Chapter Twenty-Four
I wonder if I smell like fear.
I don’t get close enough to see her. I don’t want to.
But Leo has been dead for weeks, and even from where I stand, I can tell her body shows no signs of decomposing.
No. She looks serene, as if she had just dozed off.
As if any moment she might wake up and her laughter will fill the room and the ache behind my ribs will stop hurting.
I don’t know what Morana has done to preserve her body this way, but a rotten stench hangs in the air—sharp and putrid. Cursed magic.
Rage bubbles up inside me, boiling my blood. Leo didn’t deserve to die the way she did. She definitely doesn’t deserve to be kept on display like this—as a warning, a threat. She deserves to be put to rest. She deserves peace.
Titus lurches toward the casket. Sways.
Gabriel’s hand touches his elbow, steadying him.
“You must leave.” Queen Sade stands up straighter, and though her voice shakes, she looks more determined than she did before. “Take her body with you.”
Titus staggers backward a step, as if she’s struck him. “We can’t.” His voice cracks, his chest heaving.
“You must!” Sade begs, moving toward him with purposeful strides. “Please, if you don’t—”
“We want to help you,” Gabriel says calmly, stepping between them, his hands raised in a placating manner. “We can get you out. All of you.” He reaches for her, but she jerks away, her composure slipping.
“I will not abandon my people,” she bites out, fury dancing like flames in her eyes.
Titus doesn’t move. He just stares at Leo’s corpse, his spine rigid, shoulders tense. The queen must know he’s not in any state to decide, because she turns to me.
If only she knew the state I’m in.
“She’s so light!” Sade pleads, grabbing my arm. “She won’t be difficult to carry. You can—”
Sade goes still. Her eyes widen, mouth gaping in horror.
“They’re coming.”
My heart leaps into my throat.
“Quick!” She motions at Gabriel and Titus, pointing to a dresser on the far side of the room. “Behind there—the passageway—”
Gabriel leaps into action, but Titus moves as if he were caught in a daze.
“We’ll take her,” I tell Sade, taking her hands in mine. “Let me—”
“There’s no time!” Sade’s voice breaks as she pushes me toward the small passageway. “Inside—go! Now!”
I hear them—footsteps. Dozens of them. Heavy, slow. They don’t run, as if they were following someone who walks at a leisurely pace. Someone who knows the queen will not try to escape.
Sade pulls Titus into one final embrace. “We were such fools. We should have never asked that of the two of you,” she whispers, a tear streaking her face. “Leonora loved you like a brother.”
Titus says nothing as he retreats into the passage. He slips away like a ghost, melding into the darkness as if he belonged there. As if to hide not just from the threat of whoever comes for us now, but from whom he’s become. Whom he’s lost.
As Sade closes the passage, our eyes meet, and she dips her head to me. “Take care of him,” she says. “For my brave Leonora.”
“She was brave,” I tell her, my voice firm. I couldn’t save her daughter—I cannot save her even now—but I can give her this. “Leo never stopped fighting.”
Sade smiles, blinking back tears, and seals the passage shut.
A breath of agonizing silence. A door creaking open. And then—
“Sade.” A deep, rasping voice. “It’s not like you to sneak away from your own party.”
“Lord Castor,” Queen Sade says coolly. “To what do we owe the honor?”
I feel Titus tense beside me, a taut wire ready to snap. Rage pulses from him with every painful thud of his heartbeat.
Gabriel grabs my arm. We need to go, I think. We need to get out of here.
I hear Will’s methodical footsteps through the wall, and I picture him circling Sade like a wolf, teeth bared in a polite smile.
“Your husband is dead, Sade.” I imagine his eyes twinkling with amusement. “My soldiers are hanging him from the castle walls as we speak.”
Sade doesn’t scream—she doesn’t give him the satisfaction. I barely hear her sharp inhale and the slow, shaky exhale that follows. “So you’ve come to kill me, then.” She sounds almost relieved.
She expected this, I realize. She likely knew it was only a matter of time. That’s why, when she said goodbye to her husband, it carried all the weight of a final farewell.
“It’s nothing personal, Sade, darling,” Will drawls.
I hear only Sade’s soft gasp and the dull thud that follows.
Quick. Merciful.
Three low growls fill the room like thunder.
“Not this one, Precious,” Will croons, and the Deimos gives a low whine. “Reunite Sade with her husband,” he adds to his soldiers, sounding bored. “Burn the princess’s body. We’ve no use for her anymore.”
I’m not sure if I reach for Titus’s hand or if he reaches for mine. All I know is that neither of us lets go.
“It’s time we make our presence known,” Will says. “Gather the delegates. I’d like to personally inform them of their… choices moving forward. Oh, and find Aster Oberon. She’s here somewhere.” Softer, almost like a purr, he adds, “I can feel her fear.”