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Rafael lifted his arm, and Fabian rose with the movement, until he hung directly over Rafael’s head. With a shrug, Fabian’s went slack. Rafael’s right arm remained raised to the sky, holding up the limp, lifeless body of the wicked former sovereign. The spear of light still pierced the dead prince’s body, casting a bright glow over the dismal scene. Blood ran down Rafael’s arm, tracing the lines of his veins and the groove of his elbow.
Everyone still standing watched as Rafael dropped Fabian to the terrace floor. A sickening flump filled the quiet night. The bright shard of light vanished, and darkness veiled the terrace once more.
A single bell chimed.
Only then did it occur to me that there were no other attackers. The fight was over.
42
Rafael
I turned until I spotted Talia, ignoring the carnage all around me. When she met my eyes, her ears twitched, and she looked quickly away, as if in pain. I lurched toward her, stepping over Fabian’s body. Whatever pained her, I would remove it from this world. The energy blazing in my veins heightened all of my senses to an overwhelming degree. Blood stained her shoulder and soaked into her fur. The smell of her iron-rich blood and potent fear filled my nose, but as I stepped over fallen courtiers and those scrambling to get away from me, I also caught the scent of bear.
It stopped me in my tracks. My wife—my bride—had become what I had so long loathed, what I had desired to leave behind, even at the cost of another’s life. She’d taken my curse upon herself, setting me free. And she had lived. She was stronger than I’d ever imagined.
A hush settled over the terrace, even among those moaning on the ground. To my right, Hector yanked his sword out of a fallen fae. He looked up at me. I nodded at him, and he returned the gesture.
When I reached Talia, I dropped the dagger—a weapon that once would have silenced my own magic—and knelt before my wife. She didn’t meet my eyes.
Without a word, I touched her furry cheek with my fully returned magic. She fell forward.
By the time she crashed into me, she was a woman again. This time, the change had happened in a single breath.
Gently, I moved her limp arms, her powerless shoulders, and her drooping neck. I pulled her up with me as I stood, grasping her chin with one hand and tilting her face toward me.
“Look at me,” I urged, voice low.
When she did, she blinked back tears. “Your eyes. They’re so bright,” she whispered.
Calling on the energy of the sun, I pushed more strength into her. Though it was night, I could now access the power of the sun as if it were hanging directly above my head. Darkness had no hold on me whatsoever. I’d never felt so free in my entire life.
With a deep breath, I searched out more energy, the source at my fingertips endless and unfathomable. I could get lost in this power. But I focused instead on Talia’s face as her energy returned until she could bear her own weight. I would not drown in this power as my brother had. Though my chains had fallen away, and my power was restored, even now I detected a whiff of decay inside me, a gear beginning the slow grind to an inevitable death, centuries away. As the vows had intended, I was taking on Talia’s weaknesses, including her mortality.
“How did I survive that?” she whispered.
I planted a kiss on Talia’s forehead. “We become like what we love,” I whispered back to her. This was the way of the fae, and it had led to much bloodshed tonight. “My love for you will make me like you, destined for the grave, as your love for me has lent you a sliver of my long life. I will take of yours and make it also mine.” She breathed deeply as I held her, though she couldn’t possibly know all that was transpiring, all that she’d vowed that day in Leor. I would help her understand. I had centuries to help her understand.
When she had the strength to stand on her own, light radiated under her skin, peeking out from every cut and wound. The skin closed over, and the light faded. She sobbed with relief and touched the places her wounds had been.
“How…?”
With a finger, I lifted her chin. “You have my magic in your veins now.” Somehow, I’d not assumed my diminished magic would be enough to keep her alive during the shift, but as she’d taken my weakness, she’d simultaneously taken some of my renewed strength. My blessings and my curses.
Everence swept toward us, flanked by a dozen others who moved silently, heads half-bowed in reverence.
“The crown,” she whispered. Her own hands were bloody, but she had no visible wounds. Then, in a stronger voice, she announced, “The crown will now fall to a new sovereign.”
At her words, a crown of gossamer, silvery-white metal like twisting vines appeared in her hands.
The entire terrace inhaled in awe. The fae who hadn’t entered the fight leaned forward, eyes bulging, as if they might fall down, sick with envy.
At their hungry faces, Everence clicked her tongue and held the crown close. The well-dressed, bloodstained fae tensed and stepped back like a pack of wolves salivating over a meal.
I smiled at Talia, then looked at my cousin. “I do not wish to rule this court.” My voice boomed out across the open, starlit space. A breeze cooled my sweat-dampened hair.
The fae exchanged eager glances. They wanted the crown. I readied my magic, prepared for any fool deluded enough to fight me now.
“But I alone have the power to wield it. Whoever takes this crown without the power of the sun itself will die.”
