“After everything I’ve given you,” Mama said. “Everything I sacrificed. And for what? For you to do the same stupid thing over and over again.”
I met Sera’s gaze, and a silent understanding passed between us. It was time to end this. Sera transformed back into the white wolf. As soon as her paws hit the ground, she tackled Mama to the ground. Growling in her face. Natalia had moved out of the way just in time. She gave me a nod of approval as I dropped to my knees beside my mother and stared into her cold, emotionless eyes.
“Choke on your hate.” I slid the dagger across her throat and opened it. Putrid black liquid and warm red blood spilled out. There was a moment when she looked stunned. As if she hadn’t truly believed I would do it. As if she had convinced herself, even now, that she was still in control.
I watched the light leave her eyes. I watched her take her last breath. And I felt nothing. No remorse. No grief. Nothing except relief that it was done.
I hugged Sera’s furry neck, breathing in her scent. For the first time in our lives, we were truly free.
Chapter 44
Avènement
BASTIEN
Claire didn’t need to swing a sword to be brave. She didn’t need to master spells or command her powers completely. Her courage wasn’t for battlefield glory or for the welcome waiting at home.
She was courageous for me, for us, for everyone we cared for. Her quiet strength ignited courage in others. Because of Claire, the Prideaux coven escaped a fanatic’s rule. The Unified Territories found peace. And her sister was finally able to live the life she wanted.
“Bastien, look,” Natalia said, nudging me with the butt of her sword.
A horde of villagers was standing just outside the fort. Women and children. Elderly men. Young ladies and lads. None of them bore blades or crossbows. Just a look of bewilderment.
Natalia glanced at me. "Well?"
Itossed the question back to her. “What do you think we should do?”
She grunted. “Ask them what they want.”
“A fine idea.” She waited for me, but I nudged her with the butt of my blade. “Go on, Commander. Go make your inquiries.”
Natalia gave me a wary look, sheathing her weapon before striding over to the growing crowd of villagers. Meanwhile, I paced along the fort’s ramparts, scanning for threats and thinking about the weres. Tyson jogged over, his hands braced on his hips as he caught his breath. “Well, this went way better than I anticipated it would.”
I managed a reluctant smile. "You? A pessimist?"
"Not at all!" Tyson protested. His grin faded. "But after Claire was taken and you went all dead-eyed, I worried I'd carry both your bodies home."
I didn’t get a chance to thank Tyson for everything he’d done because at that moment, the mass of villagers gathered outside the fort began moving inside under escort. Natalia, signaling to the holding area, gestured toward where the half-transformed weres were kept, and the villagers rushed over, hugging and kissing them despite the ropes on their wrists. I realized then these weres must be relatives.
Natalia joined Tyson and me. “Apparently, Shayla didn’t allow them to see each other after she changed them. It was part of her recruiting tactic. You didn’t know what was really happening.”
Some were kneeling over dead bodies, sobbing over them. Claire and those who had gravitated toward her—Okeri, Alec, Sera, and Tansy—wandered over to us wearing horrified looks.
“The extent of this…” Claire choked out, tears brimming but refusing to fall, heartbreak vivid on her face.
“When Mama talked about a world whereWitches of the Light were safe,” Sera added, “I never thought it would look like this.”
Natalia, who had a great dislike of Claire’s sister after she’d slapped her, gave an appreciative nod. “Shayla and your mother were kindred spirits. Unfortunately for them.”
“When this is done,” Lady Okeri said. “We’re all going to need a stiff drink.”
Tansy and Sera both said, “Cheers to that.”
Tyson agreed. “When we get back to Château Rose…” he stopped, realizing I was glaring at him, and reconsidered, “you are free to do as you wish.”
Beyond where we stood, a woman dropped to her knees in the mud and gathered a body into her lap—one of the fallen weres—rocking back and forth, her howl of grief tore through the yard.
As her cries echoed, the wind moved through the broken beams of the fort. Smoke from cook fires hung in the air. Somewhere in the crowd, a child was crying.
