His struggles grew weaker. His eyes, which had been wild with fury and desperation, began to glaze over with that particular emptiness that came only with death.
The vines squeezed tighter. Briar heard a crack. Bones giving way under the pressure. Malus's mouth opened in a soundless scream, but no air moved in or out. The thorns had closed his windpipe completely.
His body spasmed once, twice. Then went still.
The vines held him there for another long moment, thorns still embedded deep in his flesh, before they slowly began to lower his body to the ground. They laid him out almost reverently on the seal's carved surface, then withdrew, sliding back into the earth and leaving only the puncture wounds behind.
Malus's eyes stared sightlessly at the night sky. Blood still seeped from dozens of thorn wounds, pooling beneath him. His chest didn't rise. His heart didn't beat. The autumn decay that had surrounded him constantly, that essence of his power, had dissipated entirely.
Malus was dead.
Eliam stood over his brother's body for a long moment, his chest heaving. The doubled harmonics in his voice had faded, leaving only his own rough tones when he finally spoke.
"It's done."
The words should have carried triumph, relief, even regret, instead they fell empty in the sudden quiet, as empty as Malus's staring eyes.
Around them, the forest began to settle. The vines that had erupted during the fight sank back into the earth. The trees that had leaned and shifted returned to their natural positions. Even the wind, which had howled with Malus's fury, died to nothing more than a gentle breeze.
Briar tried to speak, to tell Eliam she was still conscious, still here. Her lips formed the shapes of words but no sound emerged. Her body had gone beyond exhaustion and that strange liminal space she'd been occupying grew darker at the edges, pulling her down despite her desperate attempt to remain aware.
Eliam took a step in her direction, then another. He paused, his body swaying, his hands rising to grip his head, fingers digging into his temples as if trying to hold something inside from breaking free. A sound escaped him, raw and pained.
Then his knees buckled.
He went down hard, catching himself on his hands before he could topple completely. His head bowed, shoulders heaving with the effort of simply remaining upright. The reunification, the battle, channeling the forest's full power—all of it had finally taken its toll.
She wanted to go to him, but the darkness kept pulling, and her body had nothing left to fight it with.
The last thing she saw before the blackness took her was Eliam on his hands and knees, trying and failing to reach her.
Then nothing.
Chapter thirty-seven
The bedchamber was too quiet.
Briar lay on top of the covers beside Eliam, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. Three days. Three days since they'd returned from the seal, since Malus had died, since Arion had...
She pressed her hand to her chest where the warmth used to live, finding only hollow absence. Not painful, just empty. Like a tooth missing from her mouth that her tongue kept searching for.
Eliam looked peaceful in sleep. Younger. The harsh lines around his mouth had softened, and his white hair spread across the pillow in a way that made her fingers itch to touch it. But she kept her hands to herself, afraid that if she touched him, he'd disappear entirely.
The healers couldn't explain it. His body was whole, healthy. No injuries remained from the fight. The reunification had worked perfectly—too perfectly, one of them had muttered when they thought she wasn't listening. He should have woken by now.
Outside, the Forest Court continued without its king. Thaine held things together through sheer will and the threat of violence against anyone who suggested maybe they didn't need to wait for Eliam's return. The forest itself seemed to be holding its breath, waiting.
She'd woken in this same bed two days ago, her body screaming from what the magic had done to her. Thaine had been there, had explained how they'd carried both her and Eliam back from the seal. How the corruption was receding now that Malus was dead. How the seal itself remained cracked but stable, for now.
Karse had returned to his homeland, whatever debts he felt he owed now settled. Sian had taken temporary stewardship of the Star Court in Arion's absence—a difficult position, managing a court that had lost its lord in a way no one quite understood how to explain.
He hadn't mentioned Arion. Hadn't needed to.
The door opened quietly, and Thaine entered with a tray. The smell of food made her stomach turn.
"You need to eat," he said, setting it on the bedside table.
"I'm not hungry."
