Chapter 42 #2
His gaze sharpened further. “Because I heard rumors about that too. A loss of control. A fire so brutal it burned friend and foe alike.”
“I controlled it,” I said.
“Aurelia,” he warned. “Do not lie to me.”
“I lost control at the end,” I admitted. “The magic… it was too much. Too many lives. Too much power. It burned through me, and I couldn’t shut it off.” I met his eyes. “I nearly brought the mountain down on us.”
He blew out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “Well, that’s… encouraging.”
“It won’t happen again,” I said.
“You don’t know that.”
“I won’t let it happen again,” I said, heat flashing in my chest. “I know the cost now. I know what it feels like when I’m close to losing control, and I know when to stop.”
“And if you misjudge?” he pushed. “If you lose control in my court, in my home, with my people standing there?”
“Then Slade gets everyone out,” I said sharply. “He’s already promised. Once the fighting starts, he’ll shadow-walk as many as he can away from the line of fire. I don’t suppose the wards will prevent magic from leaving, will it?”
He shook his head.
“Good. Thorne will shield me from her first strike. I’ll hit her as hard as I can, and if it goes sideways, we retreat.”
“We run,” he translated.
“Yes.”
Silence settled between us, thick and tense.
“You really think you can win?” he said at last. “Even knowing what she took from the Ice Throne. Even knowing what she did to your court.”
“I think,” I said, “that if anyone has a chance, it’s us. I’m the one the gods chose to stop her. I’m the one she failed to curse. And you’re the one she keeps underestimating.”
“And if you’re not ready?” he asked, voice gone softer. “If your power eats you alive before you ever get close enough to touch her?”
“Then I die trying,” I said simply. “Just like you were going to die slowly, in her bed or on your throne, while she hollowed you out and used your crown to legitimize her rule. At least, this way, we get to bloody her first.”
He stared at me, all traces of humor gone. “I never wanted you to die,” he said quietly.
“I know,” I said. “You just wanted me safely out of the way.”
His mouth tugged. “I wanted you safe. Full stop. Out of the worst of it. Away from the battlefield. Away from her. And him.”
“By caging me,” I said.
“To protect you,” he insisted.
“You always wanted to hide me,” I said, the realization settling like a stone. “Tucked away somewhere pretty where you could feel good about saving me while the rest of the realm fought for their own freedom.”
His expression flickered. “Is that what you think?”
“It’s what you showed me,” I said. “Here. In Rosewood. In every conversation where you told me you wished I would just let someone else fix this.”
“Because I didn’t want you to die for a court that didn’t deserve you,” he snapped. Then softer, “I still don’t.”
“That’s the difference between you,” I said quietly. “You think safety is the same thing as freedom.”
“Is he here?” Callan asked after a beat. “My brother?”
My throat tightened. “No.”
“Where is he?”
“We got separated in the valley,” I said. “The naiad pulled him under before the fire could reach him.” I swallowed against the ache. “He’s safe. Or safer than he would’ve been on that hillside.”
Something like genuine relief flickered across Callan’s features, quickly smoothed over with his usual arrogance. “I’m surprised he let you come here without him,” he said. “Surprised he’d let you walk into this alone.”
“He didn’t ‘let’ me do anything,” I said. “He trusts me to fight my own battles. Even when he’s afraid of what it might cost.”
“And I don’t?” he challenged.
“You’re here because you’re afraid of what it will cost you if you don’t help,” I said. “That doesn’t make you a coward. It just means you’re not doing this for me.”
He stared at me for a long moment, something like hurt moving behind his eyes. Then he blew out a breath and leaned back against the shelves, fingers drumming lightly on a wooden box.
Outside, a cart rattled past. Somewhere in the distance, a bell chimed the late hour.
“You know,” he said finally, voice quiet, “in another life, I might’ve been good for you.”
“In another life,” I said, “you might’ve been good. Full stop.”
He winced, but he didn’t deny it. And I knew what he was thinking as sure as if he’d asked it aloud.
“I can’t marry you,” I said, softer now. “Not to stop her. Not to save you. Not for anything. If I tie myself to you, I become a tool all over again. For your court. For your council. For every fae who thinks a queen’s power comes from who she stands beside instead of who she is.”
“And Rydian?” he asked. “Is that different?”
“Yes,” I said simply, ignoring the heartbreak in that one word.
It was absolutely different because with Rydian, I’d never be his.
Callan swallowed. Looked away. When he met my eyes again, his were bright, but his voice was steady.
“I’ll make sure no one stops you from walking through.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he muttered. “If this goes poorly, we’ll all be dead, and she’ll make Frostwights out of our bones.”
I didn’t let myself picture that.
He stepped past me, toward the curtain, then paused. “Aurelia.”
“Yes?”
“If you survive this,” he said, “and if by some miracle I do too… what then?”
“Then we keep fighting,” I said. “Until she’s stopped. Until my people wake. Until this realm remembers what it is to be free.”
“And us?” he asked, almost lightly. “Is there an ‘us’ in that future somewhere? Even as allies? As friends?”
I considered him.
The boy who’d tried to save me by caging me. The king now risking his crown to give me a shot at saving something bigger than both of us.
“There could be,” I said honestly. “If you keep choosing the realm over your pride.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “That sounds exhausting.”
“It will be,” I said. “But you might start to like yourself before it’s done.”
He looked like he wanted to say something else. Instead, he nodded, squared his shoulders, and slipped back through the curtain.