Chapter 42
Kieran
Two nights ago
Fuck.
It’s been too long since I last saw Cassandra, and I’m experiencing what is most likely the equivalent of drug withdrawal humans face. My chest is heavy, and I feel out of breath, even though I have barely moved much in almost two weeks.
I wish I could go to her, but I can’t.
This fucking curse is killing me.
And I have something else I need to sort out first—something to end this chaos at the Court.
Cass is safe, and that’s all that matters.
I’d rather be tortured by this unyielding yearning than have her here when we’re about to unleash hell on the rebels, though my heart breaks at the thought of her waking up in the human world against her will, not knowing what’s happening to the rest of us.
She’s going to kick my ass to the fucking moon when she’s back, and there will be eternity for her to do that.
I have to make sure there’ll be eternity for us.
Because nothing else matters if we can’t be together.
Truth is, I’ve been fully recovered from the poison for a few days, but Atticus doesn’t know that. He’d been putting iron dust in my medicine every bloody day to keep me weak and away from my mate—from everything he planned to take.
Or so he thought.
Whilst his rebellion group infiltrated the Court, my people had also been working in the shadows, tracking their every move, marking them in dark corners.
We made him think some of the Council members were loyal to him when they were all feeding intel back to me, Gideon, and Virgil—intel Atticus’s big mouth stupidly bragged about because he thought he’d gotten his filthy claws on the throne.
My patience runs thin as a cobweb waiting in his grave.
Today, this ends.
“It’s time,” Virgil quietly says as I put on my coat. “Atticus is occupied with Florence. We’ve got to go now.”
I nod, adjusting the collar of my coat. Apparently, I’ve made two bad judgements in the past decades. One being appointing Atticus as the Court’s acting High Lord. The other is placing too much trust in Florence to supply us weapons—the very ones she’s using to point at my throat.
She’s always been a quiet one. She minded her own business, never complained, and did her job splendidly.
The only thing that’s wrong with her is that she’s fucking Atticus.
And he probably smooth talked, bedroom-eyed talked, hands-touching talked her into joining his sacred little crew.
Because what do you think “Atticus is occupied with Florence” means?
It’s not the first time someone has lost a war because of a female.
And it won’t be the last.
“You sure about this?” Gideon asks me for the tenth time, even though we’ve gone over the plans about five times already.
I don’t know whether to thank the stars that despite being my High Commander, his duty as my best friend comes first, or curse them because he’s such a pain in the ass sometimes.
But mostly, I’m just thankful for Gideon.
“Why? Would you like to do it for me instead?”
Gideon scoffs, holding up both hands like he’s saying, “Never in a million years.”
Exactly.
Because who wants to carry the weight of the entire Court on their shoulders?
Certainly not me.
But I’ll take that throne in a heartbeat if it means keeping Cass and the people I care about safe.
And maybe it has been a long time coming.
Maybe it’s exactly what this Court needs.
A new day after centuries of chaos.
A king to put things into the right order.
“Let’s go,” I murmur as we step outside.
A cold breeze blasts at me like a welcome-back kiss to remind me I’m not dead, and this next chapter is about to be a merciless one.
It’s been so long since I’ve stepped foot outside my own house.
It’s past midnight, and the cold chills my bones.
Stars flicker overhead, some shooting across the midnight sky.
And I will admit, it’s incredible to be blessed with magic—but I rarely ever use it to keep warm.
Mainly because being cold reminds me I’m still alive and not entirely untouched.
My arrogance needs to be squeezed back into a Fae-sized bottle, because I won’t lie …
in the early decades of my life, there were times when my attitude and blazing hormones drove me to do things I could only bury my face in my hands in response to, if someone brought them up today.
Cass would never fall for that little shithead, let’s put it that way.
My point is, no one is invincible.
I’m lucky to be standing here today, even after all this—the banishment from the stars, the riots, iron dust poison, to name a few—and I should never ever take this for granted.
It’s time to right the wrongs.
We vanish to the River of Vows, where the rest of the Council members await with our High Priestess, Odenne. Felix is already seated, a scroll and a pen resting on his lap, waiting to record my next suffering like this is his idea of a Solstice morning.
Sometimes, I ask myself what I created his bloody position for. The male truly does his job like his life depends on it.
“You look nice,” Aurora mutters as I stalk closer, her green eyes lowering to the ground. I have always thought she belongs amongst one of those shimmering stars in the night sky, but for the past week, that fierce light in her eyes has seemed to dull—for obvious reasons.
We both have our differences and could fight till we draw blood.
But I do care for her. I loved her for a decade, and although that love has turned into a bond between two friends, I still have that protective instinct in me. My chest floods with that familiar ache I can never deny when anything causes her pain. And that thing, unfortunately, includes me.
“Can’t be crowned King without looking sharp now, can I?” I joke, hoping to lighten everyone’s moods, but Aurora just exhales softly.
She finally meets my eyes again. There’s something unreadable in her expression. Aurora has never been one to hesitate—she says exactly what’s on her mind. But tonight, she opens her mouth and closes it again.
Then she finally manages, “You’re doing all this for her—the things you never wanted to do for me.”
I knew that was coming.
It’s probably best we get that out of the way now.
I slide both hands in my pockets, my ring cold on my finger. For a moment, I look up at the night sky, exhaling slowly and letting memories of the life we shared together rise again.
