Duncan Hinde squinted at me. Then he chuckled, shifting uneasily on his horse. “You do understand you have no hope for survival. I have seen your future and mine. This is the end of the fae, I’m afraid. That includes you, despite your human heritage. Ovalis would not be pleased, but Ovalis has been gone many centuries. What he wanted hardly matters. Not when you threaten the survival of my species.”
“His wishes don’t matter?” I arched a brow. “I was under the impression he left very clear instructions for you and that you have been following them closely.”
“And how would you know that?”
I tapped my head. “I have insight into the visions now, too. And one saw you become a traitor to your own people. Ovalis Hinde wanted to protect Talaven, yes, but he didn’t want to doom the world by doing it. But you didn’t like that very much, did you? Because it meant handing your reign over to someone who would lead your people toward a better future, a better world. A world where fae and humans coexisted in peace. A world where the Talaven king did not use up every last scrap of their resources until nothing was left but dust. Ovalis tried to save his people from not only the gods but from you. He saw you coming, too, you know.”
Duncan barked out a laugh. He swung his gaze from me to Kalen, then back again. “This is ridiculous. None of this is true!”
Kalen sniffed. “Well, I certainly smell a lie, but it’s not coming from us.”
I smiled. “The knife’s edge was a pretty lie. If I had wings tipped in crimson, it meant I’d doom the world. But if they were tipped in sapphire, I’d save you all, yes? That’s not exactly true. I would have defeated the gods either way. But the crimson tips mean I defeat you, too. And so you tried everything to prevent it.”
“I was protecting my people,” he hissed.
“No, you were protecting yourself,” I countered. “You were the one who planned to begin a war with the fae once the gods were defeated. You want their gemstones and their mines. You want their land, which bears fruit you cannot grow in Talaven. And you knew our numbers would be severely depleted after all this. Aesir would be ripe for the taking.” I paused. “But even so, the fae would have put up a fight. They have elite powers, and your soldiers don’t. And they would have retaliated after the first battle, sacking Moonstone. In the end, you would have won, but how many lives would you have lost in your needless war? You know the number. The visions told you.”
Vera, the warrior from earlier, rode closer. She’d been listening.
“What’s this about?” she asked. “This isn’t true, is it, Duncan?”
“Return to the army, Vera,” he said sharply. “I didn’t call you forward.”
She looked affronted. “I see.”
Before she could turn her horse around, I raised my voice so she could clearly hear my next words. “Have things been going differently than you thought they would, King Duncan Hinde? Perhaps a beast unexpectedly attacked your ships.”
The king narrowed his eyes.
I continued, “Ovalis has been steering you on a path without you knowing it. He knew what you’d do, so he put certain assurances in place. Tricky of him, wasn’t it?”
“You speak as though I got all my information from Ovalis’s journals. I have my own visions, too. I don’t know why things have changed or how this is happening, but it must be something to do withyou. Because I saw your death today. With my own visions and my own eyes.”
“Except they weren’t your eyes, were they, Duncan? At least, not most of the time. You used your Druids to see the visions for you.” Druid Balfor strode through the castle gates and joined us on the road. He’d explained everything only moments ago. The Druids had been working with Ovalis Hinde’s journals for centuries. They’d seen what Duncan would one day try, and they had pretended to help him, following the ancient path they’d all decided upon. Balfor had always been against the gods. He and the other Druids worshipped the essences ofthisworld and saw the others as invaders who didn’t belong. Those symbols in the cave and at the falls were the symbols of those essences, painted there centuries ago by the Druids of old.
As much as Balfor had wanted to explain everything to me earlier, he couldn’t have. Not without risking another fork in the path. I had to make these choices on my own.
And this moment right here needed to happen.
Duncan Hinde paled and jerked the reins of his horse. “What is this? Don’t tell me you’ve sided with them, Balfor. Tessa Baran is one of the gods now. She wants to steal my kingdom.”
“Iwilltake your kingdom,” I said. “But I don’t have to steal it to do so. I’m the only heir of your ancient king, Ovalis Hinde. Talaven belongs to me.”
He scoffed. “Iam the heir. Ovalis might be your ancestor, but he is mine, too. Through hishumanlineage, not that of the gods. And I will not let you steal it from me.”
I looked at Vera. She hadn’t returned to the army, despite her king’s orders. Her eyes shifted to Balfor, who nodded solemnly. Then her gaze moved on to the king.
“Did you lie to me, Duncan? You’ve had another aim all this time?” she asked quietly.
He jerked sideways, only now noticing she was still there. He let out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, all right? But I did it to protect us fromher. She has the gods inside her now. All seven. And she will flatten this world.”
“And you saw her using her great power against us?” she asked.
His lips thinned. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. He’d never seen any of that.
“You put your reign above your own people. Many of us have died for you. And many more would have died if you got your way.” Without another word, Vera swung the axe. The blade cut through flesh and bone, and the King of Talaven’s head fell to the ground. His body slid sideways on his horse. The sound of it hitting the mud was the only noise heard for miles.
Fifty-Three
