Chapter Forty-Six #2
None of them so much as twitched as I passed. They only watched me stumble through the gate like I didn’t belong. Like I was already late.
Cold crawled up my spine. Where was everyone?
My gaze flicked back only once. Alma lay crumpled on the ice like a discarded story. Rhosyn was on the near side of the river now, moving with relentless purpose. Another form, Halla, charged for her.
With a quick prayer of thanks to Selraya, I swallowed and forced my legs forward into the fortress.
The courtyard beyond the gate was empty too. Wind slid through with a thin, mournful sound. The great stairway that climbed toward the heart of Frostcrag rose ahead, black and steep, leading up to the throne room.
Every instinct screamed that this was wrong.
This was not how a Blood Hunt ended.
A thought tried to rise, sharp and painful. Everest. Where was he?
Surely, he would have turned back when the moon released its hold. Surely, he wasn’t still out there in the snow, half-feral, bleeding, searching—
I shoved the thought down like it could burn me.
I didn’t have the luxury of longing, not right now. I had a throne to claim. It was the reason why I called for the Hunt in the first place. Not to be chosen by some powerful king or vengeful goddess. And certainly not to simply be a prize.
I invoked this bloody trial to earn the Moon Crown. To stand as queen in my own right and to claim my Three Edicts and carve Hollowcrest into something no court could dismiss with a sneer ever again.
Limping toward the steps, I dragged in a breath, vision tunneling. The fortress was too quiet. Even the wind sounded muted, like Frostcrag held its breath.
As I climbed, my mind betrayed me with images anyway.
Savage on his throne.
Everest holding me in the cave.
Savage looking at me not like a prize, but like a storm he had measured and decided to meet head-on.
What would it be like… to be his queen?
Not his consort or bride prize. His equal.
The thought made my pulse stutter. My fingers tightened around the crescent. “Focus,” I whispered to myself.
One step.
Another.
At the top of the stairs, I reached a heavy door carved with Wolvryn sigils and crescent moons. The entrance to the throne hall. I placed my palm against the thick timber, and I could practically feel Savage on the other side.
It was the strangest and most unexpected sensation.
Behind me, boots pounded on stone. I spun around.
Rhosyn appeared, chest heaving, eyes wild with triumph and bloodlust. Her blade, stained in crimson, gleamed in the thin dawn light creeping into the fortress.
“You think you can crawl your way into a crown?” she snarled.
My knees nearly gave as I shifted my stance, but I ignored them. “I’ll claim it any way I have to.”
“Stubborn little Hollow who just won’t die.”
“Are you going to try to kill me now, like you killed Myra?” I spat out the words.
Rhosyn’s smile widened. “And Lune and Kel and possibly Halla, too soon to tell with that one. I’d kill every last one of you if it meant I didn’t go home empty-handed.”
She charged, knife in hand.
I twisted aside and slammed my crescent into her forearm. The impact jarred my wrist. Rhosyn hissed, but she didn’t slow. She swung again, forcing me back against the door.
The wood vibrated behind me with each hit.
Rhosyn pressed, trying to drive me away from the entrance. She was stronger than I was so close to the full moon, fueled by rage and desperation. Every strike was a demand.
Give up.
Fail.
Let me pass.
My arms shook, and my breath came in ragged bursts. But I didn’t stop.
Three Edicts.
Ma’s fading eyes.
Suri’s small hands.
Hollowcrests tortured and banished.
I didn’t come this far to die on the king’s doorstep, gods’ damn it.
Rhosyn’s blade flashed for my throat. I ducked and shoved her hard with my shoulder. The move wasn’t skilled, it was all desperate force.
She stumbled one step, surprise flickering across her face, and it was all I needed.
I grabbed the iron handle with my free hand and hauled. The heavy door groaned open.
Rhosyn recovered instantly, snarling as she lunged for me again, but I threw myself through the gap.
The hall beyond was dim, lit by cold torchlight and the thin gold of dawn seeping through high windows. And at the far end, on a raised dais, sat the Savage King.
Mask on. Fur cloak draped over his shoulders like a living shadow. He was as immoveable as the mountain the fortress had been built upon. Waiting.
My heart did a startling little leap at the sight of him, at his overwhelming presence. It felt like only hours and an entire lifetime since I’d seen him last.
Rhosyn’s snarl echoed behind me, her footsteps pounding closer.
My lungs seized.
She shoved past me, breath hot at my ear as she raced by. I didn’t think. I moved, barreling forward, pain and exhaustion forgotten beneath the surge of one final need. My boots slapped stone, arms pumping like mad.
She was only a step ahead of me now. No! Lengthening my stride in one last, brutal burst of will, I surged past her.
And hit the stairs of the dais first.
Lunging forward, my hand slapped the foot of the throne.
A warm hand wrapped around my icy one.
My body dragged itself up with the help of the king's unyielding hold, piercing silver eyes staring back at me.
I reached him.
First.
I won.