It feels like a lifetime ago.
There were good times and equally bad times.
I can’t deny we were happy once—but that’s long gone now.
We just … weren’t right for each other, simple as that.
“Let’s not go there, Aurora,” I whisper, glancing at the others who have started to take their seats in this small chapel hidden just a few minutes’ walk from the bridge Cass and I got fake married. “I’m sorry, all right?”
It’s all I can say, really.
She simply exhales and walks to take a seat amongst the others quietly.
Odenne welcomes me to the dais with a bow that I return. I draw a deep breath before we begin. I have been dreading this moment for Gods know how long. But now that it’s here … it doesn’t feel as horrible as I thought it would be.
There’s only one thing in my head as she swears me in as the King of the Fallen—Cassandra.
I recite every single word of the vow, loud and clear, and drink every last drop of the Fae wine she offers as tradition demands.
There’s no crown on my head—not yet.
But I can feel it in my bones—something this sacred ritual and the River of Stars bless my power with.
And then we wait.
We wait all night, taking our time as I claw back into bed, acting an ill male, so that Atticus leaves in the morning with another victorious smirk we’re about to wipe off that face.
It’s the day of the final trial. We know exactly how the rebels will let their guard down, thinking their friends will be hunting down the humans for fun—not realising they are about to be hunted, too.
We gather again in the Council Hall as soon as Atticus is gone.
Aurora is playing her part, the hostess of the trials once again, whilst Daphne glamours a group of trusted Fae to take our place, showing our faces from afar—far enough for Atticus to notice, but not close enough for him to say hi and catch us.
“Any pep-talk before we go to war?” Skylar asks, arms crossed, and weapons drawn. “Your Majesty?”
“Mother of the stars.” I wince. “Never call me that again will be pep-talk number one.” Unless your name is Cassandra Thorne and we are in bed.
“Great pep-talk so far.” Virgil hums low in his throat. “My shadowborn assassins marked some known rebellion members last night. They won’t know it, but we’ll see the marks.”
Unlike Felix, I know I recruited Virgil for a reason …
but fuck me, the army he raises scares the shit out of me sometimes.
These shadowborn assassins are practically invisible, existing like silhouettes under moonlight.
They can fight if commanded by the right person—and Virgil happens to be that person.
Thank fuck he wasn’t the rat, because we would have all been in deep shit by now.
“My second pep-talk would be not to piss him off.” I tilt my head to Virgil, who just grins. “And don’t die.”
“I’ll try,” Gideon drawls, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
I let out a chuckle, low and anxious, taking in all the faces around me. The group of people who annoy the living hell out of me ninety percent of the time—but that’s exactly how siblings and families treat each other.
We exchange one last glance. And one by one, we vanish to our agreed locations where the rest of our army waits in groups.
Only Gideon and I stick together. We walk right out the Council Hall doors, joining our group of soldiers and quietly taking down anyone passing by with an “X” marked on their chest, shouting the body counts between each other like it’s a competition.
I cut, and slash, and kick, and punch.
I don’t stop.
Every body I drop is another step closer to Cass.
But it doesn’t take long for someone to alert the Fae gathered near the forest about us—and then all hell breaks loose.
Fire. Shattered Glass. Utter chaos from all directions.
I swap between helping Gideon and vanishing to see if I can locate Atticus anywhere, but he’s nowhere to be found.
Then again, how do you find someone when you both can vanish into thin air?
So, I come back and do what I can for now.
I wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand, blood stained on my clothes—others’, not mine—as a small army of Fae charges at us from the left, some marked by the shadowborn assassins. Gideon sees them too, and he’s about to open his mouth—
But I curl my fist, reaching for that power resting in me, then unleash it.
I drag my fist down, and they all slip like the floor is made of oil. I clench the fist, crushing their bones into pieces without them so much as raising a finger our way.
“Oh, great!” Gideon shouts, throwing one hand in the air. “Take all the fun, why don’t you?”
I shrug.
It’s messy when we all fight with magic. Every one of us has unique abilities, and we would be here for weeks trying to play tricks on each other—not that we don’t use our magic at all. But we do take pleasure in the art of stabbing and making our opponents bleed.
A low-life jerk cuts me in the shoulder when I’m not looking. I groan, but before I can return the favour with the tip of my blade, someone plunges a gleaming dagger into the back of his neck, cutting clean through the front before the dagger is drawn back, precise and beautiful.
The body drops, making a loud thud on the marble floor, revealing Aurora behind him.
Her face is grim, brows drawn tight.
I know that look.
“What is it?” I don’t take my eyes off her, my voice tight.
“Atticus knows we’re here.”
“And?” I ask again, louder this time, hand blasting magic at anyone trying to get close, because something in her face tells me I should be listening to this very carefully.
“It’s Cassandra.” She swallows. “Atticus just dropped her into the trial.”
One single name makes my heart leap out of my chest. Blood boils in my face, slowly spreading to every part of my body.
The next stupid soul who tries to launch themselves at me disintegrates into dust before they can take their next step, scattering in the grey air with the rising smoke all around us.
“Go.” Aurora says one word, already knowing my head is elsewhere. “We’ve got this.”
And then I vanish, cursing Atticus’s name and vowing to shred him into pieces when I see his fucking smug face.
He’s dead.
He’s fucking dead.