32. Chapter 31
Chapter 31
T he next morning, the village awakens to the rhythmic thud of Blades marching through the village, their boots pressing into the soft soil, sending children scattering like startled birds into the safety of the trees. Once, I might have been frozen with fear, but after all I've seen, their presence no longer holds the same sway over me.
“What is the meaning of this?” Keeper Tovar’s voice booms as he descends from the council hall, his robes trailing behind him like the forest itself made flesh. His gaze sharpens on the gathering of Blades, irritation flickering across his features.
Arax steps forward, his posture one of quiet command as he faces the warriors. “Why are you here? What is happening?”
The Blade captain steps forward, his face tense. “We scouted the valley before dawn,” he begins, each word measured, heavy. “There was no smoke from the Legion’s camp. The first time in weeks.” He hesitates before continuing. “We investigated. The camp was empty. They’re on the march, Reaper Arax. They’ll be here within days.”
Tovar’s face pales, his disbelief tangible. “No,” he whispers, the word almost lost in the morning air. “Not now. Not when they’re at full strength…” He lifts his head, his panic palpable. “They’ll tear through our defenses like we’re nothing, burn us to the ground for not siding with them.” His eyes lock onto mine, wild with accusation. “We should have bent the knee. We made a bargain with the wrong enemy.”
The words lash through me like a whip, but before I can speak, Tovar turns, his cloak swirling as he rushes back up the stairs, his retreat betraying the fear curling inside him.
I follow, my heart pounding as Solena and Arax fall into step beside me. Zyphoro trails behind, a silent specter in her own right. When we pass through the vine curtain into the hall, Tovar spins to face us, his face twisted in outrage.
“How dare you bring their kind into this sacred place?” His voice cracks like thunder, and the tension in the room swells, suffocating.
Erania rises from her place at the table, her brow furrowed. “Tovar, what’s happening? Explain yourself.”
“We are doomed,” Tovar snaps, pacing like a caged animal. “The Legion of Saints marches toward us as we speak, and now, because of Amara’s selfish choices, we stand defenseless. The Mordorin will not protect us.”
I stiffen, the accusation hitting harder than any physical blow. “You’re fortunate to even have the Blades,” I bite back, my voice steady, though inside I feel myself unraveling. “The Mordorin’s forces are thin, stretched to their limit. Before I left, my husband—” my voice falters on the word “—Prince Daedalus, was forced into negotiations to rally enough warriors to stand against even half the Legion.”
Tovar’s eyes narrow, and I can see the disappointment etched deep in his expression. “I have raised you as my own, Amara. You were taught to understand duty. You knew what it meant to be the Jewel of the Tenders. Yours was a life of sacrifice , and yet when we need you most, you betray us .”
The air feels too thick, like his words might suffocate me.
“ Sacrifice? ” I repeat, my voice laced with a bitterness I can no longer hide. “ Betrayal? You dare speak of these things as if you know their true meaning?” My hands clench at my sides, nails digging into my palms. “I gave everything, Tovar. Everything. And still it wasn’t enough for you. What more could you have wanted from me?” My voice cracks as the pain slips through. “My life?”
His face darkens. “That was the bargain, Amara,” he thunders, slamming his staff into the floor.
The gnarled wood, etched with ancient runes, rings out with a sharp crack that reverberates through the hall. But it’s the crack inside me that shatters the most. A hollow, unbearable pain that seizes my chest, twisting and pulling until I can barely breathe.
For a moment, I can’t speak, can’t think.
I feel something break, something deep and vital.
“You… you knew ?” My voice trembles, barely a whisper.
Tovar’s gaze falters, and the room falls into a heavy silence, all eyes turning toward him, waiting for an answer he can no longer hide.
Tovar’s words hang in the air, empty and hollow. “I knew only what I was told,” he says, his eyes flickering, unable to meet mine. “That you may not return, but that your sacrifice would guarantee our protection.”
My sacrifice.
The bitter laugh escapes before I can stop it, sharp and biting.
“Sacrifice?” I repeat, the word tasting like ash on my tongue. “You throw that word around as if it means nothing. But I know its meaning, Keeper.” My hand moves to my chest, clutching the weight of everything I’ve lost—my freedom, my trust, my innocence. “Far better than you ever will.”
“Tovar,” Erania says, her voice low, her disappointment heavy. “This is unacceptable. If you willingly sent Amara to her death, there must be consequences.”
“I will show him the consequences,” Arax says, calm as ever, yet the sound of his sword sliding free from its sheath cuts through the tension like steel on bone.
Tovar staggers back, his face paling, his back pressed against the wall as we close in. “I did what I had to,” he pleads, his voice cracking. “As Keeper, it is my duty to protect The Tenders. To protect the Souls. To protect The Grove. Why do none of you understand? I was willing to give them our Jewel, our Amara, who I love as my own daughter.”
