Chapter 28

The crown bit into my scalp, sending an aching whip of magic through me as if the blackened metal itself was cursed. But symbols had power, as Dane pointed out, and today…today was all about power.

Every muscle in my body tensed as I lowered myself onto the red crystal throne, a thrum of dark magic soaking into my bones the second my arse hit the cold, uncomfortable seat.

"This is the last place I ever thought I'd end up," I complained, trying to keep an aloof yet imperious expression pasted on my face as the coven filed in. "The last place I want to be."

"Yet here we are." Tavion dipped his head so his breath brushed my cheek before he stepped away, the epitome of my humble, loyal servant, though we both knew he didn't have a humble bone in his body and he'd die before he served anyone. "Let's get this over with; you're too exposed up here."

"You just want to go back to bed."

"With you?" Tavion's eyebrows rose. "Of fucking course I do."

Raziel hummed in agreement. Wrapped in his writhing blue-black shadows, he was a silent sentinel behind me, proof that his power, while contained, could lash out at any time.

The entire coven—minus the witches imprisoned in their cells—was gathered before us, most watching me with curious expressions. Except for the handful who looked like they wanted to rip me from this throne. Tristan's and Dane's gazes snagged on each and every one, marking them for later.

Adele watched me from the throng with unnerving intensity, and for one long, strung-out second, I wondered if I was doing the right thing.

"I spoke true when I arrived. I did not come here for violence." I kept my voice even. Calm. "Despite the mark on my arm, I had no desire to fight Vireena or take her throne. Despite what some might whisper, I do not wish to rule. Not over you. Not over anyone."

A few low hisses whispered over the sound of shifting feet and rustling cloaks.

Dane had taken their knives, but I suspected most were still armed beneath their long cloaks and were ready to draw a blade to defend themselves, tension thrumming in the air.

"I killed the Fae King. I restored the magic to Caladrius, and yet I did not seek to claim his realm, though I had every right as his daughter." I folded my hands in my lap, letting them talk between themselves until a nervous quiet fell. "I came here for allies, to find others who want the same thing we do."

"And what's that?" someone shouted from the back.

"A world where we can all be free." I swept my hand across them, their pale faces stone still and staring at me with such distrust. "Where you don't have to live in fear. Where you could go anywhere you wished. The Shadow King tried to purge you from existence, drove you here to this inhospitable place. Would you like to reclaim your lands? Would you like to go home?"

Now the silence turned expectant.

"I cannot promise you victory, but I promise you this. The ones in power want to keep us powerless. Controlled. Another version of slavery." I allowed my most evil smile to curve my lips. "I've been a slave, and I know their cruelty firsthand. Help me take back what they stole from you. From me. From all of us."

The silence was so dense the air trembled. "We've lost friends, family, our homes. I can't give you those back, but I can promise you this. Once the Shadow King is gone, the lands he stole from you will be returned." I leaned forward, my hands hanging between my spread knees, and looked them in the eyes, each and every one, even my mother.

"I need fighters who want the same thing. People tired of toiling under a dictator. People tired of serving masters interested only in their own power while giving nothing back. You are my people." I held up a hand as the whispering started up again.

"Only half, but your blood runs in my veins, and because of that I will offer you a trade. I only want one thing from you. One thing that will mean more to me than an army, or riches, or this crown." My gaze slid over to Tavion, his broad shoulders flung back, cold eyes skating over the crowd, searching for any sign of a threat against me.

Dane and Tristan left their posts to climb the dais and stand by my side, five of us facing four hundred witches. Adele's eyes burned; she'd gotten the message.

You are not one of us any longer.

I lifted the crown off my head and balanced it on my knee. "This crown in exchange for the services of your best healer. Like I said before, I have no interest in power, only freedom." My smile turned crooked. "And in my opinion, a crown is a fancy form of slavery."

Tavion's head jerked to me, his eyes narrowing in warning, but I just smiled.

"A trade. Power…for freedom—your freedom. Choose the ruler you want. Choose someone you can trust. Someone who is wise and can steer you through these next centuries. Not a monster who rules with violence, but one who will nurture this coven and allow it to grow to its full strength again."

"Witches don't nurture," someone yelled. "We are warriors."

"Then you will rot away up here in the cold until you die out. Believe me, the Shadow King would celebrate that news with a fancy banquet and a parade. You can still be warriors and allow your coven to thrive. Or you can cling to your pride and wither away to nothing." I balanced the crown on my hip and rose.

"Your choice."

