“I trusted you,” I say. It isn’t an accusation. It’s the truth laid bare. Too raw and shattering for me to move, though something forceful begins to take shape deep from within me.
“That,” he replies, stepping fully into my space, “was your mistake.”
The door explodes inward.
Vale’s boot splinters the wood, the impact echoing like a cannon shot.
“Mira!”
Fenloris moves to me in an instant and raises the knife tightly against my throat. I freeze against the cold metal now biting at my flesh. Vale stops in his tracks as Fenloris moves us away from the window and near the door. Vale moves in concert, keeping a breadth of space between us in the hope Fenloris will not do the unimaginable.
Before Vale can speak to reason with the madman who was once my friend, he does what any caged animal would do. He strikes.
The knife leaves me as I’m swiftly shoved to the ground. Air tears from my chest. My hands burn as I brace against the impact.
In the same breath, Vale surges forward, Fenloris turns—not toward escape, not toward me—but toward the king, blade arcing with desperate, singular intent.
Lightning splits the room, catching the knife mid-arc.
Ace doesn’t hesitate.
He steps between them.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Glass shatters as the storm tears through the chamber. Fenloris charges forward, and Ace steps between him and his intended target.
I scream as rain and wind whip through the room, papers exploding into the air like startled birds.
Blood blooms across Ace’s chest as he falls backward.
Vale catches him before his body can strike the cold stone. The blade clatters away as guards surge in, seizing Fenloris and wrenching him back.
“It should have been you!” Fenloris screams at Vale as they drag him from the room.
Vale looks at me, stunned and searching, Ace crumpled in his arms.
I rush to them, dropping to my knees and pressing my hands to the gaping wound. Blood spills through my fingers, hot and unstoppable.
Tears stream down my face as I watch Ace begin to fade.
“I couldn’t let him…” His voice catches—wet, wrong. “No one wants me as king,” he tries to laugh, but it breaks into a choking sputter of blood.
“No,” I sob. “Stay with me, Ace. Stay with us.”
I look up at Vale, desperate for an answer. He scans me quickly, his gaze catching on the thin cut at my throat before returning to Ace.
“I can’t stop the bleeding,” I cry.
Vale snaps out of his shock and shrugs off his waistcoat, careful not to jostle Ace as he bleeds out in his lap. I take it from him and press the cloth hard against the wound, all my strength focused on keeping Ace here.
Odrin pushes past the remaining guards in the doorway. Though his duty is to king and crown, he rushes to Ace—not because of succession, but because of love.
Vale orders him to fetch the healers. Seeing the king is secure, Odrin moves at once.
I catch Vale fighting back tears, fury still burning beneath the horror. If it had been anyone else— save myself, Soria, or Odrin—Fenloris would already be dead. I know it.
But it was Ace.
