We assist Aspen, guiding him toward the wall of the fortification where he can lean his weight. Once he’s settled, I race to the medical tent with hardly a glance at the blood and carnage Breeda had mentioned. I pull open the tent flap with force.
I startle as I enter, finding a human woman doing the same. She whirls to face me, her hand flying to her mouth. My eyes move from the cases of supplies she’s gathering, then to the symbol of the winged staff on her tan uniform. She’s a nurse. And not just any nurse. Considering how quickly Dahlia’s injury was treated after I stabbed her, the nurses in this camp are trained to treat the fae. Sliding my gaze to her left wrist, I find a strand of red beads. I lurch forward and grab her forearm tightly in my fingers, nails digging into her flesh. With the other hand, I rip the strand of rowan beads from her wrist and toss them to the floor. She cries out with alarm, cowering away from me, but I grab her by the shoulders and shake her into silence. Bringing my face close to hers, I lock her gaze with mine. The imagery of the bird in the cage comes at once. Her face goes slack, pupils dilating.
Just like that, I have her under my control.
“You will tend to my mate at once.”
* * *
It isn’tuntil his surgery is over that I feel I can finally breathe again. After tedious hours spent helping the human nurse remove every bit of iron embedded in his skin, all we can do is wait for the others to return. Luckily, laudanum proved effective on him, easing his pain and allowing him to slip into unconsciousness. I now watch him sleep, taking in the rise and fall of his breaths. The tendrils of black have ceased their spread, although I doubt they will begin to recede until we return to the Faerwyvae side of the wall.
But hewillheal.
I place my hands over his chest, willing my inner fire to strengthen his, to speed his healing.
The nurse stands at his head and checks his pulse. “He’s stable,” she says. Still under my glamour, her moves are precise, her tone even.
I lock my eyes with hers. “You will continue to tend to him until I release you.”
Her face slackens further than it already is. “I will.”
I return my attention to Aspen. I don’t know how long my glamour over the nurse will last. I’ve always known a mental glamour isn’t nearly as strong as using one’s true name. But in case my friends return wounded, I’ll need all the assistance caring for them that I can get.
Sudden commotion comes from somewhere outside the medical tent—several sets of footsteps and what sounds like sobbing. Fear prickles the back of my neck as my thoughts immediately go to Amelie.
“Stay here,” I order the nurse. Then, with a final glance at my dozing mate, I dart from the tent.
My eyes find Amelie at once, rushing from the door of the lighthouse tower, followed by Breeda. The two had gone to the top to keep watch for the return of our friends. But the commotion comes from the far end of the camp. Amelie joins my side as we eye the spaces between the tents. Flames erupt from my fingertips, shaping into an orb, but my sister stills me with a touch. “It’s them,” she says. “Estel and the Lunar Queen. I saw them from the lighthouse.”
Relief washes over me, and a second later, I see Nyxia leading the party. Shadows writhe around her, but she remains in seelie form. Her black trousers and tunic are torn, and nearly every inch of her skin is coated in blood. But that’s not the most shocking sight. Wailing and sobbing at the Lunar Queen’s side is Dahlia, stumbling while Nyxia drags her forward. The normally composed Summer Queen is covered in dirt, blood, and grime, one of her yellow butterfly wings bent at an unnatural angle. “Phoebe,” Dahlia cries out, shoulders heaving.
“Phoebe is dead,” Nyxia says through her teeth.
Estel follows closely behind Nyxia, her shimmering particles a dull glow, although she seems otherwise unharmed. Franco limps next to her, but the fact that he’s alive tells me the wound Mr. Duveau gave him wasn’t too bad after all. The only other figure is a single fae soldier—one of Nyxia’s wraiths. His robes flutter on an invisible wind, but I can’t help noticing the trail of blood he leaves behind. Is it his? Or that of his enemies?
“There are less than we came with,” Breeda says, fluttering by my ear. “I am most certain we traveled with four guards.”
My heart sinks at that. When they finally stop before us, Nyxia shoves Queen Dahlia, who falls to her knees, her sobs never ceasing. “You know what to say,” Nyxia says, her tone thick with venom.
Dahlia flashes a miserable look at me before sitting back on her heels, mumbling something unintelligible?
“What’s that?” Nyxia prods. “It doesn’t count if she can’t hear you.”
Dahlia takes several shaking breaths. This time, her words are clear. “I accept and acknowledge your rule. You are the rightful Queen of Fire.”
Nyxia’s lips peel back in a triumphant grin. “The Renounced are defeated. Phoebe is dead and Dahlia has surrendered on behalf of the rest.”
My mouth falls open, but I’m not sure what to say. In light of the devastation of battle, I hadn’t given a moment’s thought to how we fared against the Renounced. With Cobalt’s death and Dahlia’s surrender, there’s no other fae to stand against us. Unless the pretender kings and queens count, which I’m certain they don’t. We’ve won. “And the human army?”
“Retreated,” Estel says. “We pursued as many as we could, but we couldn’t stray too far south. We’re already far enough from the wall as it is.”
“Wait, where’s Aspen?” Nyxia asks, looking around the camp.
“He’s stable. He went under surgery to remove the iron bullets embedded inside him, but we need to get him back to Faerwyvae. Do you still have a Chariot?”
Estel nods. “We’ll depart at once.”
“What are we doing with her?” Nyxia tilts her head toward Dahlia. Then her gaze falls on my sister, and she wrinkles her nose. “And her?”
