Perhaps that was true, but no part of him resided inside me other than his blood. My children would know only joy and only hear tales of caution when it came to this man.
He’d have no legacy in this realm, not even his castle, and he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of me watching him die.
I looked at Ellery, who stared at me with her eyebrows in her hairline. She squeezed Scarlet’s hand before releasing it and striding toward me.
When I held my hand out to her, she clasped it within both of hers and followed me down the stairs. Scarlet, Ruby, and Tucker followed us; they’d had enough of the blood and death too.
The amsirah parted to let us pass, though many still crowded the stairs. Finally, we made it through the throng and were walking away when someone shouted.
I glanced back as the amsirah surged up the steps. They’d forgotten it was to be a beheading as the teeming mass encapsulated the duke.
Veni screamed as a bloody arm rose triumphantly into the air. The amsirah’s savagery didn’t unnerve me; I’d seen and unleashed worse, but Ellery shuddered beside me.
As they continued tearing the duke into pieces and passing them through the cheering crowd, we entered the Revenant Woods. Veni was still screaming when Farley found us.
“I spotted the boy, Lery,” he said.
Ellery perked up. “Mouse?”
“Yes, he’s in the woods near your manor.”
“We have to get there now,” Ellery said, and I opened a portal.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
Ellery
When we emerged from Ryker’s portal, I spun as I searched the trees for any sign of Mouse. There had been some sightings of him since the war, but only by the poltergeists. He hadn’t tried to engage with any other amsirah.
The poltergeists wouldn’t lie to me about seeing him, but it had been so long since I had that I couldn’t believe Mouse was okay until I hugged him again.
Shadows swirled around the woods as the trees swayed. Their dancing created movement where there was none and caused my heart to leap with hope, but Mouse didn’t materialize.
When the duke and his men raided our encampment in the forest, Mouse had fled. He’d never resided in the encampment with us, but I was sure he’d had a hiding place nearby.
All those men and women storming the forest had probably petrified him. Like the rodent he’d been nicknamed after, he’d gone to ground after their invasion.
Or at least that’s what I’d hoped for. I couldn’t think about him being caught and killed or destroyed by some forest monster since he was last spotted.
I told myself he’d come out when he was ready. Had the time finally come?
Most of the sightings of Mouse were recent, which meant he’d probably started emerging from his safe spot more. He would have to venture out for food and water, but Mouse was resilient and clever; he probably hadn’t traveled far for either.
The joy of possibly seeing Mouse again eclipsed the horror of what we’d left behind. I’d never say the duke deserved a quick end, or anything less than what he’d endured, but I would have preferred not to see his hand waving through the air or the bloody stump of his shoulder socket.
I shuddered at the memory. Hopefully, it was the last bad one I’d have to experience from the war and the aristocrats.
A rustle in the underbrush drew my attention a second before Mouse crawled out of a fallen tree with a hollow center. He was already on his feet when I stepped toward him.
Before I could move any further, Mouse sprinted toward me and launched himself. The impact of his weight rocked me back, but I didn’t care. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and we clung to each other.
Sobs of joy and laughter burst from me before I registered that I was going to cry. This past month had been an extremely emotional time, but I’d managed to keep my tears mostly in check since breaking down in the city of the dead.
Now, as intense relief and love filled me, I had no control over anything while I rocked back and forth with Mouse in my arms. I didn’t care that he was filthy and smelled like one of the forest creatures; I was just happy to hold him again.
He’d grown and lost weight since I last saw him. His head now fit perfectly beneath my chin, while the delicate bones of his hips and collarbone pressed against me. The dirty, torn clothes he wore weren’t suitable for the winter, but he’d survived.
I hated the idea of him just surviving, scared and alone in the forest. It broke my heart, and more tears spilled free for this beautiful, broken boy who’d seen far too much cruelty and death. I could love him, but I could never change him.
