Page 111 of The Crowned Queen

Araya stumbled through the trees, tears streaking down her cheeks.

The smoke was thicker here than she’d expected, rolling through the branches in grey waves that stung her eyes and caught in her throat. She coughed, pressing her sleeve against her mouth as she stepped through the final stand of trees.

It looked exactly as it had in her dreams. Soft moss carpeted the ground, studded with tiny white flowers. Somewhere out of sight, water moved over stone, filling the silence with its quiet, endless murmur. Ancient trees ringed the clearing, forming a wall separating the quiet sanctuary from the rest of the world.

And the magic—aether pulsed against her skin, pressing down on her from every direction, so vast and powerful that it threatened to drive her to her knees.

“I’m here,” she said. “Just like you asked.”

She paused, half expecting Loren’s mother to step out of the trees. But the only movement came from the wind rattling the branches of the trees. She could feel the forest all around her—in the power that filled the air and the ground under her feet—but nothing answered her.

The forest had commanded her to come here—to protect it. But it would not speak to her here.

Araya reached for her power. It came so easily here, rising up through her palms until it felt like sparks were dancing across her skin. She didn’t try to shape it or force it into a rune, instead letting her intention drift out into the streaming current until a shield blazed to life around the clearing’s edge. Nothing would pass it while she stood inside. Even if Loren fell…she wouldn’t give the Arcanum the Eldergreen. Not without a fight.

Unless she abandoned them all and ran like Loren had told her to.

Part of her hated him for offering it. How many times had he just acted, doing what he believed would be best without asking her what she wanted? But this time he’d left the choice to her.

She didn’t want to die. But she couldn’t leave her friends to die in her place. There had to be another choice—one she wouldn’t have to make, gods willing, because Jaxon wouldn’t make it past Loren and his shadows.

Araya pressed a hand against her chest, staring at the wall of trees. Loren was out there, just beyond them. She couldn’t feel him, but if she closed her eyes and focused, she could hear the shouts, the clash of steel, the crack of magic against stone. He was alive. Fighting.

Just like he’d promised her. They were both fighting to win today.

She checked the knife Caela had given her for the thousandth time. She wouldn’t need it, because no one would get past Loren. But she still made sure it would draw easily. Just in case.

Time passed strangely in the grove, with only the faint sounds of battle to offer any hint of what was happening beyond her shield. Araya paced the small clearing, the perfume of crushed flowers mixing with the smoke in the air. Surely, it wouldn’t be much longer⁠—

Araya gasped, the bond she hadn’t been able to touch for weeks suddenly springing into awful clarity. The pain, the white-hot burn of the sor’vael rune mixing with the terrifying flood of Loren’s pain and despair. Something was wrong. Black spots danced across her vision, the little shadow wrapped so tightly around her wrist that she couldn’t feel her hand. They’d had a plan. It should have been enough⁠—

Go, ael’sura. Loren’s mind wrapped around hers. The pain was still there, but his fear was gone. There was only peace—whatever she decided now, he loved her. He loved her so much. They’d had so little time. Nowhere near what they deserved. But he was hers and she was his. He could die at peace knowing that. And she⁠—

She couldn’t breathe. Agony speared through her, but it was nothing compared to the horror of realizing the male she loved was going to die. That he was going to sacrifice himself so that she could live.

Don’t, Araya screamed through their bond, clutching her chest with both hands. Lorendrael, don’t⁠—

But he didn’t answer her.

“No!” Araya screamed, her voice ringing out through the trees. Magic filled her words, rising to her intention and carrying them to the ears that needed to hear. “Jaxon, wait!”

Silence crashed over the grove like a wave. But the killing blow didn’t fall.

Araya knelt on the ground, her own breath harsh in her ears. The sweet perfume of the crushed flowers surrounded her, cutting through the smoke. She couldn’t feel Loren anymore, the strength she’d found to defy the sor’vael runes leaking away as her heart pounded against her ribs.

But he wasn’t dead. She would know if he was dead.

“Well, Starling—” Jaxon’s voice floated through the trees, rising as he moved toward her. “I see you’re exactly where I expected you to be.”

Araya held her breath, the forest’s silent fury beating down on her back like a blazing sun. She was the queen—this power was hers to wield and protect, but instead she held it back, allowing a man like Jaxon Shaw to trespass beneath its sacred branches. But Araya held on, fighting to subdue the power sizzling in her veins like brimstone. Urging the vines that hissed and slithered through the undergrowth not to lash out—not even when Jaxon stepped fully into view, dara’el trailing him like a dark cloak. The shadows writhed, jerking and snapping at each other as he dragged them forward. And in their coils⁠—

Araya made a soft sound, pressing her fist against her lips.

Loren’s own shadows dragged him through the undergrowth, branches tearing at his clothes and thorns carving red lines across his flesh. He barely reacted to the pain, his glazed eyes finding hers through the shimmer of her shield.

Run, his gaze ordered her. Run and don’t look back.

Jaxon lifted his staff, rapping it against her shield. “Are you going to take this down, then? Or do I need to make you? We both know I can.”