31. Enlo
Enlo stepped forward as Revi’s familiar frostcat form appeared beside him again.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“The curse is broken.” Revi’s voice rumbled in its familiar beastly cadence. “Our people need a leader, and it’s not me. I will handle this threat.”
Revi didn’t wait for Enlo to respond, and Enlo stared after him as he bounded across the fresh snow, leaving massive paw prints in his wake.
Enlo dug his hands into his hair. The curse was broken. The thought kept circling in his mind. Revi had broken the curse, Enlo suspected strongly, because of his willingness to sacrifice himself. To let Enlo lead.
He had sacrificed his days in a far more permanent way because of his love of the Court and his love of Enlo. Now he was doing it again, going to face a dozen enemies on his own. Enlo had no doubt he would die from it. He was already weak, bereft of most of his magic.
Because of Enlo.
Enlo could have everything he wanted. He could keep the throne. He could probably even spin the story to paint himself as a hero. Revi would be gone. No one would know.
But... Revi would be gone. His best friend. His almost-brother. The one who had always sought his opinion, had always valued him as they’d worked together for the Winter Court.
The clarity that came with that thought stung like a dive into a frozen river, and he suddenly understood why Revi had chosen to let Kienna leave. Saving the entire Winter Court would be meaningless if he lost Revi in the process. Enlo had never truly wanted his cousin’s throne. His desperation to get out of the curse had twisted his thoughts and made him believe it was the only way to save them all.
But the curse was broken. Revi had broken it. Revi, the strong warrior, the fearless protector, the man Enlo had seen fight for his people time and again. Just like he was fighting now, while Enlo hung back. Revi had always been willing to die for his people, but Enlo had finally realized he couldn’t let that happen.
He started down the steps of the castle, paused, turned around, and dashed inside, scooping up the axe forgotten on the floor before running back outside.
Revi was a maelstrom of death. He moved amongst the zruyeds that had converged on him in the front garden, delivering destruction the likes of which Enlo hadn’t seen from him since the attacks that had led to the curse.
But at the same time, it was nothing like that, because for every two strikes Revi made, the zruyeds delivered one to him. Red stained his fur and the fast-growing layer of snow on the ground.
They were killing him as surely as he killed them.
Enlo leaped into the fray, striking the nearest enemy and drawing its attention away from Revi. He fought desperately, leaning into the long-buried memories of fights won against these monsters. He’d never been a great warrior like Revi, but he had held his own, and he dredged up those recollections to do so again now. He narrowly avoided one taking his head off, scrambling back and cutting into it with his axe. It dropped at his feet, and he moved in to guard Revi’s back, just as he had before. One by one, the zruyeds fell.
Until none were left.
Enlo didn’t even realize it until a pained whine cut through the silence. He whirled; Revi had collapsed, his sides heaving. His face was wan.
Enlo dropped to the ground beside Revi. In his comatose state, Revi was already shifting back to his natural form, tangled silver hair spread around him in waves.
“No, no, no!” Enlo growled. He pulled Revi onto his lap and pressed his hands to each side of Revi’s head. He tapped into his newfound magic—the Court’s magic, meant for the royal on the throne. It felt weak, or maybe empty, like a drought-plagued river, somehow. And it was supposed to be Revi’s, not his.
But even as empty as it felt, it was still a large force compared to his own normal magic; his was a bowl he could draw on in small amounts. This was a torrent. Enlo almost wasn’t sure how to wield it. So with all of the finesse of a blind, blundering bear, he shoved it at Revi, willing it, begging it to go back to its original master.
It seeped into Revi, but without proper guidance, Enlo could feel it draining out just as quickly as it entered.
He pushed more in futile hope, but when that did the same as before, he stopped. Wasting the magic wouldn’t help anyone. If only Enlo hadn’t destroyed Revi’s roses—
His head snapped up.
The frostrose bush. He had destroyed the roses, yes, but the bush itself was still there.
He was on his feet in moments. He heaved Revi up over his shoulders, gripping one leg and one arm in front of him. He grunted as he took a step. Even as a man, Revi was massive. Enlo gritted his teeth and took another step.
Too slowly, keenly aware of the fading heartbeat against his shoulder blades, Enlo carried Revi to the eastern garden. To the frostrose bush, mangled as it was. Shame burned Enlo as he looked at it. Tears stung his eyes. He pushed the emotions away and carefully laid Revi down on the snow beside the bush. He looped one of Revi’s arms up and over a stunted branch, and he curled his own fingers around Revi’s to grip the plant.
He stretched out his senses toward Revi, trying to gauge if the bush was having any effect on him. The magic of the bush swirled around Revi, some even sinking into him, but his magical presence did not grow stronger. Enlo tightened his fingers over his cousin’s, pressed his forehead to Revi’s chest, and let silent, wracking sobs overtake him.