Page 110

Galvin plunges the silver stake, and as if directed by the winds of the storm, it falls not on my chest, but on the timepiece around my neck.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

S ometimes a heart breaks slowly, sometimes all at once. But it is a rare and wonderful thing for it to be healed by magic.

The glass of my timepiece shatters, and my shattered heart rouses. The hands of the clock stop their ticking, and my heart ticks to life again. Warmth floods me, sternum to shoulder to tips of my fingers to frozen soles of my bare feet.

My broken heart was always mine to repair, my timepiece its anchor. That was my path to the Dark, all my passion and pain, all my grief and longing.

My mother is gone. My father too. But I am no longer heartless. I feel their life, their warmth, the love they gave me in a few short years inside me, beating steadily, keeping my head high and my spine straight. Love does not die. It endures all things.

And I will endure this.

The timepiece was my path to my mother, the way to that world where time stands still. And as its ticking ceases, the book in my arms wilts and shrivels. It dissolves into dozens of pieces, the pages turning to scarlet. The petals of poppy flowers. They fall through my hands, swirling in the wind, washed away by the rain.

I look up at Galvin. His eyes have returned to blue, and he stares down in horror at the broken timepiece between us. I can feel it instantly—the absence. I have healed my heart. I have chosen differently. The bond between us has been cut like thread.

Galvin meets my eyes. For a moment I see loss and hurt. I see loneliness. This is a boy who has never been chosen, who has always been used.

But that is a lethal brew.

Rage flashes in his eyes. He grabs me by the neck. “Willful and treacherous to the end,” he seethes. “You don’t want a crown? Fine. You don’t want to evade death? Then I will give it to you.”

He raises the silver stake high. But in the dark of the storm, he doesn’t see two shadows descend.

Cavendish and Caldwell are the things of nightmares. They descend on Galvin like avenging spirits. Galvin looks up and has less than a breath to register what fate has befallen him, before Caldwell’s sole taloned foot rips into his left eye and Cavendish’s beak spears his right.

The scream is terrible, mixing with the cacophony of the storm.

Behind Galvin, Lonan has pulled himself onto the bone bridge. Galvin swats at my ravens, blood pouring from his face, and Lonan uses his distraction to snatch the silver stake from his brother’s hand. Galvin covers his face with his hands and stumbles to his knees, nearly falling off the bone bridge.

Lonan grabs Galvin by the front of his military uniform. Cavendish and Caldwell take flight, their job done.

The steel has returned to Lonan’s gaze. His glasses are cracked and fogged in the rain, and his hair is slicked against his head. And yet, he is once again the picture of perfection. Untouchable and imperial as he stares down at Galvin.

My breath catches, sure I’m about to see brother execute brother. But then Lonan extends the silver stake to me.

“Your choice, Vesper,” he says.

He understands the importance of this. Galvin thought that the stars entitled him to me, that Fate granted him control of my life, my destiny. This is the final act of rebellion. This is spitting in the face of Fate.

So Lonan won’t do it for me. He won’t let this be anyone’s choice but mine.

No one is coming to save me.

I have to save myself.

I take the stake from Lonan’s hand without looking at him. This moment isn’t about him—it’s about Galvin and me and the tie that was between us.

“Galvin,” I say coldly.

He turns my direction and lowers his blood-soaked hands, revealing two empty eye sockets. Not even the pouring rain can wash away the streams of blood falling down his face like tears. His chin wobbles, and when he speaks, his voice is weak and whimpering. “Vesper, please,” he begs. He reaches out a hand, grappling to find me without his sight. “I love—”

I drive the stake into his heart.

It’s horrible to watch. In one tick of the clock to the next, his desperate expression turns to shock, then rage. Galvin seizes, his mouth falling open, revealing his spired fangs as he utters a final, rattling breath. I will see his face in my nightmares. The prince I’d danced with, whom I once thought so captivating, dies as a monster, not a man.

Lonan, still gripping Galvin’s shirt in his hand, releases him, no mercy in that gaze of steel, and Galvin falls to the graveyard.