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Archers rained arrows overhead. Bjorn stood atop the fences, shouting orders. A new burrow opened from Dunker and added new blood fae forces. Sluagh folk screamed from above. Their bent and tattered wings blotted out the sun as they dove into the fight.

They were fae who seemed half dead, yet they fought fiercer than any warrior. Sluagh hovered over the wild fae, devouring the life in their eyes, leaving them soulless and empty.

Misty darkness bled from Davorin’s fingers. He tried to attack the warriors, to taint their hearts, but the folk from the Court of Blood ran over the poison, unaffected with the aid of Niklas’s elixir. Davorin’s flesh turned a sickly gray when he raged at the sky.

He knew we’d shielded his dark glamour. He knew we’d taken an upper hand.

Davorin slashed his bronze sword and struck my ribs. “How long do you think your pathetic barriers will hold?” He caught me around the braid and yanked me to the ground. His finger hooked under the twine holding my final dream tale. “You are half a power, and I am stronger than ever.”

When Davorin shoved me down, the twine snapped.

“No!” I screamed, grappling for the pouch.

My desperation gave up too much. He swung the snagged pouch, grinning. “What was yours once was also mine. Until we meet next, my love.”

Davorin’s body bled into darkness that seeped like rainwater into the soil. Countless mimics of trees, vines, anything with life, took him away. His wild fae who’d emerged from the trees tried to flee. More were cut down by the blood fae.

I was frozen.

We’d lost Eryka. Now, Davorin had my final way to Ari.

He’d have access to my husband’s heart.

Chapter25

The Golden King

Somewhere deep in my gut,I knew these moments were the end of an era. The destruction of a kingdom none of my folk ever truly knew existed. Where my parents had stood faded into a bed chamber. Riot kneeled in the center of a wide, tousled bed. His body was growing thin, weak, his voice was desperate.

“Davorin, I beg of you, don’t do this.”

My throat went dry as straw. The fate queen stood in a satin night dress at the foot of the bed, a silver dagger against a small child’s throat.

Damn the hells.

Saga remembered this moment as Anneli being the one who nearly died, but in truth, Davorin was going to slaughter Riot’s heir. The queen’s body trembled, her eyes filled with tears from the woman trapped inside with a monster.

“You beg?” The queen rasped. “You have taken everything from me.”

“Then take me,” Riot shouted. “Leave my family and take me.”

“I will wipe your line from existence. That is the only way I will rest in this war.”

Riot’s eyes narrowed. “Careful of what words you put into my head. You will write your own ending.”

The queen laughed, a wicked, twisted chortle. “Plan to sing me a song, my king? What can you do? I have weakened you; I’ve taken your army; I control this land. And I think I shall take back my little raven when I find where you’ve hidden her away. I wasn’t finished with her yet.”

Bile burned my throat.

“Riot.” The queen’s true voice broke through in a sob. A soft humming sound lifted in the dark. From the little child, but also . . . somewhere else. I couldn’t find the second source. The queen whispered, “If the Otherworld takes—”

“Neli,” Riot said as a tear fell. “It won’t. Fight it.”

“Send me after if I draw this blood. I will not live in a world where I am the destruction of my own child.”

Riot winced. “It won’t happen.”

The queen’s breaths quickened, the grip on the knife against the sobbing child tightened. Panic set in. “I can’t . . . Riot, I can’t fight—”

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