Chapter 51
Fifty-One
Sorin
Roman struggles against me as I hold his back to my chest. The blade’s on the ground, just out of reach.
I squeeze him tighter. “Would you stop it?”
“No.” He bites my hand.
I drop my hold, pushing him off me. “Did you just bite me?”
“You wouldn’t let me go.”
Sighing, I run a hand down my face and push past him, making a conscious effort not to look at the bed while I head for the door.
I’m two steps away, when I hesitate. Turning, I locate my blade on the ground but don’t bother trying for it. If Roman really wished to hurt himself, he’d find a way. “Call off your guard.”
He licks his lips, before glancing at the window. “And what makes you think they’ll listen to me?”
I step toward him again, my peripherals catching on a lock of blonde to my left, making my stomach twist. “You are the King of Teravie,” I say, “so fucking act like it.”
He flinches before something passes over his face. As if he has forgotten who he is the whole time. Forgotten what power comes from such a title. What privilege. Forgotten that, despite what he’s done, he has the control to reshape the future.
He smooths his dark hair back, straightens his shirt. “I’ll go now.”
A horn sounds from outside, loud enough to have Roman and I both flinching.
What the fuck was that?
We both dart to the window, and when I see Elora and Sam in shackles, my heart stops.
“Fuck,” I mutter, pulling an arrow from my quiver.
“You’ll never?—”
My arrow slices through the air. Soaring impossible lengths, until it lands in the back of a guard, dropping him to his knees.
“Call them off now, Roman.” My heart races as I head for the door but it’s kicked open before I reach it. A guard is there at the threshold.
“Your Majesty,” he says, peering around me. “We—” He pauses when his eyes snag on Galen on the bed.
“You were just who I was coming to find, Stefan,” Roman says. “Call off the rest of the men. This is over.”
“You killed him,” Stefan says, dismissing Roman’s orders. “Or was it you?” He turns his attention to me, and before I can grab an arrow, he pulls his sword and lunges. I jump back but fumble, falling to the ground.
“Drop your weapon!” Roman steps forward. “That was a direct?—”
Stefan turns his attention from me, swinging toward Roman.
“You really think I’ll listen to you,” Stefan says, lunging again. Roman dodges, his eyes wide. “You would be nothing if not for him and this is how you repay him.” He swings his sword, nicking Roman’s arm.
Jumping to my feet, I forgo my bow and instead reach for the dagger. Stefan has Roman cornered. His sword is angled for Roman’s heart, and as he pushes it down, I reach him, slicing through his uniform, right between his ribs.
Gasping, he spins toward me, eyes aflame but face blanched.
I yank my blade out of his side and am ready to end his life when he tackles me, sending me backward. My dagger falls to the ground, and I scramble to reach it but Stefan pulls me back. He screams, clutching his side but he somehow finds his sword, the cool metal pressing against my neck.
I reach for my knife again, but Stefan’s blade pushes against my sternum.
“Enough of this!” Roman shouts.
Stefan raises his sword, aiming for my heart, but when he lunges to plunge it into me, Roman jumps between us, taking the brunt of the hit.
His body falls on mine, the blade protruding from his chest.
“No.”
I’m trapped under him as Stefan pulls the blade free. Blood pools from Roman’s chest as I roll him off of me.
The guard laughs, clutching his side. “You’d swear fealty to that?” He snarls in Roman’s direction, whose face is pale, his body crumpled on the floor. “Always been spineless, even with Galen by his side.”
He raises his sword again, but I don’t give him another moment to speak before I sling my dagger forward, landing it directly in his eye. He screams, dropping his sword, grappling for the dagger. His movements are too stunned, and I finish him off with a swift puncture to his throat.
I scramble back to Roman’s side. His entire abdomen is soaked in blood, his eyes fighting to stay open. “Let me help you.” I reach for the amulet in my pocket. “I can fix this.”
His hand wraps around mine. “Don’t,” he says. His breaths are labored, his green eyes hardly open. “Let me do one good thing. Amidst all of the terrible—” He closes his eyes, a tear slipping down his cheek. “Let me do one good thing.”
He pats my hand, so I remove it from my pocket, leaving the amulet inside.
“No more taking what isn’t mine.” He shakes his head, more tears streaming down his face. I cup the back of his head, trying to angle him better so he can breathe.
“I’m sorry I didn’t know you,” I say and for whatever reason I mean it.
The wolves howl from outside and my body goes rigid.
Elora.
“I was never great company anyway.” Roman smiles again, but this time it’s weak and broken. “Go.”
“I won’t leave you here.” I shake my head. “Not like this.”
He pushes my hand away, more blood rushing from the wound in his stomach.
If only he’d let me use the amulet to heal him… I glance to where the other necklace lies across the room.
“This is where I belong, Sorin.” His eyes close, his chest slowing. He takes another slow and labored breath. “I’m not a good person. I’m not like you.”
“You could be,” I say. “I see it?—”
“No.” He shakes his head, a small wince escaping his lips. “Do you know what most people would do when faced with evil?”
The blaring horn sounds again from outside. I swallow against the thickness in my throat as his eyes meet mine.
“They’d turn and run for their lives. And do you know what I did?”
I shake my head, ignoring the blood soaking through to the floor.
“I leaned in and kissed evil goodnight.”
He laughs but it’s quiet and broken. “You and I are not the same, and I’m glad for it.” He closes his eyes again, his face somehow paler than before. “Besides, I’m not afraid of death.”
My chest cracks as his breathing falters. “No?” I ask and a faint smile curls up the sides of his lips.
“No,” he whispers, “because in death, I’ll finally be free.”
I wait several more moments by Roman’s side. Wait for his breathing to increase and his eyes to open.
They never do.
When his chest falls for the final time, I pull two coins from the bedside table and place them over his eyes.
I scoop up the other amulet and shove it in my pocket, not willing to risk it being left for anyone to find.
With a final look at Galen and then at Roman, I slip from the room with a new determination in my steps.
I need to find my wife.
By the time I make it to the courtyard, it’s empty aside from the bodies of bloodied and mutilated guards. My stomach churns, hands trembling as I nock an arrow.
“Elora!” My voice echoes back to me, and as my knees begin to give out, a familiar voice drifts through the courtyard.
“Sorin.”
I spin toward the east.
There she is. Running toward me, blood staining her face and clothes, hair unbound, flowing behind her.
Six wolves in tow.
My queen.
My heart.
The other half to my soul.
She collides into me, her arms wrapping around my neck. My fingers tangle in her hair as I breathe her in. “You’re okay, love?”
She nods, still pressed firmly against me. “You?”
“I’m okay.” I run my fingers through her hair, down her back, and up again before she finally lets me go. Despite the constant rain, blood still coats her face and under her nails. “Sam and Jarek? The others?”
“Everyone is safe, at least I think.” She brushes my hair from my forehead. “Roman?”
I bite my tongue. “He’s gone.”
Her brows pinch, a wash of worry sweeping across her face.
“Galen is dead. Roman got to him before I did and Roman he?—”
Elora’s body stiffens, her hands gripping tighter across my back.
“He saved my life.”
She leans away just far enough so I can see her face. “I’m sorry.”
Shaking my head, I twist my finger around her loose hair. “Do you think we’ve done it? Have we stopped the blight?”
Her brow furrows. “Not yet,” she says and I don’t question how she knows. “You and I together were sent back here to heal Teravie. To protect it. To ensure that no harm comes to Enchantresses.”
I nod, unable to speak for the first time perhaps in my entire life.
“If Roman killed Galen, would that mean we failed?” she asks.
“No.” Sera joins us. Her arms are crossed, a smile tugging at her lips. “Glad you made it, heir.” She pats my shoulder, giving Elora a quick nod.
“And how would you know of ending the blight?” Elora asks.
“When you’ve been imprisoned long enough, there’s not much else to do other than learn. Read. Listen to others.” She steps closer, grabbing my hand, then Elora’s. “I sensed you out here, I just left the council room.” She glances between Elora and myself. “You two are the very soul of Teravie, not just Bastian and Soleil. But the soul of our country.”
She clasps our hands together and a sting shoots up my palm from where we sliced our flesh open in the Wicked Wood.
“You made a vow to protect us, so do it.” She gestures to our hands. “And when you’re finished, the council is waiting for you. The Lords of Jade and Onyx got to them before I did. Found them hiding in the cellars.” She saunters back to the castle, holding her hands out to the pouring rain.
After she’s gone, it’s just Elora and I in the courtyard. A breeze blows past us, bringing saltwater and brine from the nearby coast. “What do we need to do, love?”
“Blood and bone,” she whispers. “We gave our blood to the Wicked Wood to close it, maybe that’s what we need to do here.” Her eyes are frantic, glancing past me. “There.”
She points over my shoulder so I turn. And there, in the middle of the courtyard is a well, carved deep into the stone ground. She pulls me toward it and unease washes over me.
I’ve been here before.
As we stand before the well, she grabs the blade from my hip, reopening the wound on her hand. She winces, before holding it out for me. “Your turn.” I hesitate but she grabs my hand before I can argue. She slices along the barely healed wound from earlier. “Blood.”
“What about bone?” Blood trickles from my hand, pooling into my palm.
“The magick,” she says. “We give it back.”
I pull the amulets from my pockets and set one of them in her palm.
I wrap Roman’s amulet in my hand, the buzzing of magick thrumming against my skin.
