Chapter 38
The screams reach us as we climb the spiral steps to the tower of moths.
The door at the top is ajar, and when Nalina pushes it open, the sounds from the battlefield grow louder.
They reverberate off the stone walls, echoing and multiplying.
I glance to the rafters, but they’re bare now, the moths dead and crunched underfoot on the battlefield below.
The Dead Queen stands, looking out an open window. Beyond her, the rain has stopped and the storm clouds have dissipated. Night has fallen, and she’s haloed in the light of a full moon. Her face is barely visible through the sheer veil. Nalina and I stand beside her to view the carnage below.
The moonlight illuminates the chaos on the battlefield.
Moribund multiplies before our eyes. His form doubles and triples until there are hundreds of him in the muddy field—all bent-backed, sallow-skinned creatures with long nails and wide eyes.
He keeps true to his word. Each of his illusions tears Fox Soldiers limb from limb, but they only attack those in copper armor.
The remaining Gwyllion fighters watch in horror.
As we watch, my heart stills in my chest. Tristan and Hunter might still be alive down there. I send silent thanks to the old gods that Hunter didn’t wear his copper armor for this battle. If he had, he’d be dead.
I grip the stone edge of the tower window, my breath lodged somewhere behind my aching ribs.
Below, the remaining Fox Soldiers try to run.
Moribund’s illusions attack, quick and unrelenting.
One lunges and a man loses his face. Another rips open a ribcage with his bare hands.
Another sinks its claws into a soldier’s cheeks before he can even scream.
The man’s jawbone shatters, teeth scattering like lost coins in the mud.
I want to look away, but my body refuses to move.
Of course, I knew the fae were powerful, but I had no experience with the sheer magnitude of that power.
How easily a creature like Moribund carries that weight, like it’s nothing at all to kill a man, or a hundred.
It’s sickening yet wondrous to behold. Now I can see why ancient humans both feared and worshiped the fae. And why they snuffed them out.
Further out on the battlefield, another Moribund leaps, landing on top of a man twice his size.
The soldier’s armor splits apart beneath black-nailed fingers.
Moribund reaches up into the gaping hole and pulls.
Something red and glistening spills out, trailing strings of sinew.
Moribund doesn’t even look at it, just tosses it aside and moves on to the next terrified soldier.
Somewhere in the chaos, Tristan might be bleeding. Hunter might already be dead. For the first time in my life, I close my eyes and send a silent prayer to the old gods. I beg for Hunter and Tristan to survive this night.
Beside me, the queen watches with interest.
“You knew, didn’t you?” I say, turning toward her. “You knew Nalina brought be down to Moribund. You knew about her deal.”
“Of course.” She says this as if it’s nothing. Like giving a once-beloved granddaughter to a monstrous fae is just the sort of thing a queen does on a daily basis. I’d be furious if I weren’t so damn tired. If I weren’t so relieved to see the tides turn on the battlefield.
“I try not to make deals with the fae unless absolutely necessary.” The Dead Queen says as she watches Moribund devour men below.
“It’s not honorable to trick allies, even begrudging ones.
He doesn’t care if humans live or die, but now that we’ve used him, he will hold that grudge for a long time. Longer than any of us will exist.”
“Will it come back to haunt you?” I ask.
“Most certainly.”
We watch the horror for a long moment before the Dead Queen sighs. “He’s always been a gifted illusionist.” Her voice is reflective. “It’s a shame he’s only motivated by lust. Otherwise, he’d be a magnificent fighter in the borderlands.”
Nalina scoffs. “He’d never fight for Annwyn. He only cares about his own hide. That and his precious blondes.”
The queen shrugs. “What are human concerns to a creature as ancient as Moribund?”
Nalina scoffs. “He’s a selfish, disgusting beast, and we never should’ve made a deal with him for this wretched castle. It’s filled with nothing but misery and ghosts.”
The Dead Queen doesn’t respond. She stands, her eyes closed peacefully, as if relishing the sound of her enemy’s violent demise.
Down below, I don’t miss the fact that several Moribunds pocket locks of blonde hair from fallen soldiers.
I cringe, and my hand shoots up toward my short hair on instinct.
“Will he go back to the dungeons?” My voice is less steady than I’d like it to be.
“Oh, he’ll crawl back into the dark.” Nalina scoffs. “He likes it down there, as much as he hems and haws about needing sacrifices to keep him away.”
“He’s not a magnanimous creature,” the queen says. “He will kill us all if we don’t keep up our end of the deal.”
“Then why haven’t you killed him first?” I turn to her, wide-eyed with disbelief. “Why sacrifice your own people when you have the power to kill him with a glance?”
