A new eye has appeared in Orion’s previously empty eye socket. And not just a new eye. It looks exactly like his original one. Even down to the placement of the silver flecks in the swirls of black, perfectly recreating the same beautiful composition that makes his eyes look like slivers of the night sky.
Orion staggers a step back, staring wide-eyed at the two dryads before him. Reaching up, he touches the side of his face while shock crackles over his features.
The scar is still there, cutting through his eyebrow from his forehead to the top of his cheek. A reminder of his sacrifice. But his eye…
A sob rips from Orion’s throat, and his knees buckle.
Isera is there immediately, catching him before he can fall. Sliding her arm around his waist, she keeps him upright while hedrags in unsteady breaths. Tears slide down from his eyes. His two now fully functioning eyes.
“When you rushed to our realm to save our people and bring them to the Unseelie Court, Grey lost his life,” the Dryad Queen says. “The Mother Dryad cannot bring him back. But we can restore something else you lost. Because without you, there would be no dryads left to protect this world.”
Both of them incline their heads.
“Thank you, Orion Nightbane,” the Mother Dryad says as she meets his gaze again. “For protecting my children when I could not. Your new eye has been created using your own body’s memories. It isyoureye, in every sense of the word.” A mischievous sparkle appears in her own eyes, and a slight smile blows across her lips. “Though because it has been created from a soul of a tree, it also possesses some… extra abilities. Which you will discover over time.”
I glance at the small golden orbs floating around us. They are the souls of trees? Are these small glowing spheres the offspring of that large sphere we rescued from the ice? Seeds that, with the help of the Mother Dryad, will later become new dryads?
Orion draws in a shuddering breath. Straightening again, he bows his head deeply to the Mother Dryad. “Thank you.”
She places light fingers under his chin, tilting his head back up. A warm smile shines on her ancient face. “Keep your chin raised, Unseelie King. You have much to be proud of.”
Then she steps back. The wall of glowing orbs flutters out around the two dryads like wings. With smiles on their faces, they sweep their gazes over us all.
“Until we meet again,” the Dryad Queen says.
“Until we meet again,” we all reply.
They give us all a nod. Then they turn around and walk away. Rippling vines and the glowing souls of trees flow behind them as they stride away towards the great forests beyond.
Orion smiles after them, tears glittering in his two beautiful eyes.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
The Golden Palace is filled with people. Excitement bounces between the shimmering walls as everyone who can manage squeezes themselves into the throne room. An elegant throne has been carved, and it now waits atop the short dais that runs along the back of the room. Light from the massive golden chandeliers in the ceiling cast glittering sparkles over it.
“How nervous do you think she is?” Lyra asks, a grin on her mouth.
“I told her to remember to smile, and she threw an ice spear at me,” Alistair replies.
A burst of laughter rips from my lungs. Then I give Alistair a sidelong look. “To be fair, that was probably not the best thing to tell her.”
He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Why not?”
“Because Isera doesn’t need to smile more,” Orion replies before I can so much as open my mouth. There is an intense look in his eyes as he keeps his gaze fixed on the door that Isera will be walking out of any moment now. “She is perfect the way she is.”
Turning my head slightly, I hide a smile.
Draven, on the other hand, is not so merciful. He flashes theUnseelie King a smirk from where he is standing on my other side. “Are you about to compose another poem?”
“You’re just jealous because you can’t even spellpoem,” Orion replies, a sly smile on his lips. “I thought my superior manners would begin to rub off on you after all the time you have spent in my marvelous presence. But alas, I guess refinement and style cannot be taught. After all, in order for something to rub off, there needs to be something there that can receive it. And you, my dear Shadow of Death, clearly have no class at all.”
“That was a very longwinded way of saying,fuck off,” Alistair comments with a chuckle.
“My point exactly.” Orion bestows a kingly smirk on us all while motioning towards himself with a flourish. “As I said, style and class.”
Both Draven and Alistair roll their eyes, but amusement tugs at their lips. However, before Draven can retort, the door a little behind the throne is opened.
A hush spreads through the massive throne room as everyone quiets down and turns towards the dais.
