Page 113 of Maleen

Talyn takes my hand. “You’re alive, and I could care less whether you have your magick or not.”

I shake my head. “I feel it, but it’s not working.”

Aemon frowns. “Maybe the Stone is affecting it. You absorbed it after all…”

My hands shake and I stare down at them in betrayal. The Fates did say that to save my realm it would require a sacrifice. They told me what I would have to do, how to do it, but didn’t tell me what would happen after. I suspected, but I didn’t think I would lose access to my magick. The first non-magick Queen.

I shake my head. “You’re right. Magick doesn’t matter, and my mother—despite what happened to her and how she handled it—this was what she was fighting for. Equal rights for all fae.”

I continue to rub my chest, staring at the dead plant in the window, one I’ve been neglecting to care for with how insane our lives became, and now I couldn’t even nourish it magickally. Talyn sees me staring at it. Feeling my grief through the bond, he brings it back to life, using his magick as if it’s as easy as breathing.

Killian groans as he rolls toward me and for some reason my eyes dart to his side. Something there calls to me. “Are you hurt?” I ask.

His brows furrow as his hand tenderly lies there before lifting his tunic and showing a large bandage wrapped around his torso. “Just a flesh wound. I had it tended to after the battle, but it’s still tender. I’m okay.”

My hand presses against it and a red glow emanates from my palm.

Killian hisses and when I pull away he unwraps it. Nothing is there but smooth skin. If it wasn’t for the blood and pus on the bandage, I wouldn’t have believed he was ever injured. I roll up my sleeves and panic when my scarred flesh is smooth, like I was never caused any pain in my entire life. Tears slip free and I’m relieved but also devastated, because I earned every single one of those scars. I know without looking that my back is smooth, too.

Jesper laughs. “You became the Soul Stone!”

I stare at my palms before staring at him. “What do you mean?”

Aemon wags his finger as he pieces things together. But Jesper seemed to have figured it out faster than all of us. “No, he’s right. That would make sense. It took all your magick, but you took in the Stone—the Stone’s magick. To heal the soul, you would also need to heal the vessel. You’re a new kind of Fae.”

The Fates’ words surface. “A new era of fae will rise,” I whisper. “That’s what the Fates said…” I stare at my hands again. “I can heal…”

“The Soul Stone could also warp minds and raise the dead to fight. So that makes you some sort of necromancer…with healing abilities?” Jesper asks, tilting his head. “My mate is so amazing,” he sighs.

“We don’t know that she can even do that,” Talyn adds. “She should rest some more, and then we can figure it out when she’s regained her strength.”

My head shakes as I start crawling out of bed. “No, I won’t be able to rest until I figure this out.” Nero lands on my shoulder, my unwavering companion. Before my mates can protest I level a gaze at them. “You can come with me, and then after, I’ll let you carry me back here and pamper me without any complaint.” I raise my brow in challenge.

Aemon’s the first out of the bed. “Well if we are going to figure this out, I know the perfect place to start.”

WITH SOME RELUCTANCE from Killian and Talyn, we are all standing in the middle of the battlefield. Mud, craters and blood still stain the ground, but the bodies are long gone, taken back to families so they can say their goodbyes.

Hairs on my neck rise and power crackles at my fingertips, and when I blink and my eyes open again, I can see them—see the essence of souls that have not yet passed to the aether and into the arms of the Fates. A soft gasp leaves my lips, and when I release the magick they’re gone again. My magick called me to use them, to talk to them, to help them.

“The dead…” I swallow. “I can see them.” I can also see golden threads tying my mates and I together and this comforts me, knowing that it’s a physical representation of our bonds together while Nero’s is silver and I know Vasari’s would be too. I’m probably gaping like a fish, but I don’t care. This is amazing and terrifying all at the same time.

“Try to summon one,” Aemon suggests.

Fear knots in my stomach but I feel strong enough, so I agree. Red magick glows from my palms and a single soul emerges, and I can’t help the watery laugh as Batsil appears as herself and not as a wraith which has me blowing out a relieved breath.

“You did it. Thank you. The Fates have a message for you.” Her eyes glow, and the warmth I remember from the snowdrop field appears as they take over Batsil’s spirit. “You have done well, daughter. You have shown great courage, and thus we grant you a new magick—a magick that will help guide you in leading our children. Your offspring will be blessed with Soul magick. Wield it well.”

“So the Soul Stone is gone?” I ask.

The Fates shake Batsil’s head. “It could never be truly destroyed, so it has been remade. You were born the perfect vessel. One who has been lost and known true grief, but not let it break the goodness in your soul. Who loves fiercely and fights for her home and the creatures in it.”

I feel my mates press around me, awe flooding the bond as they listen with rapt attention.

“I just did what was right. But some of my motives were selfish. For revenge on what was done to my family and friends… I’m not worthy of this, but I will do my best to honour you.” I dip into a deep bow.

When I rise, Batsil is smiling for The Fates. “You honour us, child, just by being you, and for helping to save all my other children. And for that, I will gift one of my sons—you call him Lennox—with what he has lost, so that he may find his way again.”

I gasp. “Mel?”