Chapter 37

Thirty-Seven

I’m not sure how long we stand there, staring at the lifeless body of the Summer Queen.

It feels like a lifetime.

The air is still around us save for the occasional snuffling of the Autumn Beasts.

Is it really over?

I’m not quite sure I believe it.

I glance over at my brother, his sword still in hand, blood dripping from the blade. His face is unreadable, but his nostrils flare with a deep breath and he barely blinks, his gaze trained on the queen.

It’s like we’re all waiting for the next trick, the next con, the next shoe to drop.

It doesn’t.

The queen is dead and we are victorious.

But I think we all know that there is more work to be done.

Behind us, there is a shuffling of feet, a rustling of branches.

What remains of the Summer Court assembles in a circle around the center of the maze. Men in decorated tunics and women in bright gauzy dresses. Others with vibrant makeup and golden thread woven into their hair, dressed in fine linen and embroidered summer cloaks.

A man steps forward. He wears a jacket made of dark green suede with leaves embroidered in gold across the shoulders. It’s clear he’s someone of importance. It’s in the way he stands, shoulders back, hands clasped in front of him, that gives it away.

The man tilts his chin, regarding my brother with distant interest.

“Who is that?” I ask Arion in a whisper.

“Ozaron,” he answers. “He is High Lord of the Summer Court.”

Great.

“Does he rank higher than you?”

“Not technically,” Arion says below his breath.

“But?”

“But he could challenge me for the throne and he may very well win, given the support he has in court.”

I square my shoulders, ready for another fight.

But then Ozaron turns to address the court and says, “All hail, the Summer King.”

And then the crowd sinks to their knees for my brother.

I leave Arion to handle his new court and his new position.

I need to find Sam. I don’t want to think about what I may find, but I have to see her.

As we hurry back to the palace, I tell Bran what happened, my voice shaking with remorse.

When we reach the palace wall, Bran stops me, his hand on my shoulder pulling me around. “You don’t have to worry, little mouse.”

“But I stabbed her and then I left her and?—”

“Jessie!”

I look up at the balcony that overhangs the garden. Sam is there at the railing.

My throat tightens, my eyes burning. “Oh my god,” I say. “Is this real? This isn’t another trick?”

Behind Sam, Cal saunters out. He’s covered in blood, even though he doesn’t appear wounded. I think it might be Sam’s.

Sam races down the stairs and I run over to her, wrapping her in a hug. She feels solid and warm and real .

“How did this happen?” My voice is muffled by her tangle of hair. She’s a complete mess, but she’s alive .

Sam groans and pulls away. She eyes Cal over her shoulder where he’s literally leaping over the balcony to join Bran at the edge of the garden.

“It’s a long story,” Sam says. “But Cal…” Some color flashes in her cheeks.

“He what?”

“The only way to save me,” she says, “was to bond me to him.”

My eyes get big. “ Shut . Up .”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

I clamp my mouth shut, eyes still big and round. “Mmmhmm.”

She tilts her head, frowning. “I’m serious.”

“Of course.”

“Jessie.”

I’m practically vibrating with excitement.

“Don’t,” she warns.

But I can’t help myself.

“Oh. My. God Sam! You’re bonded to the Midnight Alpha! Holy shit!” I hug her again, squeezing her tight, and she lets out a huff of air.

“Stop it. I don’t want Cal thinking this is a thing.”

“It IS a thing,” he says from afar.

“Whatever.” Sam lowers her voice. “It’s not.”

“It is,” he says again.

“Stop listening in on my conversations!” she shouts back at him.

Bran laughs. I try to hide my grin.

“You both are adorable,” I tell Sam.

“Oh, shut up,” she says and then hooks her arm around my shoulders. “So did you defeat that bitch of a queen?”

I lick my lips and look out over the garden where the Summer Court is slowly trickling back toward the palace.

“Yes,” I answer.

Sam holds up her hand, waiting.

We high-five and then laugh.

“Good job.”

I snort. “I just helped take out a fae queen and you act like I got an A on an essay.”

Sam shrugs. “I mean, pretty much the same thing, right?”

I look over at my best friend, alive and breathing, and I hang my head back and laugh.