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Her sniffling fades, leaving only reverent silence in her wake.
Our eyes fix on Aislinn, backs straight, hands still, as she surveys us one by one.
Aislinn’s gaze lingers on Quill. “I know you.”
He arches a brow. “Is that so?”
“I found you lost and half-dead wandering Eleutheria long ago, and I guided Godrick Thaelon to you.” Rory laces her fingers through Quill’s. “In saving your life, I wonder how many innocents have also been able to live.”
She looks to Avaline next, where she kneels beside me. “And you, sweet Avaline. I’ve heard your prayers, your cries, your begging. Change is coming.” She places a hand against her heart. “You may not be mine to protect, but I have a soft spot for females who help others. Should you call, I will come. Sylithe be damned.”
Avaline bows her head.
Her gaze sweeps onto Carver. “Do not let history repeat itself with her.”
“Wasn’t planning on it, goddess,” he says, eyes drifting to Ava.
Aislinn moves on to Lettie, cupping her cheek. “You’re so content to not ask for more because you believe you don’t deserve it. You do.”
“I tell her that all the time,” Arkyn says lightly.
“Oh, Arkyn,” Aislinn murmurs. “You blame yourself for the king’s death, but it was his choice.”
“His choice took away my choice to die for him.” He swallows. “It should be me lying there.”
“But you have so much to live for, Arkyn,” she counters, glancing at Lettie, who presses a hand to her stomach. “So much good left to do.”
“The same can be said for Riv.”
She nods. “This is true.”
“Will you bring him back?” he blurts. “Please, goddess. I need—We need him.”
Aislinn doesn’t answer him as she walks away, coming to stand beside me.
“I am sorry, Gwyn,” she says gently. “Death revoked her blessing.”
My throat tightens. “She—”
Color seeps from the world around us, painting the clearing in shades of black and gray.
“I can speak for myself, Aislinn,” Death says, tone edged with warning.
My jaw drops, but it’s Rory’s shocked, “Black hell,” that draws all our attention to her.
Death’s smile is vicious. “Ah, the one who got away.”
Rory wipes her palms on her gown and then fists her hands at her sides. “Are we really going to do this again?”
Quill angles himself between Death and his mate, a promise in his gaze that is as clear as the sky above—he’ll fight the goddess with his bare hands if he must.
Death laughs. It’s bone-chilling. “There’s no need for that.” She waves an all-encompassing hand at Quill. “Besides, I’m not here to collect anyone but them.” She swiftly turns her focus to Riven and Devlin. “The king first, I suppose.”
“You can’t!” I shriek, fisting Riven’s tunic like my grip alone is enough to keep him here with me. “Let me resurrect him. Give me back your blessing. I’ve already made the sacrifice. I—”
“It’s not possible, eternal one,” she says softly. “To be blessed by two goddesses is far too much power for one creature. If I didn’t rescind my blessing, it would’ve torn you apart. In making your choice to welcome the Viretree’s magic into you, you’ve eradicated all trace of floramancy. Death is no longer yours to command, and you are no longer mine to care for. You chose your path, and now you must walk it.”
“All this time,” I whisper, “you cared for me?”
