Chapter 37
Isabelle
Ifeel like I’m seeing a ghost. After so long of knowing someone from the sidelines and making up their mannerisms in my head, seeing them stand before you is like watching someone walk out of the grave.
Besides, this woman looks nothing like the woman I saw in Grym Hollow.
No, that Erin was meek and kept her head down, always dressing in clothes that hid her entire body from the world.
Even in the midst of summer when temperatures hit well above one hundred degrees Fahrenheit, Erin always wore pants and long sleeves if she was out in public.
The woman standing before me is no longer the timid, fragile soul she once was. Her posture is poised, head held high with a quiet confidence she never possessed before. There’s a newfound strength in her presence. Steady, unshaken, and undeniable.
Her bare arms, once marred by bruises and the ghosts of past wounds, are now smooth and unblemished, a testament to her newfound freedom in Mescos.
Even her face, which she used to hide behind a curtain of hair, is fully visible, radiant and untouched by the remnants of James’s wrath.
She doesn’t just look different. She is different. She looks like a queen.
Erin attempts to take another step forward, but the man behind her reaches out, grabbing her wrist before she can make it too far.
His name finally reemerges in my memories.
Allarick. Erin’s new husband. He says something I can’t hear because they are too far away.
Erin’s brow furrows, but she nods once and stays by his side.
“The king of the sea,” Garvan hisses from behind me. His hot breath hits the side of my cheek. In my awestruck state, the demon behind me moved closer.
Garvan violently yanks me up by my hair, pain blooming in my skull. I scream as he pulls me back against his hard chest. Something sharp presses against my neck, the undeniable touch of a blade. My fucking dagger. The one Oziel gave me.
“You aren’t supposed to be here, Kraken King.”
Garvan is fully gone. Hysteria laces each word, and his body trembles as he holds me in an iron grip against him. I no longer recognize the courtier; he’s been replaced with this unhinged demon.
“Seems to me my husband and I came at the right time,” Erin says, voice unwavering.
I blink, still astonished by this woman before me. Strong. Fierce. Determined. Erin eyes me—not like she recognizes me, but more like she understands I’m not a demon. I’m human, like her.
“Garvan, you hold Oziel’s queen against her will. Only a cowardly man would use a woman as a shield.” Allarick’s deep baritone voice reverberates around us.
Garvan presses the blade harder against me. It’s so fucking sharp, already digging into my skin. Despite myself, I whimper.
“Please,” I beg, though I don’t know what I’m begging for.
To let me go? To kill me and end all of this?
The last few years of my life have been hell.
Every day was a fight for justice, but never have I felt so powerless.
Oziel’s absence has ripped my heart in two, leaving me feeling empty and lost without my husband’s strength next to me.
He wouldn’t want me to give up. But fuck, it’s so tempting. I’m so fucking tired of fighting.
“You don’t want to do this, Garvan. Allarick and I have been through this. We can—”
“You can’t help!” Garvan’s voice roars above Erin’s. “You know nothing of what I’m going through. What is at stake for our kingdom. No one does! I’m the only one willing to do what needs to be done.”
“You’re wrong! Oziel would have saved us all. Would have saved you!” Fire ignites in my blood again, the words pouring out of me before I can stop them.
“He would have gotten us all killed! That reckless fool would have led us straight to our doom.” Garvan’s voice is eerily calm, yet the quiet fury simmering beneath his words sends a chill down my spine.
His restrained anger is far more terrifying than his outbursts.
“I am the only one willing to do what is necessary to save the demons.” His words aren’t just a declaration; they are a promise, a warning, and a threat all at once.
“This is not the way it works, Garvan. The Nephilim will not spare you because you bowed to their whims. You are doing nothing for your people but sending them to an early grave.” Allarick takes a step forward, keeping Erin behind him, but his face is determined, locked on Garvan’s every move.
Fear settles low in my belly, and I silently thank the higher powers that Allarick is on my side…I think. I don’t want this man as an enemy.
“Don’t get any closer!” Garvan screams.
This time, the blade at my neck cuts deep, drawing my blood. I can’t see it, but I smell it and feel warm liquid sliding down my neck. I barely feel a thing though; my adrenaline is far too high.
Allarick doesn’t listen. He takes another step closer. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Courtier. You see, this is my fight too. The Nephilim are the most dangerous enemies to my people. My battle may be over, but my war is not. I can’t let you aid them.”
“And we won’t let you hurt her.” Erin steps up next to her husband. Allarick shifts slightly so his body is angled in front of her.
Even with Allarick and Erin here, they’re too far away to reach me in time. If Garvan decides to slit my throat, nothing can stop him. Not even a kraken king and his queen. But once I’m gone, there will be nothing standing in their way. They’ll take him down without hesitation.
Maybe this is why Ender brought me here—to die so the kingdom might live. A necessary sacrifice to prevent its downfall.
Oziel would have to rule alone, but that was his original plan before I ever arrived. He might grieve me, might carry the weight of my absence, but in the end, he would be the king his demons needed. Strong and unshaken.
My death will bring salvation for him and his kingdom.
Something akin to acceptance passes through me. It is true what they say about death; once you accept it, a sense of peace overtakes you. I only have one regret. And that’s not telling Oziel how I feel about him.
“The queen’s blood will be on your hands!” Garvan yells.
And this is it. The world seems to slow down; the noises around me fade away. My eyes close, preparing for the end. For Garvan to slice the dagger through my neck, and for my blood to stain my body until death claims me. I wait…
And wait…
Then a shocked gasp pulls me back to the present. Garvan’s hold on me loosens, his dagger dropping to the ground, and I take this as my chance to pull free from him. There’s no resistance on his part, and his arms fall away from me. I manage to get a few feet away before I look back.
