My legs give out and I collapse into the throne, unable to focus my vision on either Morwen or the Dealmaker.
Gone.
The bright green leaves above my horns taunt me. Too bright. Too hopeful. What is there to hope for now?
“Say,” the Dealmaker remarks, taking a few steps closer to the throne. “That’s not…?” he asks, looking at the flower bud.
“Halemercy,” Morwen confirms.
And now Ingrid will never know about it.
The heat inside me cools, fires going dark. Frost spreads across the windows, our breaths fogging in the suddenly-cold room.
The halemercy blossom wilts, then falls at my feet.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ingrid
The prick of a needle makes me hiss, snatching my finger back.
“Shattered—” I stop myself from uttering the demonic curse, bringing my finger to my lips instead to prevent getting any blood on Ella’s wedding dress. “Can’t seem to keep my hands steady,” I murmur, hoping Ella doesn’t notice the tremor in my voice.
It’s not pricking my finger that makes my words wobble. It’s not even seeing Ella being fitted for her wedding dress when I would be doing the same had I stayed in the demon realm.
It’s the realization of how accustomed I grew to their way of life. To their exotic foods and foreign curses, how quickly it all became a part of my life, too.
It was only ever meant to last through winter, I had all the time I needed to prepare myself. I’m not sure a lifetime would be long enough.
“Excuse me,” I say, slipping away from my brother’s blushing fiancee for some fresh air.
It does little good. Without the canopy of Crownwood and the network of sprawling roots spreading out before me, the land feels empty. Without the distant snow-capped peaks of Lumen Reach on the horizon, my eyes keep searching.
“Ingrid?” Phillip calls.
I’ve been standing in the same spot, looking out at nothing in particular for I don’t even know how long. The sun’s moved across the sky, the shadows growing longer. Time for supper, then?
My stomach flips at the thought of food.
“What’s going on?” Phillip asks, a furrow between his brow. His wounds have healed, only the faintest trace of yellowish green left from his black eye. He’s back to his usual, smiling self–or would be, if he wasn’t talking to me right now. These days, that always produces a frown.
“Just…looking,” I say unconvincingly.
Phillip steps around so that he’s directly in front of me, blocking my view.
“Ella’s worried she’s done something to upset you. I told her it’s not that, but…what is it? What happened with the Judge? Anytime I bring him up, people think I’m joking. No one’s seen him—no one seems torememberhim, Ingrid, and I feel like I’m going mad. Tell me I’m not.”
My throat tightens, eyes misting with tears I won’t release.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I don’t know how Phillip’s the only one to remember the true events that led to me summoning the Dealmaker, and I don’t know how to convince him of his sanity without disabusing him of mine.
“You’re not,” I sigh. “Your mind is as fit as ever.”
“So you remember him? Did he do something to you? Touch you? Harm you?”
“The Judge is gone, Phil.” At this point, I don’t know if he’s dead or simply removed from existence. It’s the same to meeither way. “I can explain, but then you’ll be convinced I’m the one who needs the asylum.”
Phillip’s brow furrows more, his frown deepening to make him look much older than the boy I always imagine him as.
