44. Keira
W e march in a procession of warriors down the grand staircase, through the main foyer of the palace and toward the great balcony that overlooks the entire city below. Our forces have just finished clearing the space of the enemy, but the battle rages on below.
I shoot a glance at Aldrin. We both wear the golden crowns and matching capes of gold thread trimmed with white fur that Basil brought to us as soon as the palace was secure.
Apparently the butler and spy hid the entire royal family jewels when Titania first took the throne.
I prefer to focus on their symbolism rather than the corpse before us, still leaking droplets of blood upon the ground.
Titania’s body has been trussed up on a thick log taken from the Wisteria of Mythanar, one arm tied up over her head and the other with its hand fused around the dagger in her chest. Her body and legs are bound up by coils of vines and the entire log is constructed so it can be hung from the balcony rail.
A display to the entire city that the tyrant is dead and the fight is over.
Cyprien and Cedar carry it between them.
The moment we reach the edge of the balcony and the soldiers below witness not only their dead High Chancellor, but Aldrin and I crowned with hundreds of soldiers flanking us, Titania’s forces break.
Truth Templars and Wildrose Guards alike flee, knowing there is no place for them under our rule.
Our warriors pursue them, but my king and I have a greater purpose.
We should search the entire city for Torin before we announce Titania’s death.
He will escape and we will lose him. I grind my teeth at the thought.
How many times have I dreamed of meeting his cruelties with justice?
Of making sure he never hurts another? While Titania may have spewed venom about Winter fae, low fae and humans, Torin was the force that actively persecuted them and encouraged so many others to join in.
Given the same power as his mother, I have no doubt Torin would be the greater monster.
I see red when I think of him getting away and my stomach knots up at the thought of what he will do next.
I need his death like I need air.
Look, dear heart. Look at our people in the streets below, Aldrin says gently. At the violence, death and destruction that consumes them. At how many homes burn. They are in pain. We must end it. Torin is already lost. There is no finding him out in the city, though we will try.
I hate that he is right.
It isn’t like me to be selfish. To become consumed by rage or bloodlust. But my time as a prisoner in the Spring Court has peeled back all my softness and left only the hard edges that were always beneath.
The rage at injustice, without the need to give the benefit of the doubt or understand other people’s terrible actions.
When Leonardo told us that he returned to the throne room after reviving us, only to discover that Torin had become so confident in their win and his mother’s safety that he took a regiment of Truth Templars out into the street to revel in the fighting and lead the masses to exterminate any resistance, I almost combusted.
Even now, the need to leap upon a dragon and scour the streets for him myself is overwhelming.
But I am not a soldier anymore, or even a rebel leader.
I am a queen and I need to bring peace back to my people.
That much is abundantly clear from the sight below.
Dawn breaks over the horizon, bleeding silver light across the city, and still the people fight.
The streets are dripping with red, blocked by churning, thrashing bodies that hack into each other.
It must be an absolute nightmare to be locked within that battle, with nowhere to go to escape it, because every other street looks the same.
Everywhere I look, people are at war. Smoke still billows from shops and houses, with many reduced to cinders.
From either side of the balcony, our forces channel out of the palace and down to the streets in an attempt to quell the rioting and mop up any Truth Templars they can kill or capture.
Cyprien and Cedar heave Titania’s body over the edge of the balcony railing, using air wields to take the brunt of the weight and guide it into place.
I take Aldrin’s hand, interlocking my fingers with his, as the tree branches running across the low wall secure the tyrant in place.
Aldrin illuminates fire orbs all around her like a beacon, drawing the eyes of the masses below. He places a halo behind us.
“The tyrant who called herself the High Chancellor is dead!” Aldrin’s voice booms out across the city as he taps his magic into the many plinths placed throughout.
My heart hammers frantically as the fighting nearest to us slows, then stops completely as the people turn their full attention to us.
Some even go as far as to drop their weapons.
I don’t know if they stare at the body of their former leader or at their king and queen, but I guess it depends on which side of the battle they are on.
