56. Chapter Fifty-Six
“She’s dead?”
Her question rang in my ears. I watched the five stages of grief shadow her face in seconds. When a tear slipped past her cheek, though, the bone in my chest splintered against my heart, shattering it in seconds. I knew there was no way around this truth, no way to prevent Yenira’s death, but they had been family. Once upon a time, at least.
However brief that was.
I took that from her. I brought a hand to my mouth to conceal the tremble in my lip. “I’m so sorry, Saph,” I said just as Eero’s boots crunched against the dirt near our feet. Sapphire’s brows twitched together, and she frowned. She shook her head, mumbling something to me in response before turning away and continuing up the hill, tangling her fingers in her thick strands of silver. It wasn’t a dismissal, nor was it even anger.
It just was. A fact none of us could change.
Eero had shared his…words of wisdom to me. And, although I’d be forever grateful for his patience, they were hardly coherent behind the ringing in my ears. If we came out as victors, I’d be known as a few things.
The woman who killed the supposed queen consort of the Summer King—the holder of a throne she did not care for.
The halfling blessed by the gods who loomed over us in the sky.
And the bride to a forgotten king, resurrected from the ashes of his fallen kingdom.
When Eero’s words finally resonated with me, I sighed. “I know what I did, but in no world will her death be right. Not until that bitch of a fae goddess is dead.”
So, I pressed onward, but Eero grabbed me by the wrist. I faced him once more, my expression so neutral, it hurt. He did not smile, frown, or even blink. He merely handed me a silver blade, the slightest sheen of blood coating the flat edge.
It was a weapon I wasn’t sure I’d ever see again.
But I accepted it, and the silver beneath the leather handle tickled my palm like a silent threat. We ascended the hill toward the castle in silence. Sapphire led the journey, a few rebel forces joining us along the way. Everybody was bloodied, bruised, and broken—but there were no more sounds of death.
The silence of war was deafening. I feared what rested beyond such quiet calm—like the tempest of a storm looming in the shadows, awaiting our next move. But when I turned over my shoulder, I saw Casynox, Lyra, and more rebel forces toward the distant, snowy mountains.
We’d won today—the Winter Court was without a queen, and their king was nowhere to be found. I knew he was watching. I knew he would work alongside Myrthana until they no longer held interest in one another. But his time would come.
When I looked down at my silvery blade, I felt power resonate within me.
I would kill a king.
And then I would kill the devil who ruined everything. Today, Myrthana was a god to some, but tomorrow, she would be nothing.
She would be forgotten.