CHAPTER THIRTY
Everything happened at once. Cries erupted behind us as my friends and allies collided with the skeleton army Preston had summoned. I spun toward Charles, finding that the guards who’d been restraining him were already retreating on shaking legs, overwhelmed by terror at the noise of demons approaching. Apparently, when danger was actually nearing, their trust in the siblings’ protection was fragile, too.
A long, pincer-like limb lashed out through the yawning entrance, and I leapt back just as one of the guards hurled a dagger at the creature.
“Traitor,” Nerissa snapped, and with a single gesture, she yanked the flesh off the screaming man’s bones.
Charles vomited, but I had already seen such horrors, and my mind was preoccupied with survival. The creature lurched forth from the underworld, same as the type Garrick and I had fought only a few nights ago in the castle halls. It swung one of its claws for me, and I ducked, trying to concentrate on the power in my blood. All I needed was to draw close enough to risk one touch, and I should be able to repel it. Perhaps I could force it back into the underworld, force all the demons back before they could rip the kingdom to shreds.
With ear-splitting shrieks, more creatures burst through the entryway, shattering my hope. One bore the skeletal head of the demon I’d faced in the bowels of the fortress, its empty eye sockets stirring terror and despair as soon as it turned its head in my direction. Others varied, but were no less terrifying: a monster with fangs too large for its jaws and eyes too large for its head thundered forward, shaking the floor. One of the guards attempted to meet it with a sword, only to be pummeled with its fist and then, in a single bite, lose his head. Another creature didn’t look quite corporeal, flitting through bodies and objects only to take its victims by surprise, sinking teeth into throats or tightening long, slender fingers around necks to snap them.
I screamed, unleashing a blast of cold air and hail that formed at a mere thought, reacting to the riot of emotions churning inside me. The ice pelted against the demons, slowing but not stopping them.
“I knew you’d break your bargain,” Preston said, startling me with how near he was.
Spinning, I found him behind me, grasping Charlie with one strong hand while the other hung loosely at his side, free for him to do whatever he wished. It was a silent threat. One motion, one snap of his fingers, and he could strip my half-brother of his flesh the same way Nerissa had just done to one of the fae. My stomach roiled.
“You were never going to let me live anyway,” I protested. “I’m the only one who can send back the demons and seal off the underworld. The only one who could ruin your plans.” A dagger of ice formed between my fingers, and I swung it toward his face, lodging it in his blood-red eye.
Preston sneered. “You’re right,” he said, loosening his grasp on Charles, who, weak from hunger or fear or both, collapsed to his knees. He slid the blade from his eye as if he felt nothing at all. Maybe he didn’t—maybe pain was but a distant memory for him and Nerissa. Maybe their borrowed half-lives didn’t offer nearly as much sensation or true life as they hoped. I cringed when he cast off the ice, his eye still attached. Nothing but a bloody, gaping hole remained in that socket as he stepped forward, lifting a hand toward me. He was like something from a nightmare, as awful as the demons surrounding us, clashing with the guards, slaughtering and consuming them. As terrifying as the animated skeletons using their bodies to fend off my friends. His remaining red eye glared at me with decades’ worth of hatred and bloodlust. “Part of our revenge on Silverfrost is ensuring none of the royal family live, that all taste death. You are our vengeance incomplete. But not now. You’ve served our purpose, and now you can watch in despair as your kingdom falls. We’ll leave your family for the beasts to feed on.” He kicked Charles, who gave a dull grunt in response, his glassy eyes staring up at me in horror.
I sent a blast of snowy air at Preston’s face, praying I could distract him even if I couldn’t kill him. In the next moment, I had another blade of ice in my hand poised to throw at his other eye.
Preston laughed. “Yes, wear yourself out. Your strength is already flagging. You’re not used to wielding this much magic for long.”
He was right—my muscles were trembling, my mind growing foggy with the effort to concentrate on calling on my power.
