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Something tightened in my chest. Something cruel and savage. I reeled back, gliding my dagger out of Fione’s palms like it had been a fleshy sheath around the blade. The sea witch, at last, took note of her reckless grip and shrieked her pain when the blade sliced open her palm.
“I told you once, I come from a place where women do not tear each other down for power,” I said, aiming the point of my blade down. “They stand shoulder to shoulder; they carry one another. But I think for you, Fione, I will make an exception.”
“Bold words, earth fae. Prove them.”
Roots sprung from the forest floor in the same moment Fione summoned a strange spell. Murky water bubbled from the soil and hardened into ice sharp as blades. Fione flicked her fingers, and the icy bolts flung toward my chest.
I raisedmy arm in front of my face. Gnarled wooded fingers sprang from the soil, barbs and brambles, and swung over Fione’s ice like a bulbous club, shattering them to pieces.
Fione’s currant red lips pinched. Glass shattered, and one of her vials burst in ashen smoke over a fallen branch. She lifted the tree limb, peeled back large flakes of bark, and revealed a fine short blade fashioned by her spell.
Etched in grains like the tree limb, the cursed blade was narrow and lithe, handcrafted for Fione’s slender palms.
“This won’t end in your favor, Fione.” Dammit. The tremble was clear in my voice. I adjusted the white iron dagger in my grip.
“You almost sound like you believe that, earth fae.” Fione gripped her ensorcelled blade, eyes flashing with hatred, then lunged forward.
No hesitation, no second thoughts. The rest of the shore fell away. Swords, cries, the sound of steel slicing through leathers and flesh. I could not pause to fret over my father or Alek. Mira, Jonas, Sander, I could not wonder if they’d found Skadi or flattened Arion’s forces.
Breathe. Focus.Those words had never settled clearer in my mind. This was my fight. This was my moment to secure peace for me and Erik. Others had their roles, their moments. Nothing would peel me away from mine.
With a strangled cry, I landed a blow against the edge of Fione’s sword. A quick strike, one that tossed us apart nearly as fast. We circled each other. The vibration of the steel from her heavier, larger weapon prickled up my arms. Fione’s eyes flashed like a storm over the sea.
We said nothing. No pleas. No jests. There was nothing to say. The sea witch and the Ever Queen were here to kill each other.
I rushed at her again. She met my strike with a ferocity I didn’t anticipate. In the short time I’d come to know the sea witch, Fione seemed like a lady who balked at sword play, who reveled in fine teas and lushgowns.
When her sword landed a cut to my arm, I swore and reeled backward.
“Stop this, earth fae,” she said. “Look around. You fight against old magics and old revenge. It will end in blood for your people.”
Through the trees, still on the shore, were the sounds of battle cries, of slicing blades. Sea witches, sirens, my people, battled the blades and elven pyre of Larsson’s kin. Perhaps it hadn’t been enough. Perhaps this fight was futile.
Or perhaps not.
My shoulders rose in sharp breaths. “I am Livia Ferus!”
I swung my dagger, catching Fione off guard, and landing a sharp strike to the edge of her sword. The sea witch backpedaled.
“Daughter of warriors!” Another downward blow. Fione cursed me and made a wild strike for my middle. “Heir of the Night Folk fae!”
“Enough.” Fione made a quick jab at my leg. I kicked at her knee.
Back and forth we pushed. Sloppy strokes, desperate blows, we fought with a finality, a knowledge that this moment would change the course of this land forever.
“Heartbond of the Ever King!”
Fione slammed her sword against my blade and promptly drew a fist against my jaw. I fumbled forward. The tang of blood grew hot on my tongue.
Do not fall. Breathe. Focus.
Erik’s face flashed through my mind. So far, so near. I could taste the air, taste his flavor—woodsmoke, leather, heat.
I wiped a sleeve over my lips. Blood soaked the fabric. Five paces away, Fione gasped, hunched over her knees, a bit of horrid stun in her pale eyes. Erik would want blood. He’d demand bones to drape over my body as a shrine to what became of our enemies, but not this one.
This fight was mine to finish.
“I am Livia Ferus,” I said, voice rough as a blade overstone. “I am the Ever Queen. And you, Fione, are no longer welcome in my kingdom.”
