A Petal in the Crown (Magic of the Wildflowers Trilogy #3)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Lea

T he Earth itself was on fire. Not just the wildflowers and trees scattered across the massive hill Lea knelt upon. Not just the house she had grown up in, or the garden she’d spent years lovingly tending. Not just the well under the massive oak, or the small wooden marker Thomas had carved for her after her mother’s death.

The Earth.

As if the very fabric of the universe had been set aflame by the god of the sun himself.

Fire rained down from the sky, trails and funnels of black flames soaring from the heavens and crashing into the ground—a ground that trembled as if trying to flee its own destruction.

The grass turned to nothing but ash and embers as the fire spread rapidly down the hill, but Lea didn’t notice the flames as she leaned over her mate’s lifeless body in a puddle of sticky, warm blood. A fist-sized chunk of bloody, jagged flesh marked with a solitary moonflower laid at her feet. Their mate bond.

Severed.

No longer attached to a body or a soul.

Where the gift of their bond had been inked and sealed—their promise of eternity—was only a gaping hole above where Gray’s heart no longer beat, his lifeless body splayed open so violently that the broken bones of his ribcage protruded like gnarled fingers.

It was all Lea could see. All she would ever see again.

She was completely unaware of the storm clouds flashing furiously with lightning overhead, obscuring the moon and stars. Unaware of the rain pounding down in thick sheets that did absolutely nothing to extinguish the scorching inferno violently spreading around her. Nor did she hear her friends’ screams—Erik and Janelle begging her to stop. Warning her that if she didn’t rein in her magic, she was going to kill them all.

None of it reached her. She was too deep within her darkness, too overwhelmed by her grief and the horrific, pure power raging inside her, whispering into her marrow.

Destroy.

Destroy.

Destroy.

The command pounded with her heart’s furious rhythm like a war drum, incessant in its demand. The floor that had once kept her primary magic tucked safely away had completely shattered, allowing the power of the gods, the immense magic that had been hidden inside her, to mix with her own.

Raw, primal magic reverberated through her chest and down her arms, tingling into the tips of her fingers and ringing in her ears. She was no longer in control. She was no longer Lea. Not without Gray. She never would be again.

In the span of a few heartbeats, the power of her primary magic seeped into every cell of her body, slowly burning through the good inside her—every bit of hope, everything about her that was pure . Lea was no longer the woman she’d been this morning .

No. All evidence of that girl had been seared from her being the moment her mate had taken his final breath. In an instant, she’d transformed into something new. Something completely and wholly devoid of hope and light.

As he'd traveled beyond the veil, so had Lea’s soul.

Destroy.

Destroy.

Destroy.

Her vision turned red, her blood pumping furiously, death hovering around her shoulders like a shroud. Lea placed her palms on Gray’s chest, searching with her magic for the reaper’s cold fingers as she had the day she’d saved Queen Emmaline’s baby. But where Gray's life should be, that thread of light nestled behind his ribs, there was nothing .

"You are not leaving this world," Lea growled as she ripped the vines from the ground that she had planted in Gray's blood. The ones she’d buried before he’d taken his final breath. The ones that, once again, hadn't worked.

It requires every drop… Gray had said just before he'd dug his blade beneath his skin, slicing through his own flesh as he’d cut the mate bond away.

Lea pushed a new handful of moonflower seeds into the dirt, plunging her hands into the blood-soaked soil and praying enough of Gray’s blood had been spilled for them to grow—fast. "You are not dying," she insisted. "You are not going beyond the veil."

Even as she said the words, Lea knew he was already there. His chest no longer rose and fell—there wasn't even enough of his chest left to rise and fall—and his eyes were glassy with death. In them, Lea’s reflection stared back at her, her own eyes completely black with shadows and her skin covered in deep, scarlet blood. Her mate’s blood. Her blond hair had come undone from its braid and now flew about her face like a golden veil, accentuating her sharp jaw and flushed cheeks.

The fire crackling across the hill grew impossibly hotter, spreading rapidly toward town, where the royal soldiers were surely fleeing. The screams of grown men met her ears as the deadly blaze reached them in the distance, further fueling her rage.

Destroy . The voice became stronger, firmer—a slithering wickedness that didn’t sound human at all.

Alaric might have disappeared, taking his magic along with him before she’d been able to sever it from his body, but those bastard soldiers that had chosen to fight with him remained. Even without looking away from Gray’s unnaturally still form, Lea could hear them running—the thunderous rumble of feet pounding against the cobblestone roads of Bearswillow. Cowards desperate to escape with their lives after slaughtering gods knew how many innocent rebels.

Fuck them.

Lea shot her arms out, her eyes never leaving her mate. She pictured her shadows morphing into snakes—thousands of them. They slithered from her fingers like hungry cobras, lightning fast, fangs bared as they raced after the Royal Army.

Consume their hearts , Lea commanded them silently. Every last one.

There would be no chance for Alaric’s men to repent or change sides. There would be no mercy. No redemption.

Not anymore.

Not ever again.

Raw power crackled across Lea’s skin as she pushed her hands deeper into the ground, the cries of soldiers falling as her shadows ripped them apart, feeding her power. She commanded death like she was its master. A god on earth.

