Chapter 18 The Price of Freedom
The Price of Freedom
Raisa
The choice is poison, bitter and impossible to swallow. I want to scream, to tear at my hair, to throw myself at his feet and beg him to spare them, but I do none of those things.
Instead, I look at the seven men kneeling in a broken line. Their chests heave, every breath a labor.
I see the wild panic behind Sable’s smirk, and the way Talon’s hand twitches in the shackles as if he could break them through will alone.
I see Bran’s jaw clenched so tight his teeth might shatter, Rune trembling, and the twin trails of blood running down Grim’s ashen face. I see Onyx, barely clinging to life.
But it’s Shade I can’t look away from.
He’s on his knees, arms bound behind him, shoulders pulled so far back it’s a miracle nothing’s broken.
His head is bent at a strange angle, black hair slick with blood, but his eyes are locked on mine, steady and unflinching.
He doesn’t blink. Not once. It’s as if he’s holding me up through pure love, willing me to make the choice to save myself.
I swallow, my throat thick with bile.
My father is still talking, monologuing about destiny and legacy and the price of power, but I tune him out. I know, deep in my bones, that this is the end.
All those times he locked me in the tower to keep me away from my brothers—my ravens—was never because he was afraid they would kill me for what he did to them.
He was afraid they’d stop him from destroying me.
And he’ll kill them now, one by one in front of me, savoring every drop of terror and helplessness, to ensure that doesn’t happen.
And then, when I’m hollowed out and ruined, he’ll lock me back in that tower and keep me there until he’s ready to rip me open and pluck my soul away, using my body and my magic to contain his will.
Unless I stop him.
The magic stirs in my blood, a coil of smoke and lightning. It’s never been so clear, so loud, so eager to be used. It howls at the bars of my ribs, gnawing at my heart, hungry for violence. It wants to break the world open and rain fire down from above.
I look back at the men who gave me everything.
Onyx, my silent sentinel, who kissed the tears off my cheeks without asking what caused them, the only person I’ve ever felt truly safe with.
Sable, all sharp edges and stupid jokes, but the only one who truly understood my pain when the world went black.
Talon, who watched over me at night when I couldn’t sleep, who taught me what it was to hunt and kill and feel alive in the aftermath.
Bran, gentle and sweet and smarter than everyone in this room, even if he’d deny it until the day he died.
Rune, his fingers and tongue always searching for secrets in my skin, but who never took what I didn’t offer freely.
Grim, who saw the ugliest parts of me and loved them harder for it.
Shade, who gave me a reason to live when I didn’t know I needed one.
I look at them and I know, with an awful, perfect clarity, that there is nothing I wouldn’t give for them. My heart. My body. My future. Even my life.
And I see in their faces that they’d make the same choice, if they could.
I draw a slow, shaking breath and set my jaw.
My father sees the way my shoulders square, the way I no longer tremble. For the first time in my life, he looks nervous.
I close my eyes and find the raw, wild magic inside me. It’s a storm, alive and roaring, desperate to be loosed. I touch it, coax it forward, let it build until my skin vibrates with the force of it.
When I open my eyes again, the world is sharp as cut glass. The guards along the balcony raise their spears, uneasy. The ones at the brothers’ backs shift their feet, sensing something coming but not knowing what. Even my father steps closer, as if proximity alone can cow me.
“Do it,” he says, his voice tight with anticipation. “Make your choice, Raisa.”
I already did, the only choice that could be made.
It’s them. It’s always them, even unto death.
Dying is the easiest choice I’ve ever made, even if it hurts.
Sparks crackle at my fingertips as I let the magic thread through every inch of my body. My breath comes sharp and ragged, and every hair stands straight out from my skin.
I feel the seven of them in my blood, their souls a braided rope of need and fury and love, and I yank on it with everything I have left.
I don’t know how to do what I need, so I speak my wish to the forest, to the stars, and pray that something still listens.
“I wish for them to live,” I say.
The magic doesn’t just answer—it erupts. It’s a howl, a storm, a riot in my veins.
The air in the throne room goes thin and heavy at once, the pressure squeezing every chest, pulling at every muscle.
The guards on the balcony sway, some clutching their heads, their mouths open in silent screams.
My father’s lips pull back from his teeth in a snarl, not fear exactly, but the closest he’ll ever come.
I raise my hands, shaking, and aim them at the broken line of my brothers.
“You’re free,” I say, a command that shreds the air.
The chains binding them shatter with a sound like a hundred bells dropped from a cathedral. Metal shrieks, links flying everywhere, ricocheting off marble and flesh.
Half the guards nearest them are knocked flat, skidding across the stone in a tangle of armor and limbs.
My brothers stagger, every one of them blinking in disbelief, blood dripping from wrists that are already healing. My magic pours into them, blue and black and wild, knitting skin, resetting broken bones, filling their lungs with air that tastes like hope.
I feel the curse break—not in a neat snap, but in a million tiny fractures. The old magic splits and recoils, fighting for a moment before it gives up and dissolves. The scars on their bodies fade, all but the ones they want to keep.
Every single one of my brothers looks up, their eyes blazing, and I know they feel it too. It’s the first taste of freedom they’ve had in nineteen years.
My father feels it too. He lunges for me with his dagger raised high, desperate and wild. The madness and fury in his eyes show him for what he truly is—not human, not even a monster, but a kind of evil beyond saving.
I brace myself for pain, for death, for the oblivion I’ve always half-wished for, already grieving an eternity without the seven men who rule my whole world.
But they move faster than I ever could.
Rune, Grim, and Shade hit my father—no, not my father, not anymore—all at once.
Rune grabs the king’s wrist and twists. Bones snap with a sickening pop. The dagger clatters to the floor.
Grim drives his own stolen blade up, straight into the king’s side. He grins, murder etched across his face, and twists the knife. “You will never take her from us.”
Shade is the last. He moves with a grace that’s almost gentle, almost loving, as he wraps an arm around his neck and wrenches, hard. There’s a sickening crack, and the king collapses, his eyes rolling up as blood pours from his mouth.
They let his body drop as if it’s nothing.
Shade wipes his hands on the king’s cloak, then turns to me, something almost like a smile on his lips.
The room is silent except for the moans of dying guards.
I’m so lightheaded I nearly fall, but Onyx is there to catch me. His hands are gentle, one cradling my head, the other steadying my waist.
He lowers me to the floor, and the rest of them crowd around, their hands everywhere—checking, soothing, trying to put me back together with touch alone.
Sable presses his forehead to mine, his breathing wild. “You crazy, crazy girl,” he whispers, his voice thick with love and terror.
Talon pulls me into his lap, his arms banded tight around my ribs. His chest rumbles as he purrs, the sound low and endless.
Rune kneels, clutching my hand so hard it aches. He leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of my wrist. “You did it,” he says, and the awe in his voice is a living thing.
Bran, tears streaking down his face, tucks my hair behind my ear and holds my gaze as if he’s terrified to look away. “You saved us,” he murmurs, as if he still can’t believe it.
Grim nuzzles my neck, biting lightly at my collarbone. “Ours,” he growls, and I shiver.
Shade crouches last, his eyes dark and steady. He doesn’t touch me at first—just looks, as if he’s memorizing every scar, every freckle, every broken piece. Then he leans down and kisses my mouth, slow and deliberate, a seal on the new world we just made.
The rest of the guards have fled or are dead. The throne room is a tomb.
For a long moment, we just sit there in the ruins, breathing each other’s air, unwilling to move. My whole body trembles with exhaustion, but I’ve never felt so alive.
Eventually, Onyx lifts me, bridal-style, and the others fall in around us. Shade steps up to the dais, wiping the last of the blood from his chin. The throne is empty, my father’s crown lying at its foot.
He picks it up, turning it in his hands, then looks at me.
He doesn’t put it on his own head.
He kneels before me, holding the crown out, and the others follow suit, a ring of battered, beautiful men bowed at my feet.
My heart nearly stops.
I take the crown, my hands shaking. It’s heavier than it looks, as cold as death and studded with stones I never learned the names of. For a moment, I think about throwing it out the window. About melting it down and scattering the pieces.
But this kingdom has already done its worst to us. It’s caged us, destroyed us, and broken us, turning us into monsters. Maybe, for once, it’s time to let it mend and rebuild us, forging us into something new—not quite human, but not evil, either.
We’re the things that exist in the dark spaces between the two, the people who feast on blood and vengeance, but who still feel pain, who still know love. Who still feel hope beating like a wild thing in our hearts.
And the people like us—the monsters—they need a home, too.
We’re not breaking the world.
We’re building a new one.
I look at the seven faces before me, each one shining with the kind of faith I never thought I’d deserve. And I place the crown on my head.
The weight of it is nothing compared to the warmth that blooms in my chest.
“Rise,” I say, voice barely above a whisper.
They do.
Sable whoops, throwing his arms around me.
Talon lifts me off my feet in a spinning hug.
Rune buries his face in my hair, inhaling as if he can’t believe I’m real.
Bran kisses my fingers, then my lips, then my forehead.
Grim stands at my side, silent and proud, his hand on my shoulder.
Onyx takes my hand and holds it tight.
Shade just grins, finally, the first real smile I’ve ever seen on his face.
The room smells like blood and the hot, animal tang of death. But it smells like freedom, too.
I look down at my men, my monsters, and my saviors, and I know I’d do it all again.
Even if it kills me.
I reach out, stroking Onyx’s cheek, and feel the tears streaming down my own.
For the first time in my life, I feel like I belong.
Because, finally, I do.