Page 112 of The Crowned Queen

The ground trembled beneath her knees, roots shifting in the dirt. The little shadow around her wrist held her tighter, clinging to her arm. This was her chance—all she had to do was will it, and the forest would take her power and strike them all down. But she couldn’t do it. Not with Loren hanging limply from his own shadows.

“Just promise not to hurt him,” Araya said.

The words tasted hollow the moment they left her mouth. A promise from Jaxon Shaw meant nothing—but it was the only hope she had left.

Jaxon paused, the silence stretching too long between them. “You really do love him, don’t you?”

“More than I’ve ever loved anyone,” Araya said softly.

She climbed to her feet, brushing white petals from her knees. She could feel the forest’s attention on her, its anger. Even if it wouldn’t—or couldn’t—speak to her, it was still here. Still watching.

I can’t, Araya told it. I can’t leave him here. I need to make another choice.

Her shield flickered once, then winked out altogether.

Jaxon stepped into the grove, crushing tiny white flowers under his boots.

“So this is the source of all magic,” he said, his gaze sweeping over the ancient trees with interest. “It doesn’t look like much, does it?”

He stopped just out of her reach, studying her with the same cool consideration. Behind him, the shadows dropped Loren to the ground in a heap.

“He’s hurt, Jaxon,” Araya said, fighting to keep her voice level.

“I would expect so.” Jaxon laughed, the cruel sound ringing out at odds with the babbling brook. “Throw that knife away, Starling.”

Araya unbuckled Caela’s knife with shaking hands, tossing it off to the side. She couldn’t have used it against him—but its loss left her feeling just as naked as if she’d stripped off all her clothes, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Let him go,” she whispered. “Please, Jaxon.”

“I’m not sure why you think I would do that.” He frowned at her, clicking his tongue. “I have you both. Him, subdued by his own shadows. And you—you I can simply compel. You have nothing to trade, Starling.”

“Yes, I do.” Araya nearly choked on the words. “My willing devotion—no more fighting, no more running. I go back to Aetheris with you and stand at your side. Willingly.”

Jaxon’s eyes widened, his gaze flicking over her face. Searching for the trick. “In exchange for?”

“Araya, don’t—” Loren rasped, his words cut off in a gasp of pain.

“Loren goes free.” Araya’s stomach twisted at his anguished moan. “Everyone we brought here leaves Tirnavel unharmed,” she continued, forcing herself to look only at Jaxon. “And you use the Shaw name to advocate for the fae.”

“Advocate for the fae,” Jaxon repeated, raising his eyebrows. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” Araya took a tiny step forward, holding his gaze. “Even with your father’s death, the Shaw name carries weight. They would be fools not to promote you to at least magister. You could use that influence to build a future where humans and fae work together, side by side, as equals.”

Another step. Close enough to touch him.

“With me at your side.”

Jaxon stared at her, his expression thoughtful. “I thought you had a different dream now, Starling.”

“Dreams change.” Araya stared into his eyes, willing him to look only at her. She was no threat. Had never been a threat—not to him. “I’m tired, Jaxon.” Her voice broke. “I just want to stop. I want it all to stop.”

Jaxon smiled, some of the steely cruelty draining from his expression.

“You always were a smart girl.” He lifted the hand holding the staff, dragging the bone lightly down the side of her face. “Perhaps we can⁠—”

Araya wrapped both hands around the staff and yanked as hard as she could.

The bone slid through her hands, the stolen magic it held burning hot enough to blister her palms. The shadows lurched, straining toward her as they were torn between two powers⁠—