Chapter 22
twenty-two
The canopy over our heads let through enough sunlight so that we could see the color red clearly, especially when there was so little color around us.
The sorcerers wore either black or grey, and the werewolves wore mostly brown.
So did I—the cloak that covered me completely was a rich brown, just like the soil underneath my feet.
But the cloak he wore was a deep red—exactly like the color of blood.
Every inch of me vibrated with raw power even before he pushed down his hood and revealed to me his face.
Lyall was wearing a crown on his head that was just as golden as his hair.
Two things happened at once. The two werewolves who’d come forward howled at the sky before their clothes tore apart and their skins burst out in fur, their limbs rearranged themselves until they became fully grown wolves.
And Lyall smiled.
My mind was completely blank. All I knew was the magic that coursed through my veins violently, and it hurt like I had blades underneath my skin, making a mess out of my insides. Teeth gritted, I didn’t let myself even blink for fear I’d lose sight of him for a second.
Lyall was really there in the forest, possibly thirty feet away from us still, a white horse behind him—and a shitload of gold-armored soldiers at his sides.
Just when I thought the worst was over. Just when I thought we would be safe. Just when I believed, really believed for a moment, that I would make it to Rune in one piece.
“Nilah,” Maera whispered, and she, too, was terrified. She was no longer trying to hide it.
The wolves in front of us, so big they looked like beasts instead of animals, growled harder, and the man and woman at our sides were waiting still. Waiting for a sign from Maera before they shifted.
“Don’t attack,” I choked against my every instinct because I remembered the last time I saw Lyall. The last time I was close to him. How he’d laughed when he thought he was witnessing Rune stabbing me through the heart.
He’d fucking laughed like all his wishes had come true—after weeks of trying to fool me, trying to manipulate me into believing he was a good guy. That he actually cared about me, had feelings for me. Good feelings.
“There’s too many of them. Possibly over a hundred soldiers,” said Maera, and fucking hell, it was like she’d run a knife right behind my knees. That I didn’t fall on my face was beyond me, but I was still standing.
“There will be no fight here today,” I whispered and forced myself to get my thoughts under control.
This was happening. It was done now. Lyall had somehow found me, and he was here. I only had one decision to make right now—and that was to not die here today. Not at the hands of anyone.
And so, I made it.
“I will go talk to him, Maera,” I said despite my screaming instincts. To me, that was the only way.
“We’ll go together,” she said, but I shook my head.
“No. You can stay behind me. I’ll talk to him alone.” Because I knew that alpha or no alpha, Lyall had a crown on his head now, and he wouldn’t care about Maera or about the werewolves. In fact, he might attack them out of arrogance, just to show off in front of his soldiers and the sorcerers.
I was not going to let that happen.
“Nilah,” Maera said my name again, this time a warning.
I looked at her only for a moment. “I will be okay. Just stay alert.”
It was an empty promise, one I didn’t know whether I was going to be able to keep. It was Lyall, after all. I knew enough to know to expect anything from him. Anything at all.
Then I was walking.
It all felt like a dream to me still. After all I’d seen, all I’d been through, I still had trouble believing my own eyes when things turned as chaotic as they did now.
A forest in Mysthaven, surrounded by sorcerers who thought I was a queen, who watched us curiously, waited to witness the show of their lives.
And Lyall with his soldiers, coming closer, slowly, his head up and his crown on full display, his smile that of a fucking snake.
Maera and the other werewolves were behind me. I felt them, heard their every step, every growl of those wolves.
Then Lyall was just there, almost within my reach, and I within his. His soldiers were farther away from him than they’d looked from a distance, but they could still get to me in no time.
No more fear. My hands had been fisted, and I released them. My shoulders had been stiff, but I straightened them back. It’s as good as over now, isn't it? We were here, and I’d already decided that I wasn’t going to die.
Laughter.
The wood fell silent, and the sound of his laughter echoed in all our ears.
No birds flew off branches. Nobody moved a single inch.
“Pardon me, Nilah, please. I just can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that we’re both here now, like this! And at the same time, I can’t help but think of how it all began.”
His voice.
It was familiar and it was vile and I wanted to close my ears against it but didn’t.
“You can drop the good-guy act, Lyall. I know who you really are now, remember?” I said despite my better judgment, but my anger was there, and at least my voice didn’t shake. Not a single bit.
