knowing feeling. That brutal urge toendanddecayandrot.
When I look at Simon again, he is attempting to crawl towards an open door just past the stairs. My shadows gather at my silent command, black chords wrapping around him until he’s spun and then lifted in the air. His tattered tunic reveals decaying flesh on his chest, and I cock my head to the side when I meet his gaze. Goosebumps mottle my skin and hair tickles the side of my face as my vision flashes, color seeping out with each blink until only shades of gray remain. Without hesitation, and with the kind of numb apathy that can only be nurtured in the absence of anythinggood, I let my magic attack Simon in all the ways I wish I could have attacked everyone who hurt me. Who took something from me without my permission. Who abused andkilledothers in my name. I’m tethered to every way my magic cuts into his body, and I hate that it’s come to this. That it’s alwaysmewho has to concede a part of myself.Mewho has to be the sacrificial lamb when all I’ve ever wanted is to befree.
Wetness splatters against the surrounding surfaces as the king’s advisor lets out a guttural scream. I move forward, thefloor gone beneath my feet, until I’m right in front of him,feelingthe sluggish way his heart beats as if it were in my own chest.
There’s a pause in my magic—the skip of a different pulse as my shadows writhe around the room. It nearly draws my attention away from Simon, nearly makes me question what I’m doing. But then my vision darkens and that icy feeling creeps along my spine and over my ribs, and there is no stopping what comes next. It takes no effort at all to will my magic to drain his remaining life, and it should scare me—all of this shouldscareme—but as I watch his body wither until there is only the macabre pile of ash in bloodstained clothing, all I feel isrelief.
Rhea. I press the heels of my palms into my eyes at the sound of Nox’s voice, power surging into every limb. Howdaremy mind conjure him now. He wouldhateto see what I’ve become. Hate to—
Sunshine,look at me.
