Something glimmers golden in my peripheral vision. Rosalina.
I’ll win this for her. For the man she believes I am. A man who can save his people. A man worthy of his Blessing.
“Hey, brothers, did you ever think you’d fight a High Prince upon the sands?” I leap into the open.
“An unworthy title for a coward,” Decimus roars, closing in. His shield pushes me back, his sword a relentless barrage of strikes. I parry and dodge, my muscles screaming with exertion, the heat unrelenting, but I refuse to yield. I press forward, exploiting the chinks in Decimus’ defense, until finally, his strength wanes, and his attacks falter.
“No,” I growl back. “To fight in the arena is an honor. It is our way. What’s dishonorable is chopping your brother’s ears off and begging for the Blessing through twisted words.Youare unworthy of being a High Prince.” I point my sword skyward to Kairyn. “What’s twisted is making the people of Summer watch the princes who died defending them in battle fight in your games, while you dine with the servants of those who gave them the true death.”
“Shut it off—” Broken words, Kairyn’s words, the echosphere cutting in and out. “Stop him—”
The crowd roars in response, anger and repulsion evident.
“I will end this for them. I will end this for Summer,” I snarl. It doesn’t matter now if the people hear me. They’ll see what I plan to do.
There’s no hesitation in me now. My brothers appear as nothing more than flickers of light. It’s not Damocles, not Decimus.
I land between them, feet shifting in the sand as they move to attack me on all sides. In the arena’s pulsing heart, amid the ancient pillars and verdant greens, I stand, twin blades glinting with resolve. This was always my world more than theirs. They fought in it; they did their duty. But never did they win the crowd like I did. Never did they find the pure flash of life between strikes of the sword.
As the crowd’s fervor crescendos, I seize the moment. With a deft twist, I disarm my brothers, their swords clattering like forgotten echoes. With each strike, my heart races with the rhythm of their fading breaths.
My swords find their marks with haunting precision. Damocles and Decimus’s eyes widen, hearts pierced by their brother. As I hold their gazes one final time, I wonder if this is how they looked at the end, on that battlefield, as their life ebbed, as they felt the Blessing of Summer float away … Did they think of me?
Think of the brother that abandoned them?
“I’m sorry,” I say, tears flowing down my face. The magic flickers out, their bodies drifting away into motes of dusty light. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. But I promise, I will do whatever it takes to save our people.”
Their forms drift away entirely, and my swords are as clean as when I stepped into the arena. The only blood left on my chest is mine.
The ringing in my ears fades, and the roar of the crowd breaks through. Cheers for me, mixed with something else. Voices rise in protest, cries of anguish mingling with shouts of condemnation as the crowd rails against the cruelty displayed by Emperor Kairyn.
A presence stands before me.
“Whatever it takes,” Rosalina says.
So, she heard me. That explains the tinge of sadness in her voice, the same one writhing through me now.
I will see the Summer Realm freed from this tyranny. Whatever it takes. But we both know what it’ll take for me to reclaim Summer.
My full unbridled magic.
There’s only one woman who can give me that.
And it’s not the one beside me.
CHAPTER 68
Keldarion
“Come on, George. Not much farther.”
I’m not sure if my words are true. The prison at the inner sanctum of the labyrinth could be right around the next corner or on the other side of this damned maze. As certain as George has been at each fork in the road, we could be getting farther and farther away with every step.
And I’m not sure how many more steps George has in him. He still manages that assured grin, but his face is pale, his movements slow. I wrap an arm around his shoulders to keep him steady. Rosalina would beg for us to take a break, but we rested not long ago. We can’t keep stopping.
There isn’t much time left—only three more days before Farron and Caspian break the crystals. If it happens before we’re at the prison, it will all be for nothing. We’re running out of time.
“You’re a good sport, you know that?” George pats my chest.
