Page 145 of On Brutal Thrones

Thorian says nothing.

“You defeated my champions. You survived the Trials. And when pushed far enough, you stood against my power.” Valtor gives a quiet laugh. “I admit, Thorian, you have finally impressed me.”

My fingers find Thorian's.

He takes my hand immediately.

“Thank you,” he says.

I glance up at him. That's it. Two perfectly polite words that somehow contain absolutely none of what he's thinking.

Talon's mouth twitches.

Valtor doesn't seem to notice. Or perhaps he does and is pleased enough with his son's newfound power to ignore it.

“I knew it was in you,” he continues. “After the first time, I wondered if perhaps I had been wrong.”

The first time. My stomach twists. Thorian's mother. Valtor murdered her believing the agony might awaken this same power.

Thorian's fingers tighten around mine. I rub my thumb across his knuckles. I don't know whether he's thinking that he should have found this power then. That somehow he failed her because it came now instead. But if he is, I wish I could force the thought straight out of his head. His mother didn't fail because her son couldn't save her. Valtor failed her.

“But now,” Valtor says, spreading his hands, “you can finally take your rightful place. There will be a celebration, of course. Your ascension alone will be worthy of one.”

Thorian's expression doesn't change. “That's very generous.”

Talon coughs beside me. I'm nearly positive it isn't a real cough.

“Nice of you to race here before us, Valtor.” Soryn's voice floats across the summit.

The other gods appear behind us. One moment there's nothing but black stone and the remains of Valtor's storm. The next, the summit is crowded with divines.

Soryn stands at the front, her hands clasped loosely before her.

“Although,” she says, glancing around, “I think our champions have had quite enough of your weather.”

She flicks her fingers, and the world changes. The clouds peel apart, and sunlight pours over the summit.

I gasp. Blue. The sky is actually blue.

After days of darkness and storms, the color is so startling that my eyes sting. Soft white clouds drift through it, and warm sunlight settles over my face.

Thorian's flames dim to a gentle blue glow.

“That's better,” Soryn says. Then she looks at us, and her entire face brightens. “My champions.”

My.

Valtor's expression darkens.

Soryn's smile grows. “You won.”

The words hit me harder than the lightning did. We won. My chest tightens.

I look at Talon. Fenric. Thorian. They're here. All three of them.

We actually made it.

Then the thought that has driven me through every second of these Trials crashes through everything else.