Chapter 55 Jace
JACE
My boots stomp over tall grass and overgrown weeds as I reach the wave of crimson flowers swaying in the breeze.
Angelfyre. My mother’s favorite.
In the quiet of the afternoon, with not a sound around save the song of the birds and the trickling waterfall nearby, my mind finally empties.
I haven’t had a moment’s peace since Derek died. Not a single one to breathe—to think long enough to ask myself what the hell I’m doing.
You are no king. King of fools, that old crone in Vod had said.
She was right. I am no king. I never wanted a crown. I just wanted to fight and die a soldier’s death. But Derek always had bigger plans for me.*
Fresh pain rips through me at the thought of him.
I’m furious. So furious at him for having to be the hero. For throwing his life away for mine.
He should be here. If he were, maybe we could find a way out of this mess. He knew what he was doing, and I just—don’t. Hand of the King was one thing. King regent is another entirely.
My days are filled with endless meetings. Endless questions and planning. What little time I have to myself is dedicated to worrying about Serena.
Where she is. What she’s doing. How am I supposed to run Derek’s kingdom when she is all I think about?
I know I’m obsessing. If I’m being honest, I’ve been obsessed since that day I found her in the Bone Forest. The day I tortured her, stabbed her in the leg, and she laughed in my face.
She was an enigma. Wild, tenacious, scathing—yet somehow warm and inviting. Addicting.
Haunting.
She’s somewhere across the seas, but she is the ghost in my head, the one I reach for but can never grasp. I keep chasing, and the farther I wander, the faster she evades.
I can’t let her go. No matter how hard I try.
I gather the biggest flowers I can find, making my way toward the two headstones beneath the willow tree.
Jon Fallyn and Sabel Fallyn.
Derek placed these headstones here in their memory, along with two Everblooms. The white petals hold strong no matter the season, their flame visible night and day, rain or shine, never to extinguish. That was the kind of male Derek was.
He loved me before he even knew me.
He saved me from certain death and made me his son.
He brought me up in this world, then left me his only daughter and his crown.
And here I am. Ungrateful and wallowing.
How could I go against his wishes? After everything he’s done, everything he sacrificed.
I lay the bouquet down at my mother’s grave, and pick a few weeds off my father’s. Then I head past the towering wrought-iron gate and stone pillars lining the path to Derek’s shrine.
The door to the crypt groans behind me, sinking closed. Sealing me in as if to say, it should have been you.
I drift past the tall painted vases of fading flowers, past the gifts and offerings left in his honor, stopping before the freshly laid marble tomb that houses Derek’s heart.
My hands smooth over the surface, cold and unflinching as death itself.
Derek’s body was burned on a funeral pyre and set loose on the river, according to our customs. But like all other kings before him, his heart—a representation of his valor, courage, and selflessness—will remain here, encased in stone, to beat eternally among his people.
“You were right.” I sigh, the echo of my broken voice shattering the silence.
“I love her. And I’m lost. I’m so lost. I don’t know what you would say. I know you would want me to make sure Sorscha was protected and looked after, and I promise you she always will be…but I don’t love her the way I should. The way she deserves.”
I swallow, my throat thick.
“I’ve never wavered in my loyalty to you. I’ve never faltered. But this is a bridge I don’t know how to cross. Just send me some kind of sign. Please.”
I tip my forehead against the tomb, locking down the swell of pain, the guilt, the sinking fear clawing at my mind, demanding to be let free. Then I push away, squaring my shoulders, and start back toward the castle.
My heart skips a beat as I step into the hall to find her waiting.
* Cue: Funeral by Phoebe Bridgers