“Take my hand, husband.” Elora smiles as I slide my free hand in hers. The blood of her body, the bone of the many Enchantresses killed, and the blood of my own.
Angling our hands over the well, a few droplets land, stirring the black water below. Elora whispers something, a prayer, a plea, I can’t be certain before she opens her hand, letting the amulet fall to the bottom.
I do the same.
The gold chain flashes briefly before it splashes into the water, disappearing into the murky pool. The breeze from before stops, the sudden stillness clawing at my skin and all at once, the rain ceases.
Mine and Elora’s breathing is the only noise between us until a bubbling sounds from the bottom of the pool. Peering over the ledge, I see our blood staining the stone as the water below hisses and spits. I almost tell Elora it’s time to run when a figure rises from the water.
Holding my breath, I glance at Elora whose eyes are wide, but her lips are turned up.
A woman rises from the pool, her long, flowing hair the color of moss. Her jade eyes vibrant against her dark skin. When she smiles, thousands of tiny, purple flowers erupt over her body, covering her from breast to foot.
“You called to me, daughter,” the woman says, her voice like birdsong and honeybees.
“Mother Gaia.” Elora gasps, dropping to her knee. I do the same, my head spinning. “Forgive us,” she whispers. “See our sacrifice and?—”
“You came back,” Gaia says, her long limbs reaching for Elora. She tucks her finger under Elora’s chin, tilting her head up. “When I needed you most, you came back.” The Mother smiles. Butterflies land on her shoulders, fluttering into her hair. “You have freed me. Freed them.”
She sweeps her hand across the courtyard where hundreds of gold flecks of light spiral into the sky.
“Spirits. Enchantresses,” Gaia says, turning her attention back to Elora. “Never forget who you are.”
She brushes her finger along Elora’s cheekbone, a tiny sprig sprouting from the back of her hand. When she pulls away, a new stone has been placed around Elora’s neck.
Gaia sweeps her arms again and she, too, disappears into the wind.
The bleak sky breaks with the promise of sun, the birds chirp, and as I take my wife’s hand, that piece of myself that belongs only to her sings.
Inside the council room, my stomach sloshes and my hands can’t decide where to rest.
My pockets?
Too casual for a king.
My hips?
Ridiculous.
Elora must notice my fidgeting because she takes one and my shoulders relax. Our bandages wrapped around our freshly sliced wounds are still tinted pink with blood.
This. This is the perfect place for my hand.
A council woman with dark hair cropped close to her scalp gestures for us to sit. When I do, I realize it’s not just the council. Thaddeus, Calix, Oletta, and Mordona sit on the opposite end.
“When did you?—”
Thaddeus raises interrupts, raising an ancient hand. “A story for another time.”
“Sorin Rudhek,” the councilwoman from before says, “the Guilds have provided us with your official decree of birth.” She pulls a pair of tiny spectacles from her pocket, slips them on, before taking out the piece of parchment I’ve memorized since I was fifteen. “On this day, the twelfth day of Summer, Celia Aisling has given birth to a son to be named after his father’s great, great grandfather; Sorin Rudhek III.”
She glances at me over the paper, my hands slick with sweat but Elora doesn’t drop them.
“By the country of Teravie, King Silas Rudhek and Celia Aisling claim this child as their own.” She sets the parchment down, placing her spectacles on top before folding her hands. “And you are Sorin Rudhek IV?”
It’s difficult to swallow, even more difficult to speak but somehow I find a way. “Yes.”
Murmurs and whispers sound from the other council members but the woman’s gaze remains on me.
“And are the rumors true?” She drops her voice low and the murmurs around the table begin to quiet. “Are you who they say? King Bastian and Queen Soleil?”
Elora’s grip tightens around mine as she clears her throat. “Yes,” she says, more surety in that one word than I’ve heard in her voice ever before. I don’t know why but it fills me with pride. “Their souls live on. In us.” She glances at me and heat rises to my cheeks.
“Gentleman,” the councilwoman says, demanding the attention of each of the other members. They give her a nod, as if their decision has been made long before I arrived. “From this moment forth, Sorin Rudhek IV, shall take his place as the rightful heir to Teravie.”
My chest deflates, the pent up air finally spilling from them, and for a moment, I wonder if I’m dreaming. If I somehow made this entire moment up. Surely this can’t be real? After everything we’ve gone through?—
Elora squeezes my hand, bringing me to the present.
“Thank you, councilwoman,” I manage to say. She nods, reclining in her chair. “Thank you, all.”
The other members seem less impressed but I catch Mordona and Oletta’s eye, their promise for payment for their aid ringing in my mind. The council members stand, raising their glasses before them.
“To Sorin Rudhek,” they say. “Long live the king!”