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Nua squeezed my hand. “I saw how much they loved you. I saw how happy you made them. There is nothing I can say that will take away your grief and pain, but please…” He swallowed, voice thick. “Please don’t give up. For them. And for us. And for Lonan.”
A sharp pain stabbed through my chest. He was right. If I gave up, if I succumbed and became just like the Brid, all this would have been for nothing. There’d just be more loss. I would lose Lonan and Nua and Gillie. They’d lose me too. There’d be more death and pain. No one would win.
Exhaling, I wiped my hand over my wet cheeks and nodded. “O-okay. I… I won’t give up. I’ll keep fighting it.”
God, even saying it made me want to hide and sleep forever. How long did I have to keep fighting?
“No, not fighting it, Ash.” Mol shook her head. “Accept it and quash all the bad parts. Replace them.”
I sighed, feeling exhausted. “How?”
“Don’t just be the king, a figurehead that exists to serve the Folk. Be a person. Do things for yourself.”
“You haven’t been able to spend any time in your drachmsmith chamber, have you?” Gillie gave me a tiny smile. “Maybe that would be a start. Some potioncraft. We could go foraging for ingredients after this.”
“Some time in the forest too,” Nua piped up, then glanced at Fioda sheepishly. “Once… once you can leave, I mean.”
“Potioncraft and walking in the forest,” I said flatly. “It’s that simple, is it?”
“It sounds simple, but it requires work.” Fioda smiled. “A conscious effort to shape yourself into who you want to be, to not just be a void for the Brid’s influence to fill.”
“Okay. I’ll try.” I clutched at my arms, my branch fingers rasping against the sleeve of my shirt. “Is… is Lonan going to feel this way too?”
Fioda cocked her head. “Lonan has had time to prepare. When he kills the Carlin, he will be sure of what he’s doing, and he knows what awaits him. You didn’t have that luxury.”
My belly cramped with worry at the thought of him being anywhere near the Carlin. She still scared me. I hated admitting it even to myself, but it was the truth. She terrified me, even though I was now strong enough that she couldn’t actually chain me up again. Torture me. Eat me bit by bit.
But then, I’d been struggling to believe that about myself. I still felt scared and vulnerable and unprepared for this life. Maybe that was why I’d been so reluctant for us to go and kill her. Maybe I’d been terrified that we would fail, and then once again I’d have everything ripped away from me.
Exhaling an unsteady breath, I licked my lips and reached for my glass. I forced myself to pay attention to everything as I took a sip. The lemonade was cold and sharp and not too sweet, but I could taste the honey in it, light and floral.
A dragonfly hovered above us before swooping towards the stream. The air was warm and fragrant, but cooler down in this shallow basin between gentle hills. Life teemed all around us, and for the first time since becoming king, I felt connected to it.
This was all a part of me now. Something for me to look after. But for once, that didn’t feel overwhelming. It was… humbling.
I didn’t want to see it tainted by terrible things like the Brid had done, chasing poor Folk through the trees to slaughter them for sport. I didn’t want to see the forest destroyed because I’d been refusing to accept the power I now had, which was making it try to spread too far, to take over, because I’d been refusing to let nature take its course by trying to keep Lonan here. Trying to stop what was meant to happen from happening.
I did have to accept it. I had to accept all of it. That my parents were gone. That my old mortal life was over. That Lonan would be king, and we would have to somehow find a way to be together despite the forest separating us. If he still wanted me.
Parts of it still felt so unfair. Parts of me still wanted to rebel and push back and stay angry about what had happened. But what would I gain? Nothing. What would I lose? Everything I had left.
So I had to try. I had to keep trying. I refused to lose anything else.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Lonan
The palace was even colder and more lifeless than I remembered it.
When I was younger, I’d found a gap in the palace’s back wall—a tiny gap between the stones, just wide enough for me to slip through if I shifted into a spider. It led into the kitchen, usually the busiest room in the entire place, but this time only a few staff were in there. One was peeling potatoes over the sink while two others sat at the table playing cards and drinking a bottle of cooking wine.
None of them spotted me as I crawled along the wall. I didn’t linger, but I caught some of their conversation before I slipped under the closed door.
“Why do I have to peel all these fucking potatoes for soup when she never even eats it?”
One of the fae at the table answered, “Because there’s only a little bit left in the pot, and do you really want to find out what happens if she calls down for a bowl and there isn’t enough? It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t eat it. We have to have it ready.”
“You could help, you know,” the fae at the sink snapped. “What if someone comes in and sees you two twiddling your thumbs?”