Somewhere, dimly, I was aware of lightning crackling, of more magic roiling within the room. Roots were cracking through stone, pushing through dirt and stone to tangle the limbs of demons. Someone was calling my name.
I tossed my ice dagger, but Preston dodged it smoothly. Before I could try to stall him with something else, he made a cutting motion with his wrist. There was an awful crack as the bone in my forearm snapped, white-hot pain searing up the entire length of the limb. My cry of pain sounded animalistic in my ears, half-drowned by the shrieks of underworld creatures and the shouts from fae suffering and dying around us.
“Ren!” Charles cried. His arms were still bound behind him, and he struggled to get his feet beneath him so he could rise.
There was nothing he could do for me now. Tears sprang into my eyes. There wasn’t anything I could do for him, either. Once I was dead, Preston and Nerissa would slay him in a blink, or leave him to be eaten alive by the terrifying monsters still pouring forth from the underworld. They’d used me, knowing my heart would never allow me to do anything else than protect someone more helpless than myself, and yet I’d failed Charles anyway.
Perhaps it would have been more merciful to let them snap their fingers and kill him earlier than force him to endure all of this.
My retaliating magic was half-hearted, a sheet of glistening ice that formed between Preston and me instead of encasing his arm as I’d intended. There was too much agony scattering my thoughts, and I was already weary.
He sneered, lifting his hand again, and I braced myself for the inevitable. Either he would consume me with more pain, taking his time tormenting me until I died, or he would end it all right there, breaking my every bone or sloughing off my flesh.
But instead of searing pain, there was nothing. Preston cried out, his concentration broken, and fell backward, skidding across the ice.
Charles was sprawled on the ground. In desperation, he must have given up trying to stand, and instead, he’d managed to throw enough strength into a kick with his bound legs to knock Preston off his feet.
I knew we only had seconds. With my magic feeling distant, as if forget-me-nots clung to me instead of exhaustion, I pulled on it one last time, begging for enough power. The ice answered, flowing upward from the ground like a living thing and encasing Preston’s limbs, locking him in place.
He roared in fury, his face contorting with his rage. I staggered backward, reaching for Charles to help him up, as storm clouds tumbled into view, permeating the room in shadows punctuated by flaring purple lightning. The hairs on my arms rose in response, but I wasn’t afraid. I was elated.
Help had come. They must have broken past the skeletal army.
“Starlight.” The familiar voice was close to my ear as Garrick grasped my arm, gently pressing the hilt of a hunting knife into my hand.
“Garrick,” I murmured, “you have to—”
But he was already moving, brushing a swift kiss to my forehead and then darting away under cover of the thick clouds, vanishing back into the recesses of the catacombs before Preston or Nerissa could see and take control of him.
They can bind me to their orders, such as the one that will never allow me to let you escape, even when they’re nowhere nearby, Garrick had explained to me, along with the Ashwoods, last night. But they can’t use my body as a weapon unless I’m within sight.
Then you must stay out of their sight, Elle had proclaimed matter-of-factly.
Despite knowing that Garrick would have to stay back, fending off demons as they slipped past our friends and me to ravage through the castle, it was still a comfort to know he was fighting on our side, never too far away. Gratifying to think that he was defying Preston and Nerissa after all the ways they’d used and abused him.
Now, as my eyes adjusted to the blanketing darkness, I turned to Charles, hurriedly slicing through the ropes binding his arms and legs. “What—is—happening?” he panted, breathless either from fear or his exertion after his imprisonment.
Don’t open the door. It was the most selfless request he’d ever asked of me.
And yet I had, perhaps damning us all to grisly deaths.
“Don’t worry,” I said, seizing his arm and dragging him behind me, away from the hulking form of a demon that was approaching us. “The ones who wield this storm magic are our friends.”