Magic that can create just as it can destroy. Tanad’s words circled in her mind.

Destroy.

Destroy.

Destroy.

The voice continued to beg, a ceaseless plea surging through her blood and clattering around her skull.

But not yet. First, she had to create —even if it killed her. She needed the cure.

Then, and only then, would she give in to that voice demanding she destroy. And destroy she would. She would bring the world to its fucking knees.

"Grow," she hissed, her voice low and seething with desperate fury as she found a miniscule flicker of light that remained inside her and forced it into the soil.

As soon as Gray’s blood saturated the seeds, they cracked open, vines furiously shooting up from the ground like fingers of the dead bursting from their graves. The puddle of blood she knelt in receded as the thirsty roots of the moonflowers drank in the thick, cooling liquid until, despite the rain still falling, the dirt around them was dry as bone.

In a haze of smoke, the black flames engulfing her burned away her clothing, draping her in a gown of undulating flames. The vines continued to spread across the hill, creeping up Lea’s legs and torso and wrapping in spirals up her body until they surrounded her head like a crown. Her fire burned through the vines knotted at the back of her skull, creating a perfect, thorny diadem of moonflowers that rested just above her forehead and wound through her hair as if she had been born wearing it. As if she was and had always been the Queen of Death and Goddess of Destruction.

The dark fire continued to rage as the moonflowers opened. But as they grew and flourished, so did Lea’s savagery. She’d waited for years for this moment, but even the sight of thousands of pristine white moonflowers beginning to unfurl did nothing to ease the poisonous need for vengeance inside her—to soothe the gory, scarred mess of muscle where her heart used to be.

Black, thorny vines crept, twisted, and swirled as they spread like poison oak, absorbing the flames as if they were water—as if the heat of the fire was giving them energy they needed to not only grow, but thrive . The flames had no effect on the delicate flowers—didn’t singe or burn the thin, fragile edges of their petals. Instead, they cut clear pathways through the fire wherever they took root.

Lea could hardly find her light amongst the swirling void of darkness inside her, but she sought out a small ember, forcing it down her arms and through her fingers into the moonflowers, pouring it into the dirt until the final, tentative flicker of warmth extinguished completely. The tiny buds continued to open. Thousands of them—tens of thousands of blooming moonflowers. It was a choreographed symphony of life , of victory. And yet, Lea was completely unable to feel the joy of her success.

Focusing all her energy on a single flower in front of her, she demanded it to bloom fully. It listened, bursting open in a pop of pure white, a stark contrast to the black flames and thorny vines surrounding it. Hundreds more opened fully in sequence, as if all they had needed was for one to succeed for them to wake from their slumber.

Wait until they’re ready, Wildflower. They must bloom fully… You’ll know when to pick them. Picked by the right person with the right intentions, at the right time, the flowers from these seeds can stop death himself. Lea’s mother’s words echoed through the crackling of the fire. Had she somehow known what would be required for them to bloom? What Lea would have to lose to finally wield the magic of the wildflowers? Had she known that Alaric, The Black King’s eldest son, would destroy not only her life, but the world as they knew it?

The wind picked up in a massive gust, pushing her arm toward the vines. Without hesitating, she ripped a flower from its stem, reaching out with her primary magic for any hint of death that may be lingering around the moonflowers, but death was nowhere to be found. The flower remained pristine as she stuffed a petal between Gray’s lips and closed his jaw.

Lea froze, the blood roaring in her ears the only sound as she held her breath. The fire stopped popping and sizzling, and the flames halted—froze as if they were sentient beings waiting with bated breath to see what would happen next.

Lea wasn’t exactly sure what she expected to happen—for Gray to take in a sudden, violent gasp of air and open his eyes, or for the color to slowly flush back into his pale skin.

But it wasn’t for nothing to happen at all. Pain rocked through every inch of Lea’s body, her chest and head throbbing and her lungs refusing to inhale. She gritted her teeth, pushing another petal into his mouth. It was impossible for him to be truly gone. Impossible that he was beyond her reach. But once again, he remained as still as stone.

Lea roared at the sky, the storm clouds flashing with savage silver-blue lightning. Cursing the gods above, she grabbed another flower, ripping off the petals and rolling one into a ball. She crushed it between her fingers until a small drop of liquid hung from the base, then dropped the juice onto Gray’s tongue and closed the macerated petal inside his mouth.

This has to work. These flowers can defeat death himself. This has to work. There was no other option. No world in which she was willing to live without Gray. And yet, that’s exactly what she was doing. Breathing in and out, heart beating, while her mate lay there, lifeless.

Tears streamed from Lea’s eyes, evaporating into steam as they trailed down her cheeks. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She had accepted the mate bond fully and whole-heartedly—every part of it.

They were never meant to be separated, whether in life or death. But Gray had stolen that certainty from her as he cut their bond from his flesh. He’d given her the gift of life. But what he’d done wasn’t a gift—not without him here. Without him, it was nothing more than a curse.

"Lea!" a roar met her ears, and Lea twisted, her flames shooting outward on instinct.

"Please," a familiar voice begged. "She’s dying, Lea. Look at her. Look at Emma."