Chapter Thirty-Seven
Reyes scrambled to pull Solana’s hands back into his grip. “No,” he said, his fingers viselike around hers, unbreakable and unshakable. “This isn’t how it has to be, Solana.”
But Solana shook her head. She refused to have his blood on her hands, to know that her love had guided him straight to death’s bed. Reyes’s hands once again found her face, the pads of his thumbs wiping away the tracks of tears on her cheeks.
“From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew this would be the end of our story. I would die a thousand deaths beside you because I love you. This is not your choice, or a burden you will bear.” He slid his hands back to tangle into her hair.
“It is mine. Release me,” Reyes begged, sorrow and relief in his voice.
“It’s me or you, and I refuse to live in a world without you in it. ”
“I can’t do it,” Solana choked out.
“Yes, you can. You must.” Reyes placed his forehead against hers. “Together,” he whispered.
With that final word, he closed his eyes and shared with Solana the memories he had collected of her. The version of her he saw was fierce and determined and beautiful. A flurry of power that radiated through every smile she gave and soul she touched.
There were mundane memories and simple moments filled with so much admiration it hurt to witness. Hopes and dreams for their future once all of this was over. It was those images he chose to see in his final moments. It was the hope for her happiness that was worth dying for.
Solana would have died for it, too.
Around her, the world continued to fall apart. The strength of her people waned with every strike, every wound, every death. They were all willing to lay down their lives for this, for her. They had all lost so much and they would lose more—everything—without this sacrifice.
But the pain was unbearable, even as Reyes pulled her into his arms, as he used every point of contact to pour what remained of his gift into her, as he guided her toward life one last time.
A firm touch landed on her shoulder. Warmth seeped from the point of contact into her chest and deeper, into her well. She recognized the shape of Oskar’s gift like she recognized the shape of his face.
Another touch landed on her other shoulder, this one bright and evergreen like Cora’s eyes.
A hand on her head, and Suri’s gift pushed into her with a kind of blunt force that matched her personality.
They poured their strength into her, her fight becoming their fight.
Their gifts becoming her gift of life, of a second chance.
With it, she felt for the familiarity of Reyes’s blood and soul and called for his sister. Among the thousands of souls, one answered. A small muki appeared before her, and she saw and felt with her mind’s eye how it recognized Reyes. Beside her, his strength faltered.
“Isa,” she heard him whisper, the name as reverent as a prayer and a wish. Solana touched the strand of the curse that tied her to the land and burned it to ash. Isa’s body washed away in a cloud of tiny stars, her relief and gratitude lingering like the scent of a rich perfume.
Reyes’s hand tightened over her shoulder, another push of power, of love, and then Solana sought Sami’s and Nikolas’s and Masimu’s threads.
She didn’t take the time to call them to her, simply gathered their tethers in a hand and breathed a sigh of relief when they burned away. They were free, at last.
Finally, Solana reached deep to the root of the tethers, fingers curled around the heart of Supay, and lit it on fire with the strength of the hope of her people.
The fire spread and spread, a crisp red brighter than the sun that left behind a trail of ash in its wake.
It flowed over and through each of the muki, through every person born and nurtured by this land, whose roots were planted wide and deep.
It reached into the core of Supay and the himaya sprouting from it.
It neutralized and destroyed and remade what once was cursed into something new.
Something free.
The weight of Solana’s responsibility lifted from her shoulders between one breath and the next.
The thud of bodies and the cries of victory pierced the air.
But it was the heft of Reyes’s body that dragged Solana down to the ground.
The sand cradled them. The smoke of dying fires swirled with a harsh breeze.
Through it, the first rays of the true sun peeked through.
“Reyes,” Solana whispered, her lips close enough to his to touch with every exhale. “Open your eyes, Reyes. Stay with me.”
She dropped her forehead to his and breathed deeply as the sounds of swords clashing rent the air. How easy it would be to sink into death with him. How delicious a final rest would taste. This world needed her no longer, and she had nothing left to give.
“I told you I was useful.” Reyes’s deep voice washed over her. She jerked back in shock to find him smiling that familiar, lazy smile, the dimples in his cheeks on full display.
“Gods, Reyes.” With a laugh, Solana threw herself onto him.
He let out a sharp exhale and laughed with her, the sound bright and alive and the most beautiful thing she had ever heard.
His hand slipped to the back of her neck, and his lips found her forehead, then her cheeks, her jaw, her neck.
Quick, desperate kisses that marked her soul for life.
“If you’re done, we have a king to find.”
Solana snapped her eyes up and found the remnants of battle strewn around her. Shards of metal littered the ground, and himaya swirled in the air like ash. The stones in their blades had bled out from red to black, nothing but bits of earth once again.
But deep inside, Solana still felt her gift.
Through the smoke and ash and bits of dwindling chaos, Killian was nowhere to be found.
Moving slowly, Solana pushed herself onto her knees beside Reyes. “Killian’s gone,” she said through ragged breaths. “We have to find him.”
The muki were also gone, their bodies nothing but dust in the wind, which meant that Killian could no longer use them against anyone.
“He can’t have gone far,” she said aloud and began to collect her power at the forefront of her mind.
She did not know where exactly Killian was, but she could sense the essence of his gift like a trail of breadcrumbs left behind.
She clamped on to it, ready to find him and remove his head from his neck, but a hand slid around her wrist and grounded her.
“I’m coming with you,” Reyes said, eyes sparking in her shadows. A beacon of light. A guiding star.
There was enough power in her well to rift them both.
There would be none left to fight with, but she did not need the gods—their gifts or their curses—to defeat her enemy.
She would do it with the skills she had nurtured, the desperation she had been forced to bear, the pain of the losses she carried close to her heart, and the love she had gained through it all.
They landed hand in hand in the middle of Qhilli. People were cleaning blood off the stone and sweeping debris into corners. There were gasps as she appeared in a burst of shadows, but then they saw her through them and the whispers started.
That’s her, they said behind hands. That’s Solana the Cursebreaker.
Killian was nowhere to be seen, but she could feel him close by, running like a coward, afraid of the fate he knew was coming.
As if he could hide from her in these streets. She knew them better than her own mind.
It was the people who guided her with pointed looks and outstretched hands.
“He went that way,” one child said, the door to his home wide open behind him, another small face peeking out from around the doorframe.
They took their time as they followed directions, the whispers flowing before her to announce her presence.
There was shouting and metal clashing and then pounding footsteps.
Solana did not give chase. She simply strode ever forward, Reyes trailing to the side and slightly behind in a silent dance, hunting partners once again.
The streets of the callejon were winding. There was no specific path except the one made by buildings placed wherever they could fit. They were tall enough that it was impossible to see over them, and parts of the city gently sloped up and back down without rhyme or reason.
And some paths ended abruptly with no way out.
They wove past the buildings that stood tall despite their disrepair. Like her, they served and protected and provided. Their faces decorated the stone everywhere they looked. Savior, Traitor, Hunter, Healer. Proclamations that no longer meant anything at all.
They rounded a corner to find the street ahead empty and quiet.
A rock skittered across the ground, and then a figure cloaked in gray burst from a small gap between buildings.
Solana ducked, dodging a swipe at her neck, and Reyes lunged over her to impale their attacker on the end of his sword.
The man’s hood fell back to reveal a bald head and wide eyes, and then he slumped over.
Reyes gently lowered him to the ground and they stepped over his body, quiet and efficient and focused.
Another attacker came, and another died. They left a trail of bodies behind them as they went.
Eventually, there were no more. Only Killian and his frantic footfalls winding deeper into the maze of narrow streets that was the callejon.
Solana slowed to a walk, a victorious smile curling across her face. Reyes strolled beside her with all the confidence of a predator. She knew exactly what they would find when they rounded the next corner, but the truth of it was so much better than she could have anticipated.
“I am your king,” she heard Killian say. He sounded like a petulant child who hadn’t gotten his way.