Chapter 40

40

H ell in a handbasket.

That's where this is going. I finally have everything I wanted—friends and a purpose. Fuck, I even have a dragon . And I'm screwing it all up for a guy.

I cannot believe myself.

No more, I promise myself. And this time, I mean it.

Night four of King's Fair is canceled out of respect for Sorscha and Ilsa's family. I stand at river's edge, between Zadyn and Marideth, our friends gathered close by.

The turnout for Ilsa's sendoff is overwhelming. Hordes of High Fae nobles and courtiers gather behind us for the service.

My eyes snag on the princess down the line. Her face is removed and stoic beneath a sheer black veil. Jace stands at her side, dressed impeccably for his new role as Hand of the King. His posture is not so easily shed—hands folded behind his back—still the captain at heart. They stare forward, and I wonder if Sorscha had a similar talk with him about the nature of our relationship.

I pry my eyes away and glance down at the floating platform staked to the water's edge. It is fashioned entirely from gathered sticks and flowers. Beneath its ethereal archway rests a white bed where Ilsa lies, small and still. She is dressed in a simple white gown with long sleeves, her silken platinum hair arranged perfectly around her like an angelic halo. Her skin is dusted with color to hide the blueish decay already setting in. She looks peaceful as sleep itself atop the float, surrounded by mementos and the most beautiful floral arrangements I've ever seen.

The High Priest leads the congregation in a prayer in ancient fae. Then a female in robes similar to his steps forward and begins to sing, her voice pure and angelic. The crowd joins in the sad and ancient song, cracking something in my soul.

When it concludes, and the echo of their joined voices has faded from the air, a fae couple, I assume to be Ilsa's parents, carry a burning torch over to the float. They gently bend to light it together. The rope is loosed from the stake, and the float begins to drift away. Flames slowly engulf the altar as her parents hold each other, heavy sobs wracking their bodies.

Then it begins to rain.

The droplets fall onto my cheeks, mingling with the onslaught of quiet tears. A wave of anger washes over me for the innocent life taken.

So wasteful, so unnecessary.

Jace once said that one day, when the time came, I would be able to kill. I didn't believe him until I was dagger-deep in those creatures. And now I can safely say that to protect my friends, to protect my loved ones, I would kill and kill and do it gladly.

If it means preventing innocent lives like Ilsa's lost.

Drained and depressed, I sneak away after the service, needing distance from everything and everyone.

I sit on the cool cave floor, back propped up against a massive crystal stalagmite, watching Furi munch on the squirrels I caught for her. I stare at the grotesque sight, feeling nothing but numb. She swallows and lets out a loud burp, and I gasp.

"Furi! Where are your manners?"

Excuse me.

It's okay, girl.

She eyes me keenly.

The Blackblood is sad.

My friend is dead.

There is more you mourn. The captain.

What are you talking about?

I can smell him on you.

So what? I was with him this morning. That doesn't mean anything.

He is not for you, Blackblood.

Great, not you, too. I know this. He's engaged. It's over.

That is not why he is not for you.

What are you talking about, Furi?

You belong to another.

What? No, there is no one else.

Isn't there?

Okay, I'm not about to discuss my love life with my dragon.

When do we ride?

I sigh, running my hand over her slick scales.

Soon, I promise. When it is safe. You were right about the danger. We were attacked a few nights ago by these…creatures.

What creatures? Why did you not call for me, Blackblood?

Because Furi, I had it under control. I took care of them .

Next time you are in danger, you call. I will come. I will fight. I will protect.

You're loyal, Furi. But I wasn't about to endanger you. If anyone had seen you, it would have put a target on both our backs.

Let me see the creatures.

How?

Open your memories to me.

I close my eyes, stilling my hand on her face, and think back to the night of the attack. The swarm of beasts coming at us one after another. Their undying rage, their brute strength.

Stryga.

What?

The Stryga is what they were called in the world of my mothers.

You know them?

They are the spirits of those who died before their time—cursed with an endless cycle of death and rebirth.

What do you mean?

Rather than create a new world for the souls of the dead to inhabit, our gods created a form capable of reanimation. The Stryga do not die, for they are already dead. With each cycle, the soul grows blacker until all that remains is an incurable thirst.

Thirst for what? I ask, already knowing the answer.

The eternal vessels survive on the blood of the dead.

"Oh my god." I leap to my feet. "The creatures from the portal came from your home world. This confirms everything. I have to get back—I have to tell the others. Thank you, Furi." I peck her on the cheek.