At that moment, Princess Elle dashed into view, clouds and lightning swirling around her in an intimidating, awe-inducing display. There was no fear on her face as she leapt between us and an oncoming demon, brandishing a blade sparking with electricity. But Prince Fitz was beside her in an instant, his usually cold expression etched into something bloodthirsty as he watched the creature charging for his wife.
I took this reprieve to whirl on Charles, seizing his shoulder with my good hand. My other hung limply at my side, the constant pain filling my mind with haze. “You have to run,” I urged. “Find a horse and ride hard to Altidvale. Warn the citizens. Nowhere is safe, not until I can find a way to banish all these demons and stop Nerissa and Preston’s plans, but the farther away you get, the more time you’ll have until I can find a way to win.”
Despite the exhaustion painted on his face, there was a fire in Charles’s eyes. “I’m not abandoning you again, Ren.”
“There’s nothing you can do.” Tears pricked my eyes. “You’re sick and tired. I don’t know what awful things they did to you—but I can imagine. And neither they nor the underworld creatures can be killed.” My throat tightened, but I forced my words past the building sob. “I can’t watch them harm you, little brother. I love you. Go and find safety. I pray the gods show mercy on us—on the world—and that I can protect us. That I’ll see you again, someday.”
“Ren...”
“Don’t argue with me!” I shoved him, a little more firmly than I’d meant to.
He staggered back, his complexion pale, his eyes awash with remorse and horror and grief. “I can’t...”
“You can,” I insisted. “You didn’t listen to me before, but you can in this one thing. This is all I want you to do. Please. For me.”
My eyes darted toward the clearing clouds, lifting enough to give us a better view of our enemies—but unfortunately, it also gave them a better view of us. The entrance to the catacombs was clogged with piles of bones, the remains of the corpses Preston and Nerissa had animated, and already demons were pressing through it. I knew Garrick waited for them on the other side, that he would do everything in his power to hold them off. Even still, it wouldn’t be easy for Charles to run past them.
“Before you lose your chance!” I begged.
Across the room, Nerissa prowled away from one of her former guards, dropping his mangled body. Blood smeared her mouth and chin, a clear sign she’d been consuming his flesh to feed off his life, and the urge to vomit pummeled into me. I stood my ground, fisting my one good hand as my mind screamed at me to gather enough energy to draw on the light flowing through my veins. The light that would be enough to not only repel the demons ravaging through the living, but to also stop her.
But Nerissa was faster, her magic quick to respond. With a flick of her fingers, her bloody gaze latched onto Charles. The snap of bone pierced the air and my half-brother crumpled to the stone floor. He gasped, too overcome with misery to even cry out as he clutched his contorted leg.
I shrieked as Nerissa strolled forward, passing demons and fae mid-fight as if they were nothing. A dagger sliced through the air and lodged in her neck, but she didn’t pause as she wrenched it free, leaving a bloody hole behind, one that swiftly knit itself back together. She discarded the blade carelessly, her focus single-mindedly on Charles and me. I stepped between the two of them, pouring every ounce of my fury into my effort to call forth my magic.
An icy breeze tugged through my hair, tiny snowflakes grazing my nose.
Dismay clutched my chest. This was what was left of my power? I’d hoped after the avalanche I’d unleashed mere days after learning I had magic, that the time I’d practiced in the castle with forget-me-nots would have rendered me a little more adept and granted me more endurance. But my mind was fractured with agony, guilt, and fear.
Worse, I sensed the ice I’d encased Preston within was starting to dissolve, the way I could sense my own body’s movements. My mind was releasing the magic I’d crafted, its strength shattering.
And perhaps that was why the demons surrounding us didn’t even bother to approach—because they knew that Preston and Nerissa were both able to dispatch of the only person who was a true threat to any of them.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Preston converging on me, his strides as assured as his sister’s. Neither made a move to use their death magic yet, and I knew why. They were drawing out these final moments, relishing the pain and terror that was doubtlessly etched across my face. They were enjoying their vengeance as they rained their bloodthirst and hatred on the one surviving member of the family they so despised.
