Jessina Iceheart died in pain, heartbroken over the lies I told her about Bane, weeping from despair that my magic forced into her, and with my own dagger in her heart. I wanted my revenge, and now I have it.
I have killed and hurt people without remorse. I’ve used dragon steel to force the leader of the Gold Clan to do my bidding. I’ve been vicious and ruthless. And I’ve been cruel. I didn’t just kill Jessina. I made her suffer as she did. And I feel nothing but brutal satisfaction about that.
I became a villain.
But I will not become her.
I will not become a new Jessina Iceheart.
So I force in another deep breath and pull myself fully back from the edge of insanity.
“Tell them to go back to their home,” I say to Draven. “That wasteland in the north that they destroyed in the last war. Tell them to take their whole clan and go back there to rebuild what they ruined.”
He holds my gaze for a few seconds before giving me a nod. Turning back to the soldiers of the Silver Clan, he begins issuing orders like the Commander of the Dread Legion that he was for so long.
My chest still aches with rage and hatred, so I turn around and walk away.
Winds wash over me as I leave the army of enemies behind.
It’s enough.
We won the war. Draven is free. My friends are safe. And the Icehearts are dead.
It’s enough now.
That rage that is still burning inside me keeps trying to consume my soul, eating me alive from the inside.
Shaking my head, I force myself to let that terrible anger go. With a massive push of pure willpower, I throw the gates of my soul open and let all my raging fury drift away across the already blood-soaked plains.
Goddess above, I’m exhausted.
Being angry all the time is so fucking exhausting.
Vengeance has been claimed.
Now, it is time tolive.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Several other people know the passphrases to the wards now, so by the time Draven and I reach the Seelie Court, everyone else is already there. While the dragon shifters say goodbye and take off back towards their own homelands, the fae of our court remain out there on the grasslands, glancing in confusion between our strange group and the lone woman who walks out of the thorn forest.
Lavendera keeps her head held high as she strides towards us. But I can practically see the anxious worry and the fragile hope flitting across her beautiful face. She has been waiting for this moment for six thousand years.
Next to me, the Dryad Queen is gliding across the ground, the vines of her hair and dress rippling behind her.
It took most of the night to wrap everything up on the battlefield, find the wounded who could still be saved, and burn the dead we have lost. Afterwards, the rest of Draven’s clan flew to the Unseelie Court to let Orion’s citizens return home, while Diana, Ejnare, and the other dragon shifters who bonded the Seelie fae returned here to drop them off before heading back to their own homelands.
And now, as Draven, Isera, Orion, Alistair, Lyra, Galen, the Dryad Queen, and I walk towards Lavendera, the first rays of a new sun begin peaking up over the horizon.
“So, how was your first dragon flight?” I ask, giving the Dryad Queen an amused glance.
She just glides along in silence for another second before cocking her head in an oddly human gesture. “Surprisingly pleasant.”
Since it would have taken her too long to travel back to the Seelie Court on foot, she agreed to let Draven fly her back instead. I have never seen such a giddy expression on such a normally so wise and immortal face before. She was practically grinning the whole way here.
“Well, you and your people are welcome on the Western Isles any time,” Draven says, sliding her a look as well.
Her brown eyes gleam in the light of the rising sun. “We might take you up on that one day.”
