Chapter 40
The Queen
Damien
Ithrow open the doors of the throne room to find Nevina at the end of the long royal hall, dressed in a pristine silver ball gown and sitting on my mother’s throne. My mother’s crown rests upon her head, gold spikes encrusted with dark stones.
If I’d never been to Earth, I wouldn’t notice how much this place resembles a medieval church, the ceiling pointed at the center, arched stained glass letting in moonlight that casts the hall in geometric colors.
In human lexicon, she might be mistaken for an angel, the way she glows on high.
But after everything, I expect that slight, stick-insect body of hers to breathe flies and locusts.
“Stop where you are,” she commands, tapping the base of her scepter on the stone floor. “Be aware, shade, the light around me will burn you. If you come any closer, I will strike you down with my magic.”
I unhook Brahm’s crown from my belt and throw it down the long aisle. “I have your father’s too, although I left it with my men. I suspect it’s in the latrine by now, covered in their shit.”
The bubble of light around her expands but doesn’t come close to reaching me.
If she could strike me down where I stand, I’m sure she would.
But she has to conserve her energy. Her red lips sneer, rippling speechless with her anger.
“You filthy scum. You bastard smudge. Come closer and taste the sun.”
“Nah. I think I’ll wait here and watch you slowly starve to death. You can’t stay in that bubble forever, and there’s nowhere left for you to go.”
“You ignorant fool. A dark elf queen can sustain herself for a very long time. My people will come for me.”
“Your people are dead.”
She rolls her eyes incredulously.
“Not all of them, I grant you. Only the ones who tried to fight. Unlike you, we didn’t slaughter people in their homes or steal their children.”
“Oh, how noble of you. As if you don’t wear the blood of your enemies on your skin.
Everything you’ve done since you returned to this world has been to win back what you lost. Every action taken in your own zest for power.
You Hymirs are such hypocrites. Just like me, all you care about is this throne.
You would kill your own brother to get it.
You act all high-and-mighty, self-righteous, but you are just as bad as Brahm and me. We are the same.”
I chuckle. “I am nothing like you, Nevina.”
“No? How many citizens did you slaughter to stand before me now? And the next time there’s an uprising?
How many more will you slay? You care nothing about life or about children.
You care nothing for the will of the people.
You think you’re a hero, but you are a tyrant, just like your father.
You tell yourself a story about being different, about doing right by the people, but all kings cling to power, Damien. You are no exception.”
I nod. “You’re right.”
Her nostrils flare, and her lip curls in disgust.
“The Rivertoad king taught me the same lesson. It’s why I’ll be eliminating the monarchy and leading the kingdom toward a democracy.”
She laughs wickedly. “You must be joking. I’ve heard some wild ideas in my lifetime, but we both know the people need a king and queen.
They don’t know what’s best for them. If left to their own devices, they will all act in their own best interests and never agree on anything.
The kingdom will fall into disrepair. The people need someone to tell them what to do. ”
I shrug. “I guess we’re going to find out.”
She shakes her head, the idea clearly disgusting her.
I take a step toward her.
“Stay where you are! I’m warning you.”
A shadow moves behind her, the glint of a Stygian blade in her hand.
I recognize that blade. It once belonged to Cassius.
I smile when I see her, so happy that she’s made it.
It is poetic justice that she should be the one to kill Nevina.
I don’t look directly at her, just take another step forward.
“You are all rats. You shades are a filthy disease on Tenebris,” Nevina says. “Father and I tried to reform you, but you never understood how good you had it under our rule.”
“For the goddess’s sake, shut the fuck up,” my mother says, a second before she walks through the light and sinks Cassius’s dagger into Nevina’s heart.
“Nyxadora,” Nevina sputters, blood staining her bottom lip and dripping onto her silver dress.
“You took something that is mine,” my mother hisses.
“And today, I take it back.” Her skin blisters and burns in the dark elf’s light, but she doesn’t cry out.
She is mortal and she is hurting, but it will pass.
What she needs in this moment, she intends to take, and I will not interrupt the taking.
Mother yanks the blade up and out of Nevina’s chest, and I watch the life drain from the false queen’s eyes. Slowly, the light of her magic dies with her. With blackened fingers, Mother reaches out and drags her crown off Nevina’s head. Nevina’s body drops, lifeless, from the throne.
“You know, son,” Nyx says, her voice as charred as her flesh.
“It is a remarkable feeling to have birthed a child who is far wiser and more noble than either of his parents. And to know you have chosen a bride who is just as wise and just as noble makes me the proudest I have ever been.” She hobbles toward me and passes me the blade, still thick with Nevina’s blood. “Thank Eloise for lending me this.”
I look at it and then at her, relieved to see the blisters on her skin are already healing. “I will.”
Then she releases her grip on the crown, which rolls and clanks to a stop near my feet. “It’s your kingdom now. Do with it what you will.”