Then they were mere feet from me, staring me down with their cold, death-like gazes. Nerissa flicked her wrist. The bones of my right hand fractured, each flare of red-hot fire making my stomach twist with nausea. I couldn’t hold back my ragged cry, my throat raw from my animal scream.
Vague sounds informed me that Charles was attempting to rise, still trying to fight for me when all I wanted him to do was lie down and stay out of the siblings’ notice. To survive. I caught sight of Aspen in her larger form grappling with a skeletal-looking creature, dodging adeptly to avoid its strikes. Prince Holden was calling upon vines to entrap demons as they charged. Princess Elle and Prince Fitz were back-to-back, holding their own against a group of guards who remained loyal to Nerissa and Preston, as well as a cluster of oncoming underworld creatures.
And rebels—rebels everywhere, fighting, bleeding, dying.
Somewhere outside, Garrick and other rebels were doing their best to hold back the tide of creatures flowing from the room. There was an unending stream of them emerging from the yawning entrance. Who knew how many thousands of furious, tormented souls and ravenous demons had been awaiting a moment like this for millennia?
I was alone against Preston and Nerissa, their fury, and their immunity to death itself.
With shaking fingers, I lifted my good hand, still clutching the knife Garrick had gifted me, and sliced open the palm of my mangled one. Scarlet bloomed across my pale skin as I ran the broad side of the blade through it, layering it in my blood. My strongest weapon.
Preston sneered, but Nerissa realized my intention a moment before I hurled the blade. She darted to the side. It was Preston who received the full brunt of it, the knife striking his forearm. He flinched away as if burned, and light flared. My light.
Hope blossomed, but only for an instant. The knife skittered across the floor, and with an angry hiss, Preston lifted the edge of his cloak to smear the blood off his skin, as if it continued to sting as long as it touched him.
But seeing both my light and my blood reminded me of what I could do. And somehow, I didn’t think I’d have to touch them to hurt them...not if I commanded the full strength of the light glowing within me. I’d been born to command and chain these creatures. Born to protect this world. Born to hold these forces at bay and force them to yield to my will.
I just needed my weary mind to concentrate on that, and not on the throbbing sensation running through my wrist and fingers, or the nausea dancing along my tongue.
With a cry, I lifted my hand, palm out, willing my light to shine. To flare. To overpower every ounce of darkness in this room.
Preston laughed and snapped his fingers. I choked on a sob and collapsed, my ankle twisted unnaturally beneath me. “We could do this all night,” he taunted. “Break every bone in your body. See how much pain you can endure before you succumb to death...or before you beg for it.”
Another snap. Another flash of pain. More bones in my leg splintered. A keening sound mingled with the shouts of battle and groans of agony as others died around me, and it took me a moment to realize that the noise was coming from my own aching throat.
With every piece of strength left in me, I forced the agony away, shoving it to the back of my mind. Lifting my hands, I called on my winter magic, imagining countless daggers of ice raining upon the siblings, shredding them until even their undead bodies collapsed, too broken to be useful in this world. Too ruined to be a threat ever again.
Agony roared through my body as Nerissa gestured and broke another of my bones. I choked on a sob.
“Starlight.” There was a growl of pure, animalistic rage as Garrick—in his wolf form—launched forward, canines flashing as he charged for Nerissa.
My mind screamed at him to run, even if I couldn’t blame him for rushing out to my aid. I wouldn’t have been able to hold myself back either if I’d seen them tormenting him, heard him scream as I had.
Nerissa’s eyes widened in surprise, flicking between Garrick and me.
The ice answered my call, hurtling toward the air with the force of a hundred archers shooting at once, heeding me in my most desperate need.
And then Garrick altered his course, his movements turning stiff and graceless at the same moment that Preston and Nerissa dropped to the floor. My daggers of ice slammed into him, piercing fur and flesh. Splattering blood across the stone as the wolf crashed into a heap, motionless.