A cheer rises up from many of the people, who bang their boots against the ground and clash their weapons against whichever surfaces make a sound. Others turn and flee.
“Your true king and queen have taken their rightful throne,” Aldrin continues.
“Ours by birth and ours by winning the popular vote in the election. The war is over. The fighting will stop . Any civilians who got caught up in the moment and took to the streets after Titania’s call will be given clemency, but only if you return home now . ”
A ripple runs through the crowd below us.
Then they disperse, pulling away from the base of the palace and channeling down the many streets and flights of stairs that hug the faces of the high buildings.
The Spring Court army is still down there, looking worse for wear, pushing the mob away from the city center and mopping up any resistance.
My gaze trails to the balconies and boulevards further below, where the people look like fighting ants. Only those who can clearly see Titania’s face and know for certain that she is dead have stopped. The rest do not believe us. Panic rips through me like shards of glass pumping in my blood.
I whip around to Aldrin. “It’s not enough. Titania has primed the people for so long with her campaign of lies that they won’t believe anything unless they see it with their own eyes. They are far too used to dismissing inconvenient truths. Her cult still thinks they are fighting for her.”
He runs a hand through his hair, every line of fatigue on his face becoming pronounced with the rising sun. “What more can we do? We have wiped out and disbanded half her force in the palace and at its base. Our army will have to do the rest.”
My glaze flicks upward as dragons circle around the topmost portion of the palace, and suddenly I know what we must do.
It is barbaric.
Gruesome.
But it is necessary, because seeing is believing.
I reach out to the largest dragon glittering in the early sun and ask him for one final favor.
“We must parade her body through the streets for all to see.” I wrinkle my nose. Lord Cegar curses under his breath, but Cyprien just nods approvingly.
Aldrin frowns. “That is not exactly how I envisioned we would start our reign together, but none of this has gone to plan.”
“But it is necessary, old friend.” Cyprien places a hand on Aldrin’s arm. “If these fools insist on dying for a lost cause, then you need to match their brutality.”
Ezekiel lands on the rapidly emptying balcony, making the entire structure shake. He extends his golden wings wide before snapping them shut against his scaled body. His long neck whips around to us, reptilian eyes narrowing, before moving to where Titania’s body hangs.
This is not how you dethrone a tyrant, Aldrin. Always short on the savagery and showmanship. Your mate is right. Let me illustrate to your people what becomes of a usurper. Let me parade her through the city. The dragon has steam billowing from his nostrils as he approaches us,.
Aldrin lets out a long-suffering sigh, but I am the one who answers. “If you could be so kind as to show all that the High Chancellor is dead, we would owe you, king of dragons.”
He chuffs. Like you don’t already owe me.
The favors are mounting up, little queen.
Without another word, Ezekiel flaps his wings, sending a torrent of air assaulting us all, and rises above the ground.
He pulls the ensemble that Titania is tied to from the balcony railing and carries it through the sky, holding its topmost loops in his claws.
A procession of dragons follows behind him, swooping low over the masses of people, dispersing the fighting as they go.
Bartholomew and a second dragon wait patiently behind, having agreed to our other request. The prince lands with a little less drama than his father, lowering a leg for us to climb up. My hands shake by the time I am settled on his back in front of Aldrin, with both Cyprien and Lord Cedar behind.
I cannot get a grip on my nerves. Despite every single horror we have faced since I woke up from death, this next trial is the most terrifying, because I have no idea what we will find. There is every chance we could be far too late.
Aldrin’s grip on me tightens, but he has no reassuring words to say. Bartholomew beats his wings, launching upward and taking us higher and higher.
The refraction of the sun on the golden bars of the two remaining cages blinds me.
I can make out the figures of Drake and Sasha within, but I cannot see them clearly.
They could be slumped over and dead by now, spikes piercing their bodies, but by the Soul Ripper, I hope they are alive.
That we made it in time. The dread of anticipation makes my blood run cold.