Garvan sways from side to side, face drained of all color. It takes me a moment to realize what I’m seeing, but sticking out of the side of his neck is a dagger. Then I notice the excessive amount of blood staining his shirt.
I think it’s done. It should be done. But then he lunges for me with his last bit of strength. I hear someone yell my name, but they are too far away.
Garvan is a dying man, but he’s not willing to leave without taking me with him. His body collides with mine, and we tumble to the ground in a bloody mess. His hands tighten around my neck, cutting off my oxygen, even while he chokes on his own blood.
He doesn’t want to die without taking me with him. He’s about to be thoroughly disappointed.
I thrash, doing everything I can to push him off.
He’s far stronger than he appears, and heavier too.
Even halfway to the grave. I manage to get my arms out from under me and grab the knife at his neck, twisting it roughly.
His eyes widen, and his hands on my neck loosen enough for me to break free.
I push him off me with all the strength I possess, and he stumbles back.
Garvan opens his mouth once.
Nothing but blood comes out.
He takes one step closer before falling to his knees.
I’m frozen to the spot, watching this play out with morbid curiosity.
For a moment, our eyes lock. There’s a flicker of sorrow in his expression before the light goes out completely.
Garvan tumbles forward, dead before his body hits the ground with a final thud.
“Good work, Delmare,” Allarick’s voice comes from behind me, steady and approving. “And you too, Isabelle. Are you okay?”
I nod. Maybe. Truthfully, I’m too frazzled to know if I’m truly fine. Nothing feels okay. Garvan’s dead. My husband is a statue. My body hurts.
The sound of boots crunching against the earth pulls my attention behind Garvan’s lifeless body.
I lift my gaze just in time to see a tall, older man step out from behind the tree.
His salt-and-pepper hair is tousled, streaks of silver standing out against the darker strands.
He’s bare-chested, his toned physique on display, and clad only in dark pants that blend into the shadows.
A sword hangs at his hip, its hilt well-worn, and several daggers are strapped to his belt, their metal edges catching the light.
His gaze lands on me, and he bows slowly.
“Queen Isabelle, a pleasure to see you again.” The strange man knows my name.
It should unnerve me, but then I remember he accompanied Allarick to the meeting with Oziel.
A hand rests against my shoulder, but because I’m on edge and not paying attention to my surroundings, I nearly jump out of my skin.
“I’m sorry!” a feminine voice answers. I turn just in time to see Erin take a hesitant step back. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I thought you knew I was behind you.”
“Why are you here?” My question comes out harshly. Angry. I don’t mean for it to be. Shame instantly heats my face. “I’m sorry. I’m just…”
“There’s no need to apologize, Isabelle,” Allarick says, coming up behind Erin. She leans into him at the same time he puts an arm around her waist. Not in ownership, but rather as if every moment not touching her is agony. Their love is evident and effortless. A pang of jealousy darkens my mood.
“We were already on our way to meet you. You requested to speak to my wife, and she was eager to meet you.” He smiles at Erin, and she returns it.
They share a whole conversation with no words.
“We tried to get into contact with Garvan, but he stopped responding to my messengers. I feared something might have happened, so I came here myself. Where I go, so does Erin. Where Erin goes, Delmare goes.”
“For the most part. Sometimes we actually do spend time apart.” Erin laughs good-naturedly.
Delmare crouches down next to Garvan’s lifeless body. He reaches for his dagger, lodged deep into his throat. “I told you Queen Hettie’s axe-throwing classes would come in handy, my king.”
“So you did,” Allarick says, amused. “Good work, old friend. However, I still don’t believe you’ll be able to beat my sister in darts.”
Delmare sighs, as if agreeing with his assessment. “Then I shall practice some more,” he says before pulling out the dagger and wiping the blood off on Garvan’s clothes.
I stare down at the fallen courtier, searching for even the faintest trace of sympathy or remorse. But there’s nothing, only a hollow indifference. He doesn’t deserve my pity. Not after what he did to our people. To Oziel.
His betrayal was calculated, ruthless, and nearly successful. And, despite his death, the curse still lingers. If I can’t find a way to cleanse the River Hel and save the demons, his treachery may claim its victory after all. Nephilim could overtake demon territory if I fail.
No fucking pressure.
“Now that we’re here, we want to help you,” Erin says, and both Allarick and Delmare nod in agreement.
“We can’t have even a single kingdom fall to the Nephilim,” Allarick says gravely, a tense silence settling over us.
After a moment, he continues, “You are queen, Isabelle. I’m guessing something has happened to your husband, for I know he would have never let Garvan capture you.
At the moment, you’re the only ruler of this kingdom, so you must decide our next move. ”
Once again, no fucking pressure.
My time of giving up has passed. Allarick’s words ring true. Without Oziel here, I’m the only ruler of this kingdom. I won’t let it fall simply because giving up would be easier. It’s not what Oziel would want. Hell, it’s not what I want.
But the question remains—what is our next move?
As the thought takes hold, my eyes land on the roses scattered across the ground where Garvan dropped them.
Their petals seem to pulse with an unseen energy.
An inexplicable pull tugs at me, silent yet insistent, drawing me toward them.
I don’t understand it, but resisting feels impossible.
The magic calls to me. Not malicious or dark like it was for Garvan, but, rather, it carries a healing quality to it.
I inhale sharply, steeling myself. Whatever this force is, whatever it means, I know one thing: I have to follow it.
Lifting my gaze, I meet the eyes of my three new allies, a newfound determination settling over me. “I have a plan,” I say, my voice firm. “But I can’t promise it will work.”