Chapter 48

Agony seared my every sense, billowing out from the center of my chest like a dying star.

I was distantly aware of Cabell's cry of "No!"

My gaze drifted down slowly and I choked on my breath. There was no blood. Lord Death hadn't pierced the skin or broken through my ribs, but his hand was inside me, gripping something. Not my heart. Not my lungs or any other organ, but something vital all the same.

His face leered at me. The revenants were tearing at his skin, leaving the cuts to weep blood. He seemed oblivious to the gashes, even as he licked at the gore trailing over his lips.

I couldn't speak. The moment he shifted his fist to pull it free, it was like my skin was being flayed from the inside. Nothing existed outside that pain.

"Harvesting a soul is quick work," he snarled at me. "But you— you will suffer."

His hand pulled back slowly, so slowly, as if trying not to tear the delicate substance as he peeled.

The revenants encircled me, trying to pull me free of him, but it only made the suffering that much sharper. Then Caitriona and Olwen were there, each gripping my arms, desperately trying to pull me free, shouting something I couldn't hear above the roar of pain in my skull.

At the darkening edge of my vision, a small girl appeared. Her short white-blond hair fluttered around her face. Her knees and shins were bruised, her shoes dusted with old grass and burrs. A too-big plaid raincoat hung from her shoulders. The fear and pain on her face were so sharp, it cut my heart.

Me.

I looked at her, not at the monster.

You're safe, I told her. Don't be afraid.

Creiddylad had faced him alone, but I wasn't.

I felt it now. The decay, not just in his soul, but the physical body he wore. King Arthur had died, and though magic had preserved his body, the traces of that death still lingered in him. And now those faint threads of rot were mine to seize. And through the haze of torment, I imagined it—I saw it so clearly—his organs hardening with bark, his bones turning to vines.

"I was Creiddylad," I gasped out. "You stole her life, but I'm alive. We are alive. "

Lord Death's eyes bulged as he felt it. The vines that were spreading from his ribs, wrapping around his lungs, threading through soft viscera and muscle. He opened his mouth to speak, only to gag on the branches crawling up his throat. Blood poured from his mouth, his nose. The roots and branches bulged sickeningly beneath his skin, tearing through at his shoulder, pushing his icy breastplate into me. Branches broke his teeth as he leered down at me.

Not enough! my mind cried.

Even in the throes of his mortal body's death, his soul still had its grip on mine. I saw it in his eyes, that triumph of death as he pulled harder, harder —

Olwen wrapped her arms around my center. Caitriona plunged her sister's dagger into his face, his neck, wherever she could reach .

My thoughts shattered. I couldn't tell if I was hallucinating the light that flared suddenly behind him. If Neve was really standing there, clutching Excalibur's hilt in her hand, her face glowing in the radiance of her magic.

A single thought blazed through my mind.

Together, to the end.

"Strike true!" Caitriona roared.

I lunged up and forward, ripping the horned crown from Lord Death's head and flinging it away just as Neve surged forward with what remained of Excalibur.

The blade broke through his armor. His back arched as it sliced into his spine, as that blue-white light billowed inside him. Lord Death's breath came as a gurgling gasp. Blackened blood, now foul and rancid, spilled over his lips. The vines I'd made hardened like stone.

His hands twisted in the fabric of my coat, fingers bruising as they clamped around my arm. Trying, with his last breaths, to drag me to hell with him. His lips formed the same word, the same demand, over and over.

"Crei … ddy … lad …"

The skin of his face turned as purple as a bruise, shriveling against the bone. Sheaths of skin melted from his arms and neck, their edges burning away with molten silver fire. He gasped, his burning lips seeming to seek mine.

"Crei … ddy …" His expression was horrible, a pale mimicry of love. The obsession had festered in him so long, it became a fever that burned away any other path he might have taken.

Caitriona dropped the dagger, returning to my side. But as hard as she and Olwen pulled, they couldn't free me.

"Release her!" Neve screamed at Lord Death's smoldering form. She ripped Excalibur from his shuddering body, and this time, drove it through his skull.

Children screeched from beyond the forest, wailing as they tried to reach their master .

I shoved at the armor covering his shoulders and chest, beating a fist against them until they crumbled like dried leather. There was a sharp grunt of "Hah!" and suddenly I was free, falling back against Caitriona and Olwen as the three of us hit the soft bed of the forest floor.

"Crei …"

His face was nothing more than bone and stringy globs of muscle and hardened vine. Only those pale eyes were left to show any sign of shock as his body fell into a pile of ash, killing the grass and flowers that had only just bloomed.

The cries of the Children fell silent; the forest stilled.

Neve dropped Excalibur as she rushed toward us, and the darkness returned.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Depends," I choked out. "Is it over?"

"He is dead, yes," Olwen said.

I gave her a pained look.

"Truly dead," Olwen clarified. She kicked at the pile of bloodied ash and cinders. "Neither he nor Arthur will lay eyes upon this world again."

I searched the trampled, bloodstained ground for any piece of him that remained. But there was nothing left of King Arthur's body.