I shovedmy hair out of my face, my braid long gone, ripped free by the frozen wind.

"The healer is here," Dane muttered, keeping his hand on the pommel of his sword, his mouth pinched in a tight, disapproving line that had perfectly matched Tavion's when he'd stomped downstairs to break up a fight between some potential allies and yet another witch who would end up locked in a prison cell.

Which was good because I didn't want Tavion here for this conversation.

Tristan stayed close, even though I'd insisted Dane and his giant sword were protection enough. Raziel was making another round of the fortress, no doubt rooting out potential traps and assassins.

They all thought I was mad, giving up the crown so freely.

But I hadn't been lying when I'd said a crown was another form of slavery. I had no desire to be leashed to a realm, to a throne, to pointless duties and other people's agendas. I wanted to fix this world, and I couldn't do that sitting in one place.

Every ruler I'd ever known had grasped power and never let it go, but…what if that was their mistake? What if they'd twisted power into something small and evil because they didn't know how to dream bigger? What if power—true power—was the tool to build the world you wanted?

Besides, what I wanted couldn't be bought.

Couldn't be found if Lucius had searched for the cure for years, spending a king's ransom trying to save his wife.

But something Dane mentioned on the ride here had stuck with me. "Some say the healing magic, the gift of mending flesh and bone, began with the witches, a gift from the Old Gods themselves before it died out and was lost to the rest of us."

So I was taking a chance.

We stood on one of Stormfall's parapets, Dane deeming this outside location safer than meeting inside the fortress since we didn't have the time or manpower to do a thorough search, didn't know what sorts of threats this place contained.

What traps, Dane insisted with undue seriousness, the witches had set for me overnight.

Out here there was only the stone beneath our feet, the wind whipping my hair into a tangled mess, my two overzealous guards, and one unarmed witch.

She was wrapped in a black cloak, her hair sedately braided into a long tail, no armor in sight, but I never would have pegged the approaching witch for a healer. Her face was too hard, eyes too flinty, no trace of softness to her full, red lips.

She dipped her head. "I am Raven. I have been sent to ask some questions before the coven makes any decisions."

"That is wise," I agreed. "I wouldn't expect you to decide lightly. As I explained this morning, I have no wish to sit on your throne or any other." I peered into her expressionless face and dropped my voice, taking a few steps away from Dane so he would not overhear my request.

The last thing I needed was him running to Tavion and ruining my plan.

"One of my friends is sick. His father has searched every realm for a cure. Every realm except this one." Please let me be right about this.

"They say the gift of healing began with the witches. That you know techniques and magic that have been lost to the rest of the world, which is why I came all this way. Not to fight but to ask a favor. I have to save my friend."

I met Raven's cold eyes. "That is my offer. The crown in exchange for healing my friend before he gets sicker."

A flicker of something crossed her face. Doubt, maybe, her lips twisting slightly before they smoothed back out. "This I did not expect." She glanced at Dane, clasped her hands behind her back, and paced away, murmuring so softly I had no choice but to follow.

"Perhaps a bargain can be struck between us, but what a strange thing to ask for." Those dark eyes flicked up, filled with questions. "The crown in exchange for a simple healing spell."

I was about to tell Raven this was no simple spell, but her voice went so low I had lean closer to catch her next words. "You defeated Vireena. Ten challengers have fallen before you, all better fighters, all stronger in every way. You won the crown in a fair fight yet refuse to rule."

"Conquest…means little to me." I licked my chapped lips and gazed out over the barren desolation. Nothing but emptiness, a dead, silent landscape of shadow and light, but somehow I found the sight achingly beautiful.

It made me wonder if the world was watching me right back.

"My family is the only thing that matters. I would do anything to save them."

"Yet you've shunned your mother, the only true family you have. Strange that you would choose the company of strangers over your own flesh and blood."

"My reasons are…complicated."

How could I ever explain to this stranger the ancient bonds that tied us together? The dangers we'd faced, survived, and had still yet to endure?

"Still…the crown is yours. Earned through combat and blood spilled." Those eyes, once again, flashed with questions. "Do you stand by your decision to give up the red throne?"

Something in her tone sent the hair standing up on the back of my neck, and only now did I realize how far away I was from Dane, already moving toward us, his sword sliding free from its scabbard.

"I don't care about power."

I went to step toward Tristan when Raven's hand snapped out, snatching my arm hard enough to bruise.

"And that is what makes you utterly worthless," she snarled, then she heaved us both over the wall.