Haven’s grip loosens and the sword falls, landing in the snow. Her bloodied hands touch her middle. “But I-I was too…”
I stand and take her by the arms. She is bitter cold to the touch. “Not anymore,” I whisper.
The truth is painful to say out loud. She may be like me—forever alive and cursed—but she isn’t dead. Not like before…
I shake off the memory of her falling to the ground in the blood-soaked snow. I’d been so close to losing her, and the pain of it still has its claws buried in me.
“I am like you?” she asks, panic ringing in her voice. “No, no, no. I can’t be like you. Like him.”
I pull her close, wrapping my arms around her and holding her tight. It’s all I can think of doing to comfort her. She’s rigid against me, her arms hanging loosely at her sides.
“It’ll be alright, Haven. Henri’s dead. You’re alive.Weare alive, and Emma’s safe…”
“No, no, no,” she murmurs against me. “Please, no. Please!”
I stroke her back, trying my best to soothe her. “Haven, don’t you see. You’re free from Henri.”
She quiets, and her body sags against me.
“I’m free…”
“Yes. It’s over. You’re free.” Finally, her hands slide up my back and grab onto her my coat. She begins to cry intomy chest softly, and I hold her tight, never wanting to let go of her again.
“I’m free,” she says, the truth of it sinking in. White, pure snow drifts around us, dusting our hair and covering the stained snow at our feet.
“We are free.”
Epilogue
Avrum
The crackling of fire and the murmuring of curious voices fill the late autumn night. I inhale deeply, the sharp smell of sawdust, ash, and burning flesh stinging my nose. It’s difficult to believe that where Lysander and the others dueled not long ago, a funeral pyre now stands. A mountain of dry sticks, leaves, and cloth holds up the body of what is left of Lord Henri.
The growing flames flicker underneath, throwing strange shadows across the many spectators who stand around the site. Alessandro, Favian, and Gunnar are among them, watching and whispering about what they’d missed on the grounds the night before. For a moment, I wonder how different things could’ve been if Malcolm had arrived as planned.
I glance over at Haven, who stays silent beside me with her eyes focused on something far away. This may not be the ending she’d envisioned for herself, but I’m glad to still have her with me. Alive, at least in a way.
As if she can sense my thoughts, she looks up at me with her strikingly beautiful sapphire eyes. They seem to cast a light of their own now that she’s one of us, and they search my face in the darkness. Her bloodstained dress has been replaced with a man’s shirt and brown trousers, all much too big for her slender, wilted frame. The short sword that had taken her life and had saved mine dangles from a belt at her hip.
She barely looks like my Haven anymore. The fragile, unfortunate girl that had been forced into a world where she didn’t belong is gone. This world is hers now.
And what’s become of Lysander and the little maid, Emma? That is a constant question plaguing my mind. After Henri’s death, they hadn’t returned to the manor, and my only hope is that Lysander has gotten her far away from this place. I trust Lysander to keep her safe.
“Brenin.”
Henri’s three guests come over to us.
Gunnar is the first to step forward. “Brenin,” he repeats. “After last night’s events, the loss of Lord Henri, and the rebirth of his mistress, we can only speculate about what has happened. You must know how this looks to outsiders, such as us.”
I only nod. We had murdered one of the highest members of their society. I expected some kind of punishment for what we’d done.
Haven draws closer to me. She may have killed Henri, but I am prepared to take the responsibility for it all.
“And you were appointed Henri’s second-in-command, is that correct?” Gunnar asks.
“I am—was,” I reply.
“We have been discussing last night a great deal.”
