Alive. Glorious. Unstoppable.
Tòrr is gone, yes—but through her, he gallops still.
Chapter 33
Sabine
Iremember.
That’s the first thought that enters my mind when I rise from the glass-strewn rubble, in a shredded and mud-stained gown, with the still-steaming body of a monoceros at my feet.
I remember…everything. Meeting Tòrr in another life, when he was nothing but a knock-kneed colt with a horn too heavy for his head. I met him a thousand years ago, and a thousand years beforethat. In fact, I rememberallthe monoceroses of old. Saph. Sunflare. Aurora. Hailstrom. Cloudveil. Stormwatch.
I remember the monoceroses because I remember every day of my former lives. The human bodies I’ve inhabited before, stretching back to the very first, a wizened woman with a beautiful lattice of wrinkles, wild white hair untamed and knotted around her shoulders.
I remember the First Awakening—the hot kiss of Vale’s knife blade against my throat.
The Second Awakening, too, when his same damn knife slashed my belly.
I remember my nine fae brethren in painstaking detail, all the debauched midnight reveries, the games of fate with humanlives in the balance, the long line of drained and discarded acolytes they’ve left behind without a care in the world.
Maybe, though, what I remember most isn’t a memory at all—but a feeling.
Love. It hits me like a gut punch. Love for the eastern wind. For the first snow of December. For the tiny yawn of a mouse.
For Tòrr.
It’s a love that is stained with his loss, that weighs me down like a boulder in my stomach. The kind of love that can tear down kingdoms with its bittersweet pain, that will live in me like a splinter for the rest of my life.
I understand now why my father tried so hard to hide the truth of my identity from me when I first arrived in Norhelm. In every single Return, I’ve chosen the side of nature over the fae. In some cases, it’s taken me longer to arrive to that conclusion. Once, centuries passed before I realized the fae’s rotten core and picked the wilderness instead of their gilded court.
And this Return? The Third?
It must be a record, because I’ve barely been awake as fae for weeks, and I already understandexactlywhat they are.
“Basten,” I rasp, my voice somehow here and not here, like it rides the wind. I run to him, still choking on my sobs. “Tòrr…”
He holds me fiercely, and I swear I can hear a hitch of a sob in his own throat. “He was a legend. Too fierce for this world. He burned too bright, too hot—and he didn’t want you to do the same. To be ruled by his fury.”
“He gave me everything. Blood. Memories. Power. I—I don’t know how to break it to Myst,” I choke out. “I’m afraid she isn’t strong enough to take it. She’s old, Basten. Tòrr was her final mate.”
Basten pulls back to gaze into my eyes. “You tell Myst that we’ll honor him. We’ll make the most of everything he sacrificedto save the city, and we’ll mourn his loss with all the respect due to a monoceros of his strength.”
I nod, swallowing back sobs. I can feel Tòrr, deep in my veins. Urging me to stop crying. To make his sacrifice worth it—before it’s too late.
I take a deep breath. “Get Folke to safety—there’s still some life in him.”
Basten cups his palms at my elbows, supporting me. “I will.”
“I—I have to get to Hekkelveld Castle.” I force myself to keep my eyes on Basten, to not look at Tòrr’s broken body. “That’s where Woudix went—that’s where they all will gather. They’re drawn to it. It’s an ancient structure, built for them thousands of years ago.” I pause, sucking in air, leaning my forehead against his chest. Then, I continue, “I’ll face them there—but first, I have to stop their plague on the city.”
“Let me help you,” he says.
I swallow, touching my hand to his beautiful face. “Tell them—Suri, Ferra, Rian—to spread word through as much of the city as you can. Tell the citizens to climb to the highest floors of their houses. Rooftops, bridges. And towait.”
He nods. He can see the change in me. I know it. His eyes are reverent as he looks over me, like I’m a living star. “I’ll tell the others. But I’m not leaving your side.”
“You have to.” I rest a hand on his shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric. “I need you to get something for me.”