“You are not worthy to call her that,” Arax growls, his sword raised, ready to deliver justice. The Keeper flinches, cowering in the shadow of the blade.
And then, silently, I reach out and place my hand on Arax’s arm. His dark eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see the tide of rage he’s holding back, barely restrained. Slowly, his arm lowers, and with reluctance, the sword slides back into its sheath.
“Look at what I’ve done for you, Amara,” Tovar insists, his voice dripping with arrogance as he clings to his delusions. “I gave you power. You have Fae who serve you now, because I made you their queen. Use this power, and save us!”
His words sting. His betrayal stings deeper.
“I am not their queen,” I say, my voice steady, though my heart is anything but. “They are not here because of you. They are here because they are my friends. They have fought for me in ways you never did, even when you claimed to be my father. You signed away my life as if it meant nothing.”
Erania stands beside me, her eyes dark with fury. “It was you who was wronged, Jewel. You should decide Tovar’s punishment.”
“I am Keeper Tovar!” he yells, his entire body trembling with rage and fear. “You cannot strip me of my title.”
“That title is the first thing you’ve lost,” Erania says coldly, her words sharp and final. “Our Jewel will decide what’s next.”
From the corner of the room, Zyphoro smirks, leaning lazily against the wall as she inspects her nails. “Kill him,” she says, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather. “It seems the quickest solution.”
“I actually agree with her,” Solena chimes in, her jaw tight, her voice laced with disgust.
It would be so easy. So simple to end him. After everything he’s done, everything he’s taken from me—the trust I once had in him as a father, the belief that he truly cared for me—ending him would feel like justice. He betrayed not just The Tenders as their guide, but me, as the girl who believed he loved her. The part of me that has been hurt and hardened screams for blood. For revenge.
But something stops me. The anger coursing through me, the sharp sting of betrayal, it burns deep—but this isn’t who I am. I glance at Arax, at Solena, at Zyphoro, and I think about the choices they’ve made, the loyalties they’ve shown, the battles they’ve fought beside me. I think about Arax, holding on to love and hope, despite everything that has been taken from him. I am not the monster Tovar has become, or the one Lanneth has always been. I am better than that. I have to be.
“I could end this,” I say, my voice quieter now. “I could kill you, and it would be justified. But I won’t.” My words hang heavy in the air, thick with emotion. “Not because you deserve mercy, Tovar, but because I won’t let you turn me into someone who revels in that kind of power.”
Tovar’s eyes widen in disbelief as I step away, and the room seems to breathe again, the tension loosening.
“Your punishment,” I say, my voice steady now, “is to live knowing that you betrayed the very people you swore to protect. And that you will never hold power here again. You are banished from The Grove.”
Tovar stands frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief. His lips curl into a sneer, but there’s something else behind it—fear. “You cannot banish me,” he spits, though his voice trembles with uncertainty. “The Grove is all I’ve ever known.”
“As it was for me,” I snap, my voice cutting through the air like a blade. “Yet you sent me to the wolves without a second thought. Now leave your staff and your cloak, and get out before these Fae dish out their own justice. Because if they choose to, I won’t be able to stop them.”
Arax’s hand hovers over his sword, a silent threat, while Zyphoro lets smoke swirl in her palm, the crackling tension ready to explode at any moment.
Tovar’s face tightens in defiance, but his hands betray him as they slowly reach up to untie the robe from his neck. The once-proud symbol of his authority slips from his shoulders and crumples to the floor, a discarded relic. The staff follows, its gnarled wood hitting the ground with a thud that reverberates through the hall, a final punctuation to his downfall.
His shoulders sag, and for the first time, he looks small—like a man unmoored from the only thing that gave his life meaning. He stands there, trembling, his gaze darting to the faces around him. He searches for mercy, but there is none.
With slow, reluctant steps, he turns and walks toward the door. His feet drag across the floor as if every step costs him something, and the weight of his banishment presses down on him, visible in the stoop of his back. As he reaches the threshold, he hesitates, his hand hovering over the vine-covered doorway as if he might say something, might plead for forgiveness. But there are no words left for him here.
He pushes through the vines, and the door closes behind him with a soft rustle, sealing him away from the only home he’s ever known.
The silence that follows is heavy, but I feel no triumph in it—only the bittersweet sting of loss, for what he once was and what we’ve both become.
“What now, Jewel?” Enaria asks, her voice trembling with uncertainty, and the entire council turns toward me, waiting for my next word. Their eyes are on me—expectant, hopeful, desperate.
