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“We have the true claim!” Between his thick fingers he held a glass ring, coated in dark runes. The glow of those runes was deadened.
Gods, the same ring had once been in the court of Riot Ode. A relic to be found on a cruel path of fate that would bring battle after battle until a masquerade where a young boy would be stolen from a young girl.
At my side, one of the attendants in the tent looked to me curiously. Warmth spread in my chest. Here was a final piece of this tale that would ignite the steps for my Shadow Queen. The attendant tilted his head when I grinned.
“One day, your house will protect the heirs with the true claim to that ring,” I whispered, speaking only to the attendant. “Teach your son of the fallen family, so he will teach his son, and his son, until the end.”
The attendant swallowed. He was unsettled, but there was a burn within him. One he might not be able to see. He did not believe his master was the true king of the land, yet he lived on both sides. Much like a man would do in future turns, a man who’d grow in power beneath an enemy while housing a forgotten daughter in his hayloft.
“House Strom,” I whispered, “will become the house of royals.”
He dipped his chin, confused, uneasy, but there was the slightest twitch to his lips as though he wanted to believe my words enough to smile.
Hot tears gathered in my eyes as the words for the path of fate that would unite Kase and Malin burned through my head. While the bastards of the war camp celebrated and taunted the fallen memory queen, I wrote the words in the dirt.
A song, a tale I didn’t think I’d ever truly seen, yet I knew it. From the depths of my soul, I could sing each word of pain and loss, of shadows and crowns.
“We are at the end of this tale, Princess,” Stefan said. “Find the voices you cannot explain. Until the next tale.”
“Sing my song at the end. Bring me back to you,” I whispered to the darkness.
Always,Little Rose.
Silas wasn’t here, but his voice was clear and sharp in my mind.
“You will fight to keep that ring forevermore,” I said to the wretched royal holding the ring. “You will never rid this land of the true bloodline.”
He smirked and tossed the ring, catching it again in his dirty palm. “Watch me, sorceress. Then again, I suppose you won’t be able to see much.”
The low hum of Silas’s voice surrounded the war camp.
I closed my eyes.
“Whisper?” I murmured the name I called the haunting voice. “What was your mother’s name? I’ve forgotten.”
My mother?The song in my mind paused.You remember me.
“I do.” I smiled and spoke the remaining words in my head. What was her name?
Another pause, then,Greta.
A smile flicked in the corner of my mouth.I think I shall be Greta then.
Heartache splintered through my chest. Agony, rich and palpable, burned through my blood. I wanted to tell him not to fret, not to hurt on my behalf. I wanted to tell him many things, but the song began again, one that fitted into the words I’d spun about a shadow king, and a queen who robbed folk of memories.
It was beautiful.
A guard wrenched my head back. A scream slid from my throat, but it faded to wet gasps when the knife rammed through my neck.
In my mind, a cry of anguish broke my heart more than the blade.
Find me, he pleaded.Live and live again. Find me, Little Rose. Please.
Phantom aches burned along my throat when I realized I was back in the gloom. I was free of the war of memory workers over a cursed ring.
“Silas?”
“Live—” He stared at the dark ground and cleared his throat. “Live and live again.”