“It’s Your Highness to you, mortal.” With a wicked grin, he raised a hand slowly and tapped a finger to the ruby etched into the front of his crown. “I’m a king now, as you can see.”
I shook my head. “You’ll always be an insecure little boy to me.”
I bit my tongue. Screamed at myself in my head. I wasn’t trying to make him attack me, damn it! I was trying to talk to him!
Damn it, Nilah, the voices in my head chided me. I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, reminded myself of all the soldiers who could hurt us without Lyall even having to lift a finger. It was just me and the werewolves—we weren’t enough. I didn’t want to spill more blood.
“Listen, Lyall—”
“Oh, I hear you just fine. It’s you who needs to listen to me,” he cut me off and took a step forward.
Growls behind me—and the sound of metal sliding against metal behind him. His soldiers were reaching for their weapons.
“You have no place in Verenthia, filthy mortal. Whatever your face looks like, either walk away now, or I will make you.” His voice was low, barely a whisper, but I heard every single word.
Shivers rose on every inch of my body. He meant what he said—said it with all his heart. He would try.
No fear, I told myself, and despite every instinct in my body, I did not move back. “I don’t want to argue with you, Lyall. I want to talk to you like adults.”
His smile stretched wider. “Oh, do you now. I wonder why that is. Maybe this?” Again, he waved at his head—his crown. “Or all these fae awaiting my command? You’re not afraid now, are you, Nilah?” Another step closer.
I’m terrified, you fucking prick!
“I am,” I choked. “Just like I was in the Mercove. Right before I knocked you and your little army to the ground for hours.” Because I had, and he seemed to be needing the reminder.
I knew this fear was irrational, and I pushed it down because that had actually happened. I’d knocked down an entire forest full of soldiers in the Mercove, and I would do the same again. I had the magic. I had more control of it now than I did then.
Lyall remembered.
His smile vanished and I could hear his teeth cracking as he clenched his jaws. Before he could speak again, I said, “Your mother set a curse in motion when she killed your father, Lyall.”
To say that my words shocked him would be an understatement. I saw it in his eyes, in the way his pupils dilated, in the way the warmth of the magic that was coming off him intensified just for a moment when he lost control. He didn’t lose control of his facial expression, though.
“How in the realm would you know that, pray tell, dearest Nilah?”
Fuck, I hated the way he spoke to me.
And, of course, he knew. It didn’t surprise me—his mother would have told him the truth.
“The Council of the Vale told me,” I said, and his eyes flicked behind me—possibly at Maera and the werewolves.
“Well, go on then,” he forced himself to say. “What exactly did a council of half-animals tell you?”
More growls from behind but thankfully Maera said nothing. They only watched, and so did the sorcerers. It felt like the eyes of the entire world were on me right now.
“The Council told me what happens if there is no legitimate heir to a fae throne in Verenthia, Lyall. They told me about the Curse of Rot that your mother started.”
His blond brows shot up—and I’d forgotten how utterly perfect every line of his face was. Every strand of his hair—and now that crown, too. I’d forgotten how much it bothered me to be looking at him, how…unnatural he seemed. Too beautiful. Too perfect.
“Curse of Rot? You’re going to have to do better than that, Nilah. Don’t waste my time,” he said, and this time I was the shocked one.
“Lyall, I’m not lying.” I moved forward a little bit on instinct, and only realized it when it was too late.
“Your mother was not a legitimate heir to the Seelie throne when she married your father, and when she killed him, the only reason the throne allowed her to rule was because she had you in her womb.”
A pause.
“My mother was a legitimate queen the moment she married my father,” he said.
“Yes—and when she killed him, she started the Curse of—”
“There is no Curse of Rot!” he hissed, his whisper so sharp it felt like it cut me physically.
“There is.” I didn’t break eye contact no matter how much it cost me not to back away.
No matter how much he and his ever-growing magic and his bloodshot eyes scared me shitless.
“There is curse and your mother started it. The Ice Queen continued it when she tried to escape the prophecy by making deals with the Midnight King. And when the Unseelie royal family was killed, the curse spread all the way. It’s here now, in Verenthia, whether you believe it or not, Lyall.
I’ve seen it. I’m sure you’ve seen it, too. ”