“Should I be worried about you, little sister?” Morrigan laughs—a sound like breaking glass. “You, who I’ve been preparing for since you were born? Every ward in this fortress, every trap, every defense—built specifically to counter your precious white fire. You think you’re walking into a confrontation. You’re walking into a cage.”
“Then let’s find out how strong the bars are.” Tamsin releases my hand and steps forward, white fire beginning to glow around her fists. “Auren.”
I know what she’s about to say before she says it. Have known since we walked through that door. But hearing the words still hits me like a physical blow.
“Go. This part I have to do alone.”
Every instinct screams against it. Leave her here? With this monster who murdered my sister, who destroyed her kingdom, who has been building toward this moment for decades? Walk away and trust that she can handle what’s coming?
I look at Tamsin—really look. At the determination in her amber eyes. At the power coiled beneath her skin, ready to unleash. At the woman who threw herself off a rampart tosave me, who burned through wards that should have been impenetrable, who has proven herself over and over again.
She doesn’t need me to save her. She needs me to trust her.
“I’ll be right outside.” The words scrape against my throat. “If you need me?—”
“I know.” She turns to face me, and for just a moment, the fierce warrior softens into something else. Her hand rises to touch my face—brief, tender, her fire warming my skin. “I know.”
I want to say something. Want to tell her what she’s come to mean to me, what it would do to me if she doesn’t walk out of this room. But the words stick in my throat, frozen by emotional control that chooses now of all moments to fail me.
Instead, I catch her hand before she can pull away. Press my lips to her palm—a gesture that says everything I can’t put into words. Her breath catches. Her fire flares, and mine rises to meet it, frost and flame mingling for just an instant.
“End her.” I release her hand. Step back. Force myself to turn toward the door. “And then come back to me.”
I don’t see her expression as I leave. Don’t let myself look back. If I look back, I won’t be able to leave, and she needs to do this alone. Needs to close this chapter herself.
The door closes behind me.
And I stand in Morrigan’s throne room, surrounded by stolen treasures and burning witch-light, and wait.
The hardest thing I’ve ever done.
NINETEEN
TAMSIN
The door closes behind Auren, and I’m alone with my sister.
His frost lingers on my palm where he kissed it. A reminder. A promise. Something to hold onto in what’s about to come.
The ritual chamber feels smaller now. The focusing crystals pulse with dark light, casting shadows that move wrong across the carved floor. The channels designed for blood gleam with silver inlay, branching out from the central circle like veins leading to a blackened heart. The chains hanging from the ceiling sway slightly, enchanted manacles waiting to bind me—waiting for the moment Morrigan has been building toward since she murdered Lyric Valek in a room just like this one.
I’ve seen drawings of that ritual circle. Auren showed me, once, his voice carefully controlled as he described what he found when he arrived too late. The patterns are identical. My sister didn’t even bother to change them.
And Morrigan stands at the center of it all, her ritual circle blazing with power she’s spent decades accumulating.
“How touching.” Her voice drips with false sweetness. “The ice dragon couldn’t bear to watch. Does he know you’re goingto die here, little sister? Does he know this room was built specifically for you?”
I don’t answer. I’m studying the ritual circle—really studying it, with the witch sight our mother taught us both. The patterns are familiar. Too familiar. This is the same configuration she used on Lyric, refined and expanded over years of obsessive modification.
She built a drain designed for a Fire-Bringer. But I’m not just a Fire-Bringer.
“You were always the special one.” Morrigan begins circling the edge of her ritual space, her dark robes trailing through the carved channels. “Mother’s favorite. Father’s pride. The perfect princess with her perfect gifts.”
“I was seven years old.” My voice comes out steadier than I expected. “I didn’t ask to manifest both bloodlines. I didn’t ask to be born at all.”
“No. You just existed. And your existence stole everything from me.” Her eyes shift from blue to violet, magic churning beneath her skin. “Do you know what it’s like to be overshadowed by your baby sister? To know you were supposed to be queen, supposed to wield the Crown, and have it all stolen by an accident of birth?”
Memories surface unbidden. Morrigan teaching me to braid my hair. Morrigan defending me from a tutor who pushed too hard. Morrigan’s smile before it started looking practiced, before her eyes went cold every time someone mentioned my gifts.