"I'll be back soon."

I barrel through the door, breathless after racing back with my discovery, to find Zadyn already waiting in my room .

"Where have you been?" He gets to his feet, his voice tense.

"Oh, hey, mom," I tease, closing the door behind me. I shrug out of my jacket and toss it on the chair. "I have big news. Bad news, but big news. I went to see Furi."

"And?" he prods.

"And she knows what those creatures were. I showed her my memories, and she recognized them from her home world. They're called Stryga." I sink into a chair, gazing up at him. "They're beings who met early deaths, and their gods were too lazy to create an afterlife for them. So, instead, they created these immortal vessels to house the souls so that they would just die and be reborn in a never-ending cycle. And guess what keeps them running?"

"What?"

"The blood of the dead," I answer, leaning my elbows on my knees. "It's them. The Stryga are the ones who tore through the portal and killed those Guardians. They killed all those fae at the borders and attacked us in the maze."

"There were dozens of them." Zadyn's brow furrows. "And these Stryga—they're strong enough to kill a Guardian?"

"They must be." I shrug. "But if Furi is right about them, then our wards will do nothing to keep them out. We have to tell the others. Come on." I rise, making for the door, but Zadyn stops me gently.

"Hey, slow down," he says, thoughtfully taking my hand. "Everyone is…mourning right now. Give them tonight to grieve. We can share what you learned tomorrow."

I sigh, frustrated with myself. "You're right. I hadn't even considered that. I'm just in another world right now."

Where is my empathy? My compassion? I'm so morally gray right now, I barely even recognize myself.

"What's going on with you?" Zadyn asks softly, his warm brown eyes concerned .

"Nothing. What do you mean?" I sit back down, crossing one ankle over my knee, and start ripping the laces of my boots free.

"You're distant."

I say nothing.

"Is it Ilsa?"

"No." I chuck off my boots and pour myself a glass of water. After a long sip, I swallow and clarify, "I mean, of course, I'm upset about her, and I'm angry that she died, but…I don't want to talk about it."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with Jace and Sorscha's engagement, would it?" He eyes me incredulously.

I sigh. I knew there would be no avoiding this conversation with Zadyn, but I'd hoped he'd give me a little more time to let the dust settle before launching right into it.

"Look, if we're going to talk about this, you need to promise not to judge me. I just need someone to listen."

His kind eyes soften. "I would never judge you, Serena. What happened?" He takes a seat across from me and waits patiently.

So, I tell him.

I confess to what Jace and I did after I told Zadyn it was over. I tell him what we did after I bonded Furi. I tell him what a terribly selfish person I am. And then we're quiet for a long time.

I sigh, leaning over the table, and bury my face in my arms. "Well? Am I the worst person ever?" My voice is muffled as I peek up at him.

"Not even a little. You fell in love with someone you can't have. It will pass, and you will heal. I'm not minimizing your feelings, but Serena—" I prop my chin up, and Zadyn reaches out to brush a strand of hair out of my eyes. He tucks it behind my ear and slowly lowers his hand. "Blackbloods live a long time. You will probably fall in love a thousand times before you find the one you want to spend forever with."

"Don't tell me you believe in the one , Zadyn. When the fae live for thousands of years?"

He nods earnestly, his brown eyes searching mine. "What is a mate, if not the one ?"

"And witches mate?" I ask doubtfully.

"Of course. And believe me, when you find that person, when you find your soul's match, it will make every love that came before seem inconsequential."

"How do you know that?"

"I just do." He shrugs with a sad smile. I stare at him for a long time.

"Have you had that? The kind of great love you're talking about?"

He sits back in his seat, saying nothing.

"Well, have you?" I nudge his foot with mine.

"I've loved many females."

For some reason, that makes my cheeks flush with envy. I force myself to press on.

"That isn't what I asked."

"I did find my great love." He smooths his hand over the table idly, his eyes tracing the motion.

"What happened?"

"I wasn't hers," he says simply, lifting his gaze to mine.

Who wouldn't want Zadyn?

"Wow." I blink. "What a fucking idiot."

He bursts into contagious laughter, and I allow myself to join.

"Just tell me your great love isn't Cece," I amend through the fit of giggles.

He nearly chokes. "Cece and I—we just enjoy each other's company. We all need our distractions. "

"Yeah, I'm sure the conversation is absolutely thrilling."

"You're an ass," he says affectionately, tipping my chair back with his foot.

"And that's why you love me."

I stand, planting a kiss on his cheek before heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed.