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The Under-King opened his mouth to shout, but Ithan’s ice covered his face, his body. An encasing cold so complete, Ithan could feel it in his heart. Hear its frigid wind, capable of killing in seconds.
Ithan yielded to it. Poured it into the being now trapped on the stairs before him like a statue.
He knew Connor was watching in horror. And he didn’t dare take his focus off the Under-King long enough to read Hypaxia’s face.
Ithan became so cold he forgot what warmth was. Forgot fire and sun and—
Connor got in front of him. Snarling.
Ithan’s focus slipped. But instead of the disgust and dismay he thought would be on Connor’s face, there was only sorrow and worry.
“Well, that’s one way to shut the old windbag up,” Jesiba Roga said, stalking from the shadows of the temple interior.
Ithan whirled. But Jesiba said to Hypaxia, who was tense and thrumming with power by the nearest pillar, “Do it.”
The former witch-queen didn’t strike with her shimmering power. She merely lifted an unlit brazier from beside the temple entrance. With a face like stone, Hypaxia swung the dark metal.
And the Under-King exploded into sparkling shards of ice.
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There was a ringing silence as Ithan took in the pile of ice that had once been the Under-King … and felt nothing.
The Under-King was dead. Gone.
Ithan had killed him.
“Looks like we’ll need a new Head of House,” Jesiba said calmly to Hypaxia, who was staring down at the Under-King, clearly appalled at what she’d done.
What they’d done.
“When I swung at him,” Hypaxia said quietly to Ithan, ignoring Jesiba, “I put a bit of my power behind the blow.”
Hypaxia held out a bloodied hand to Ithan, and he realized that he, too, was bleeding all over, from the explosion of razor-like ice shrapnel. Rivers of red ran down his hands, his face. Hypaxia didn’t look much better.
He slid his bloodied hand into hers. Her hand glowed, and they were both healed. The cuts on her face vanished—along with his, judging by the tingle that washed over his skin. Faster than he’d ever seen any other medwitch work.
“Play later,” Jesiba said. “We have work to do.”
“What work?” Ithan asked.
“You kill it, you become it,” Jesiba said to Hypaxia. “You are now, for all intents and purposes, Head of the House of Flame and Shadow. And this place.”
Her face paled. “That’s not possible. I don’t want that burden.”
“Too bad. You killed him.”
Hypaxia advanced on Jesiba, her face twisted in anguish and fury. “You knew this would happen,” she accused. “You made me escort Ithan not to help him, but—”
“I suspected things might shake out in your favor,” Jesiba said mildly. “But even though you’ve inherited this place by right, you must make some decisions quickly. Before Rigelus becomes aware.”
“Like what?” Ithan demanded, looking to Connor, who still stood nearby at the top of the stairs, watching them all with awe on his ghostly face.
“Like what to do with the souls here,” Jesiba said, nodding to Connor.
“We let them go,” Ithan said. “We don’t even need the Quiet Realms at all, do we?”
“No,” Jesiba said. “Death worked just fine without them before the Asteri came.”
