No regret.
He died for her once.
He would do it again.
A hundred times over.
A thousand times.
Cedric steeled himself for the inevitable blow, focusing every stray thought, every kernel of focus into the words that would be his last.
“I lo?—”
As though a maelstrom had ignited in the middle of the throne room, Cedric and Elyria were suddenly in the air. Their bodies collided as they soared across the throne room, landing in a tumble behind?—
Dentarius.
The fae was on his feet, bloodied hands outstretched, wind whipping through his green-black hair. His chin was turned to the side, his eyes on Cedric and Elyria as they peeled themselves off the floor.
Red lightning flashed.
Dentarius grunted.
And then he was on his knees, blood pouring from a wound that bloomed across his chest.
“No!” Cedric shot forward in time to catch the fae as he collapsed, Elyria following just behind.
“Why would you do that?” Cedric’s voice broke.
“Couldn’t let you two...hoard all the glory.” Dentarius’ voice was weak, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Kit ran up beside the three of them, tears carving a path down her brown cheeks. “You stupid, stupid idiot,” she said, voice thick. “Just hold on. I can?—”
Faint wisps of healing magic pooled in Kit’s hands, but Cedric knew firsthand the kind of blow Dentarius had been dealt. He knew it would not be enough.
Dentarius looked up at Kit, his mouth tilting up at the bloody corners, even as his breathing became more labored—a wheeze, a rasp. “Make sure they know...I was more than just a...politician in the end, won’t you?” His fingers curled around Cedric’s arm. “And don’t...let the bastard win.”
His eyes fluttered closed.
And Dentarius Jaen breathed his last.
53
REVELATION
CEDRIC
The battle ended,not with a roar, but in sacred silence.
Cedric wasn’t sure how long he knelt beside Dentarius’ body, Elyria gripping his shoulder, Kit on the other side with her head bowed. Around them, the carnage of the throne room settled. Sephone disposed of one final cultist with a muffled cry. Bodies were strewn across blood-soaked marble, while discardedsanguinagiweapons glinted like twisted rubies in the torchlight.
Eventually, more bodies burst through the open throne room doors, but blessedly, they were not enemies this time. A contingency of the king’s guard poured into the room, bloodied, limping, and battle worn. Their faces paled as they took in the scene before them, though they were quick to rush to their sovereign’s side, helpingBarcroff ease the still wounded—but very much alive, thanks to Dentarius’ efforts—King Callum onto a bench along the wall.
Several took up defensive positions near the door, while others began clearing the room, checking for survivors amongst the corpses.
“The rest of the palace?” Sephone asked one of the guards.
“Cleared, my lady,” he said, chin dipping. “It is in shambles, but the remaining cultists appear to have fled.”
