“You are all rats. You shades are a filthy disease on Tenebris,” Nevina says. “Father and I tried to reform you, but you never understood how good you had it under our rule.”
“For the goddess’s sake, shut the fuck up,” my mother says, a second before she walks through the light and sinks Cassius’s dagger into Nevina’s heart.
“Nyxadora,” Nevina sputters, blood staining her bottom lip and dripping onto her silver dress.
“You took something that is mine,” my mother hisses. “And today, I take it back.” Her skin blisters and burns in the dark elf’s light, but she doesn’t cry out. She is mortal and she is hurting, but it will pass. What she needs in this moment, she intends to take, and I will not interrupt the taking.
Mother yanks the blade up and out of Nevina’s chest, and I watch the life drain from the false queen’s eyes. Slowly, the light of her magic dies with her. With blackened fingers, Mother reaches out and drags her crown off Nevina’s head. Nevina’s body drops, lifeless, from the throne.
“You know, son,” Nyx says, her voice as charred as her flesh. “It is a remarkable feeling to have birthed a child who is far wiser and more noble than either of his parents. And to know you have chosen a bride who is just as wise and just as noble makes me the proudest I have ever been.” She hobbles toward me and passes me the blade, still thick with Nevina’s blood. “Thank Eloise for lending me this.”
I look at it and then at her, relieved to see the blisters on her skin are already healing. “I will.”
Then she releases her grip on the crown, which rolls and clanks to a stop near my feet. “It’s your kingdom now. Do with it what you will.”
41
The People
Eloise
Everyone sleeps in Stygarde Castle that night. Everyone who can fit. Damien insists. His only caveat is that we get the bed in his old chambers. No one denies us. The room has been locked off and is exactly as we left it. Our warriors fill every room, every spot on the floor, most of them so tired they simply lie down wherever they stop moving.
Maeve has no choice but to stay with us. Until I resurrect Phantom, I can’t draw the sigil to send her home. I’m much too drained to do either tonight. Besides, she can barely keep her eyes open from her overuse of power, and she falls asleep on the settee in Damien’s seating area.
Damien and I do manage a fast and very unsexy bath to remove the layers of blood and sweat that cake our bodies and hair. I clean out the wounds that are slow to heal on his side and forehead, the burn along the outside of one elbow and one leg. It’s a short, efficient affair thatresults in a true heaven—climbing between clean sheets in clean pajamas. We are asleep in seconds, the snores of the other soldiers on the floor of our room a gentle lullaby.
We do not wake until the moon has set and risen again. I open my eyes to Maeve leaning over me, dressed in clean clothing that I recognize as my old riding gear, and adjusting her glasses on her nose. “I hope this is okay.” She gestures to the breeches and tunic that once were Damien’s. “I needed a bath, and it was all I could find.
“Of course. Goddess, anything, Maeve. I owe you my life.”
“How about a cup of coffee and a Danish?” She places her hand on her stomach.
I smile up at her. “I think I can find a suitable equivalent.” I glance over my shoulder and see that Damien is still sleeping. At least it looks as if the cuts and abrasions I noticed before seem to have healed. I crawl out of bed and step around the soldiers still sleeping on the floor to get to my wardrobe. I dress quickly in one of Ariadne’s originals. Instinctively, I move for my daggers, then remember I don’t need them anymore and come out from behind my dressing screen without them.
“Wow,” Maeve says, taking in my emerald outfit.
“It’s the style. I can dig out a dress for you if you’d like.”
She laughs. “Unless you have something in that wardrobe in black with skulls, no thank you.”
I shake my head. “Come on. Let’s find the kitchen. You aren’t the only one who’s going to be hungry.”
For once, I’m thankful for Nevina and Brahm’s greed because I find their stores perfectly adequate to feed an army. I prepare a hot beverage for Maeve that is as close to coffee as we have on Tenebris and feed her red wheatrolls with plenty of butter and jam, alongside strips of cooked stag. I drink my fill of stag’s blood, which grosses her out but invigorates me.
And then I get to work. I push the table in the dining room against one wall, and one of the previous servants, Roslyn, volunteers to help set up another table in an L shape. As we work, she tells me of how Damien freed her in the last moments of the war and explains how most had escaped after their enchantment was broken. I make sure she’s eaten her fill, and then, together, we set out a buffet of simply prepared blood, meat, bread, cheese, and fruit.
As the soldiers wake, we serve them. It’s an honor to feed the men and women who fought for Stygarde. An honor to be in their company. I learn each of their names and listen to their stories. I thank them for their service.
At some point, Nyxadora sees what we are doing and edges behind the table to help. Not to be outdone, Jaqual crowds in, following my example and thanking each man, woman, and child for their help.
“Already campaigning, I see,” he whispers to me between dishing plates.
I snort. “I’m just feeding the men Damien and I are responsible for. I don’t have ulterior motives.”
“Goddess, you are annoyingly trustworthy, Eloise. When I’m voted in as leader of Stygarde, I’d love to hire you as my chief adviser.”
“What advice could I possibly give the Rivertoad king? You already know everything.”
