Wyndfall bowed his head and granted it while Gilen paced uneasily behind me. The bear seemed content to stay with us, making no sound of protest.
I released my father, the corrupted king, sensing a sliver of darkness settle beneath my ribs. In that moment, the final lesson of ruling became clear: even those who dream of ruling with love and a gentle hand must make choices that will haunt them. The crown did not fall onto my head. It wascarved there, in the blood of my father, that would forever stain my hands.
Now I was queen, and I had a kingdom to help save.
“Alright, I’m ready,” I said in a balanced voice. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Castor Aegaeon
I gave Shaw a firm nod before glancing over his shoulder toward a figure charging through the trees. My chest sagged with relief, and I felt like I could finally take a breath.
Nyssa ran to me, skirt torn, hair matted with sweat and ash. Her hands were already reaching out to me before her feet stopped moving, shaking as she searched every part of me, looking for injuries.
“You’re alright?” she signed, eyes wide.
Gods, the fear I could sense through our bond was overwhelming.
“I’m alright,” I said, cupping her cheek.
She narrowed her eyes. “Liar,” she signed.
Her palms pressed to my cheeks, eyes scanning my face, my chest, my hands, every inch of me. Fear, relief, love. Every emotion radiated from her, as if it were my own, so fierce it nearly dropped me to my knees.
She leaned into me, and for a precious second, I was solely hers once more. Then, she slipped a small vial of red liquid into my hands.
I sighed heavily. “Thank you, Nyssa. But there are otherswho—”
She shook her head. “Take it.Please. For me?”
Unable to deny her plea, I bit the cork open and drank. Heat flooded through my center, my magic flaring to life inside my chest, flowing through my limbs. I inhaled a deep breath, welcoming the feeling of my strength returning.
I hadn’t realized I’d used so much of my magic.
“Hey,” I whispered, pulling her closer. “It’s alright.”
Her lips parted in a silent exhale, shaking with all the words she couldn’t speak.
I bent to kiss her, and gods above, I needed this—needed to feel her and remind myself there was something good. Something worth fighting for. She kissed me back, fingers curling in my hair. The desperate press of lips said everything her voice could not.
But curse the gods, they never gave us enough time.
Shaw’s voice cut through the trees, harsh and urgent. “Castor! The shifters can’t hold the front line. Magnus is recalling our main forces to the cover of the trees. We’re losing too many. If we don’t reinforce them now—”
“We die,” I said, pulling back from my mate and stealing one more second of hope with the taste of her on my lips.
Daxton and Skylar were gone. Despite the other humans now fighting with us, our numbers were thinning. Our magic was waning. And the enemy was fuckinggrowing.
I looked around our circle. I noted Zola’s tense posture, Shaw’s clenched jaw, the shifters limping and bleeding as they staggered between human and animal forms. The High Fae drained of energy, the humans patching armor with trembling hands.
The entire camp stilled as I glanced around, and I realized… they were all looking at me.
I wasn’t the high king or war general. But here, on the edge of our destruction, they needed me to besomething.
“Listen!” I shouted, stepping forward. “Dax and Sky will return. I believe it, and you must too. We keep fighting until they do. We do not break. We do not give up. Valdor is our home, and we will not lose it!”
The chatter of soldiers rallying to my words filled the space. High Fae warriors stood tall, shifters gathered their magic, and the humans—much to my surprise—swallowed their fear.