The Dead Queen stills. “For one, without him, this castle would crumble around our ears. It’s his magic that keeps it standing.”
“There must be another way.”
“There isn’t.” She turns to look at me. “Moribund has lived on this land longer than memory itself. We are not worthy of banishing him from it.” She straightens her spine. It crackles like stones underfoot. “And besides that, we do not kill the fae. We live in harmony with them.”
“Harmony?!” I blanch, astounded. I point out toward the blood-soaked, moonlit battle below. “You call that ‘harmony’?”
The Dead Queen’s voice is sharp. “Don’t pretend to understand Annwyn’s ways simply because you’ve lived here for a season.”
I glower at her. “So, you’ll keep feeding him innocent women? After all they’ve done to fight for Gwyllion? You’d still sacrifice them to that monster?”
“That monster is a fae.” The Dead Queen’s voice echoes off the stone and rafters around us. “They may be curious creatures, even cruel, but they are not, in fact, monsters. They do not understand righteousness. They know only how to satiate their own cravings.”
“Forgive me if I don’t see much of a difference.”
“That’s because you are a Fox,” she says coolly. “Your ancestors ruled for hundreds of years believing they were better than everyone and everything else.”
My mouth snaps shut.
The Dead Queen looks back toward the battlefield, where very few Fox Soldiers remain. Moribund’s illusions make quick work of them, then pop out of thin air, as if evaporating. Eventually, only one Moribund remains. He scans the blood-soaked battlefield, then looks up toward the moth tower.
I stiffen.
As if he sees me, he grins, his tiny teeth glowing in the moonlight. He pulls something out of his loincloth and runs it beneath his nose slowly. I know in my gut that it’s my hair, even though he’s too far away for me to see it. Dread pools low in my stomach.
Then, in a blink, the final Moribund is gone.
“I daresay he’s satiated for a little while, at least,” Nalina says.
I’m not so sure.
Down below, the last of Gwyllion’s fighters walk among the carnage, checking to ensure each Fox Soldier is dead.
I wouldn’t bother. Moribund doesn’t seem the type to be sloppy about murder.
Someone begins collecting swords and armor.
No doubt they’ll be reused in the borderlands. A haunting laugh escapes my chest.
Imagine that, Fox copper claimed to benefit the Dead Queen and Annwyn. My ancestors must be turning in their graves.
A thought ripples through my mind, too timid to creep out from the shadows. Too afraid to hope it’s true … We won.
Gwyllion suffered terrible loss, but the castle survives to stand another day. The people of Annwyn are safe. For now.
My smile fades as I remember my father. I lean forward, half out the window as I scan the moonlit field below. I don’t have to look too far.
In the distance, on the crest of that damnable hill, an orb of light hovers. My father remains perched upon his white horse. His copper banner waves in the breeze. There are only a handful of King’s Guards at his side, those he kept back from the fight for his own protection.
“That coward,” I growl.
“And what did you expect?” Nalina asks. “He’s a Fox. He would rather run than fight like a Wolf.” Her voice is edged with steel.
I whirl on her. “Why didn’t Moribund kill him?”
“Because your father isn’t a threat to Gwyllion while he’s out there on his stallion.” Nalina’s voice is laced with contempt. “The deal was to protect the castle. The Fox King isn’t attacking.”
“He’s waiting.” The Dead Queen’s voice is cold.
“For me,” I say. I know it in my bones.
Beneath her veil, the Dead Queen nods.
Good. A vicious grin spreads across my face. “I’m going to kill him now.” My voice is firm, certain. If I’ve learned one thing this winter, it’s this: I am a force to be reckoned with, even without my power.
The Dead Queen nods again.
“I’m coming with you.” Nalina steps forward, unsheathing her sword.
I shake my head. “No.”
“No?” she asks, as if she’s not sure she heard me correctly. She shakes her head. “This isn’t about vengeance. It’s about the Fox Throne. You can’t inherit it if you’re dead.”
“I need you to trust me.”
Nalina turns to the Dead Queen. “My queen, it’s too risky.”
We both watch the Dead Queen, bathed in the light of the full moon.
“Please,” I whisper. “I need to do this. By myself.”
“Go,” she says finally. “Make your grandmother proud.” For the first time, I hear the echo of her true voice beneath the shroud of death. Even if it was only for a moment, I know I’ve finally heard the voice of my grandmother. And she’s telling me to kill the Fox King.
I grip my moth knife tighter in my fist and nod. Nalina doesn’t say another word as I walk out of the tower door to confront my father …
And finally kill him.