“She already tasted what lies in Concordia. She will want more. All of them, if she can reach them. You’ve seen what happens when one falls.”
Summer.
Aurelia’s kingdom, cursed and asleep.
Winter, drained and dead.
“If she drains Harvest too…” I didn’t finish the sentence.
“You won’t have a realm left to save,” Ire said. “Only a graveyard of frozen, empty thrones and the bones of fae who once knelt before them.”
A muscle ticked in my jaw. “You telling me this is your way of helping?”
“My way of reminding you,” he said, “You’re not as unimportant as you might think to the fate of the realm. Aurelia can wield enough power to turn an army to ash, but she cannot stand in every city at once. She cannot guard every throne.”
“And I’m what in this scenario?” I asked. “Her errand boy?”
His gaze burned. “You are the blade she can’t afford to be. The one who goes where she can’t, does what she shouldn’t.” He nodded east, in the direction of Grey Oak. “If you want to protect her, Shadow Prince, you will stand between Heliconia and that throne. Whether it kills you is beside the point.”
“Not to her,” I said quietly.
His expression softened again, that same not-comforting way. “You think she would thank me for undoing your vow?” he said. “She would not. She would waste years trying to spare you both fate’s cruelty. Time you don’t have.” He spread his hands. “Better a blade that knows its edge than one constantly trying to dull itself.”
“I’m not going to spend whatever time I have left waitingfor some preordained moment to die,” I said. “If the Fates want me, they can come and pry me out of Aurelia’s hands.”
His mouth quirked. “That would make for an awkward meeting, don’t you think?”
I ignored that, buttoning my shirt over the dried blood still caked on my ribs. “You said you can’t undo the vow. Fine. That doesn’t mean I have to accept how it ends.”
“Meaning?” he asked.
“Meaning I’m done imagining myself in a grave,” I said. “If the Fates try to claim her, I’ll be there. I’ll make the choice then. But until that moment, I am not your sacrificial pawn. I’m her general. Her ally. Her equal. I’ll bleed for her. Kill for her. And if I must, I’ll die for her. But it will bemydecision. Not yours. Not theirs.”
Silence stretched.
Shadows coiled tighter around my boots, drawn by the iron in my voice. For once, the god of Hel didn’t snap at me for my disrespect.
Finally, he said, “You mortals are always so dramatic.”
“Comes from growing up in your shadow,” I said.
He huffed a laugh. “Very well. I can’t unmake what you swore. But I won’t push you toward it either. I’ve seen too many heroes run headlong into their deaths because they thought it made them worthy.” His gaze sharpened. “Don’t be that stupid.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I said dryly.
“Good.” He stepped back, the clearing seeming to grow deeper around him. “Then go to Grey Oak. Play politics with your half-brother. Protect the throne he’s too arrogant to fear properly. And when Aurelia arrives—and she will—try not to provoke Heliconia before you’re both ready to face her.”
I froze. “Aurelia’s going to Grey Oak?”
He gave me a look that said I was being slow. “Where else would she go, once she learned what you just did? You thinkshe’ll let Heliconia take another throne without trying to stop it?”
The thought of her marching into Grey Oak alone—of her furyfire sparking too hot to be contained, of Heliconia turning the Ice Throne’s power on her—made something inside me twist.
I looked back at Ire, unsure whether to thank him or curse him for his part in all this. The light around him dimmed, his shape already blurring at the edges.
“Rydian,” he added.
I stiffened. “What?”