I walk over to the discarded symbols of power that once belonged to Tovar, the Keeper’s robe and the elder staff, lying on the ground. My fingers close around them, and the weight is heavier than it should be. As I turn to Enaria, I hand them both to her. She fumbles with them, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“Jewel. I cannot take on the role of Keeper. The council must—”
“You are now Keeper,” I interrupt, my voice steady though my heart pounds in my chest. “We do not have time for meetings and politics when the Legion threatens everything we hold dear. We need a leader now.”
Enaria gulps, the responsibility sinking into her bones. “Then you should be that leader, Jewel.” When I hesitate, she steps closer, pleading. “I will take on the mantle of Keeper, but you’ve seen the outside world, you know what we face. If The Grove has any chance of surviving this, it must be with you leading us.”
“She’s right,” Solena says softly from beside me, her hand warm on my shoulder. “You are no mere human, Amara. You’ve faced the Father Below and lived.”
I turn back to Enaria, finding an uncomfortable logic in her words. “I will see us through this,” I finally say, forcing strength into my voice. “Whatever happens, we will not go quietly.”
Enaria nods, determination flickering in her eyes. “We will not.”
But even as I say the words, a wave of uncertainty crashes over me. Suddenly, Arax is at my side, vying for my attention, while Solena whispers something else in my ear. The council descends upon me with more questions, all of them leaning in as if I hold every answer. Zyphoro arches a questioning brow, her gaze sharp, waiting for instructions. The room is closing in. The weight of their expectations presses down on my chest, and the edges of my vision blur.
“I’ll be back,” I mutter, my voice tight, trying not to let my panic show. I slip from the hall, trying not to run but desperately needing to escape.
I find a quiet place away from them all, away from the eyes that look to me for salvation, and the moment I’m alone, my knees give out beneath me. I crouch low, leaning forward with my hands braced on my thighs, gasping for air. I’m suffocating under the weight of it all—the pressure, the duty, the fear.
They expect me to lead. To save The Grove. To be strong, but I feel anything but strong.
I close my eyes, willing the tears to stay hidden, but my thoughts betray me. They drift to Daedalus. Even after everything that has happened, after the betrayal, after the lies, I still yearn for him. The memory of his touch lingers on my skin, his kiss, his hands in my hair. A part of me misses him so fiercely it feels like another betrayal—this time, of myself.
I swallow hard, forcing the thoughts away, but the ache remains. He wasn’t there when I needed him most, and yet… I can’t stop wanting him.
I shake my head, burying the thought, because even now, in the midst of all this, I can’t afford to let myself feel this way. Not when there’s so much at stake.
Some time later, I find them all gathered around a fire, sharing food beneath the stars. The warm glow of the flames casts long shadows over the group as they sit on the ground, passing bowls of stew made from the vegetables we’ve grown in the soil of The Grove. It’s quiet, almost peaceful, though I catch Arax hungrily eying up any rabbit that bounces by. Solena smirks but says nothing, merely stirring the stew with an amused flick of her wrist.
“We’ll need more than vegetables to survive a war,” Zyphoro murmurs, though her tone is more teasing than serious as she leans back on her elbows, eyeing the fire with disinterest. Her appetite seems as distant as her thoughts.
“Tomorrow,” Arax begins, his voice cutting through the calm, “we’ll need to assess our situation. We’ve counted our numbers, and they’re… not promising.” His eyes meet mine, the flickering firelight dancing in them, but even the warmth of the flames doesn’t soften his expression.
“How many?” Solena asks, her tone as sharp as ever, but there’s a quiet determination in her posture, her eyes locked on Arax.
“The twenty Blades will fight,” Arax says, “but they’re not enough. And while they serve you for now, I do not trust them without Commander Rook. They follow me because they must, but their loyalty wavers. Without their true leader, they’re unpredictable.” He pauses, running a hand over the pommel of his sword. “If the Legion reaches us at full strength, our numbers will be like dust in the wind.”
Zyphoro snorts, her smirk widening. “Twenty Blades and a handful of Tenders against the Legion of Saints? This should be interesting.” Her voice drips with dark humor, but beneath the surface, there’s a seriousness that lingers. She knows what we’re up against.
“We’ll need to get creative,” Solena adds, her brow furrowing. “Anything that can give us an advantage in the forest. The Grove is our best defense—it will fight for us. But we should think of the children and the elderly. They will need somewhere safe to hide if the worst happens.”
I nod slowly, their words settling on my shoulders. “I know this land better than they do. That’s our advantage. Every inch, every shadow, every tree can be used against them.” My voice is steady, though beneath it all, my heart pounds with the uncertainty of what lies ahead. “In the days of old, the Sisters of the Vine were said to summon the very power of the forest, and even the animals rose to fight alongside them.”
The three Fae exchange skeptical glances, their disbelief evident.
“Pardon, Your Highness,” Arax says, his brow furrowing. “Animals?”
I give a small, secretive smile, stirring my bowl of stew before blowing on the steam lazily. “You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”