“I do!”
His heel crunches the bones in my hand; I scream.
“Please—”
“Please, what?”
“Please, stop,” Lila pleads.
“What will you do to make me stop?”
We both glance up at him. He will make her beg for it. He will make her give, as I have given, and she will do it willingly, even if just to make my pain stop. I cannot have that. Lila has the protection of House Illusion and House Healing now. She is a free faerie, all of her debts paid for, and she has friends.
“I vowed to you last night,” I say. My friend sucks in a breath. “You have no need of her.”
“Who are you to make demands of me?” The boot presses deeper into my fingers, the bones threatening to break. I catch his golden gaze with mine.
“The mother of monarchs.”
Lila gasps, looking at me. “What are you saying?”
My free hand covers hers, prying it away from his boot.
“I love you, too,” I whisper. “Not even in death will a king come between us.”
“Avery?”
I shove the moth ring onto her finger. I think of safe harbor, of silver hair. I stretch my genius as far as it will go. I think of where I would’ve brought Lila if I had the power to do so in the library. I pray that Kassandra feels her coming.
Lila’s mouth drops open. “Wait—”
Then she disappears, lacing into the plane.
The king roars, and I close my eyes, praying she will land safely.
Chapter Fifty-seven
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” Maxianscreams. He grabs me by the shirt collar and yanks me up, my legs flailing. “WHY WOULD YOU—”
“Because you would not!” I yell back.
He slaps me, hard, and I realize this is him being good. Greater violence lurks in that mind and body, and the threat of it is what trapped me like a tree as a door, used against my will. But even when I did not have the strength to call out for help, it didn’t matter. My friends found me anyway.
“Why won’t you do as you’re told?” He shakes me, my head rattling.
Because I have taken down one High Fae, allied with another. Because I have loved their lovers and killed halfling guards. I will fight to the end, until Maxian bloodies his hands on the bones of my back, until I am nothing, and even then, I will not beg for forgiveness. I will not submit. Ever. The last thing the king will see from me is the hatred he could never buy, bargain, or beat from my eyes.
As he yanks me up, screaming in my face, I do not treat him like a king, not even like a halfling.
I fight Maxian like a faerie.
I spit in his eye. He rears back, recoiling. I swing my knee up between his legs. We go down. I scrabble away, kicking him inhis nose. It crunches. The plane shakes with his power, tumbling around me like a rockslide. His Reign power will take me soon.
I press my palms into Lucan’s Tree, my genius sparking once more as it connects to the veins of power, the root system that spreads under the entire palace of Versara. My mind splinters into a million beings, feeding into the Illusion courtyards, the Healing gardens, each plant and plot that has been meticulously sculpted, pruned back, forced into unnatural shapes and confined sizes, all screaming to be free.
Where should I go?I ask.
Where we are,the voices reply.