"No— wait! " Caitriona gasped out. I turned to follow her line of sight, my heart wedging back up into my throat.

The revenants draped themselves over the scorched trees that surrounded the clearing, the rolling mounds of boulders. Their human shapes softened as they were reabsorbed back into the earth, like the final sigh before the descent into sleep. Where there had been ruin, there were now roses, wildflowers, ferns taking root.

"Oh," Olwen whispered, a portrait of unbearable tenderness, and pain.

The lights of the dead rose from the soft lips of petals and stroked the vivid green of the leaves. They drifted into the woods, weaving through the bodies of the old oaks. They were leaving us.

"No!" Caitriona called, leaping from rock to rock after them. Olwen rose and followed her. I clutched Neve's arm, using her to hold me upright. I knew she must have been confused, but just then she was silent, watching the scene play out in front of us.

"Cait," Olwen said, a tear streaking her face. "We have to let them go."

Caitriona didn't listen. "No, please—wait!"

The lights slowed, bobbing in the air as a soft breeze whistled through the tree branches. I followed the sisters but stopped some distance away. The souls surrounded the priestesses, illuminating their devastation.

"Don't go," Caitriona pleaded, reaching for them as if to gently cradle them between her palms. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—I failed you all." She gasped out the words, sobbing, "Please don't leave me."

Olwen wrapped her arms around her, and Caitriona slumped against her.

The voices were as soft as summer rain, echoing and airy. Their familiar tones made my chest squeeze, but it only took three words for Olwen to begin weeping.

"We love you—"

"You are our sisters, always—"

"We will be in every breeze that dries the tears from your cheeks—"

"We will be the steady ground beneath your feet, when you feel you cannot stand a moment more—"

"—in the warmth of the sun that drives out the cold from your bones—"

"You will hear us in the birdsong that wakes you from a dark dream—"

"—and with each echo of your heartbeat—"

Caitriona sank to her knees, and Olwen sank with her. Both accepting the comforting embrace of the earth as the souls of their sisters began their final ascent into the starry night. They whispered, each voice bright with joy.

"We love you—"

"We love you— "

"You are our sisters—"

"Always."

Silvered light streaked through the air behind me, forcing me to turn back toward the clearing. The adrenaline that had finally eased came roaring back.

Lord Death was gone, but his death hadn't sealed the tear between the worlds. Its smoldering edges cut down through the fabric of the sky, bit by bit. The souls of the damned spilled forth from it in a torrent.

Nash's words drifted back through my mind. There must always be a king in Annwn. If he's gone, another will have to take his place. The dead require a warden.

A strange certainty washed over me, as if I had already accepted the choice before recognizing there was one to make.

I couldn't ask this of anyone else or let them believe they should offer. Caitriona and Olwen had already lost everything.

I released my grip on Neve and she carefully made her way to the others. My hands curled at my sides, but they shook all the same. The thought of crossing over into that world and imprisoning myself there after what had become of Creiddylad left me nauseous.

This time, at least, it would be my choice.

I followed the path of the boulders back to the clearing, searching for where I'd thrown the crown of Annwn. Yet, as the mist parted, I saw that someone else had found it first.

Cabell rose through the soft cover of mist, straightening to his full height. Half of his form was missing, blending into the ancient forest. The edging of the mantle of Arthur was just visible, draped over his bare, human body.

He held the horned crown of Annwn like a delicate glass between his trembling hands. Blood and dirt painted his face and the sleeves of tattoos on his arms.

The world tilted beneath my feet.

"Cab, no," I said, staggering toward him. "If you put that on—"

"I know," he said, his dark eyes finding mine .

"You don't," I said.

"It's right … isn't it?" he asked softly. "After everything … it's right. It's all I can offer. I won't use the magic for anything other than collecting souls. I swear it, Tamsin."

"That's not what I meant," I said, struggling over the rough terrain. "If you put that on, you'll be a prisoner to Annwn too, until you die, or someone takes it from you."

He looked down at the antlers and moss that grew around them, the way the shadows adorned them. "Maybe by then I'll have made amends."

"No," I said stubbornly. I stopped a few feet away from him. "Your place is here, in this world."

"It was never here," he said. "You know that now, don't you? Deep down, you know."

Knowing was different than accepting.

I held my hand out, and to my surprise, he came toward it, but not to pass me the crown. He brought his hand to mine, his fingers gently squeezing mine before releasing.

"Cab," I tried again, not bothering to hide the panic in my voice. "Cabell, listen to me."

"Long ago, in a place nearly lost to memory," he began, "a little hound dreamt he could become a boy to keep the sister he loved safe …"

In his eyes I saw the brother I'd lost, the little boy at Tintagel.

"It wasn't a dream, was it?" he whispered. "Those years. All of it. It was real."

"It was real," I told him, my eyes burning.

"Will you still remember me that way?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"Always."

My stomach dropped as he lifted the horned crown and settled it on his black hair. A shiver rolled through his body as sparks of silver magic spread over his skin like chains. I couldn't watch this, I couldn't, but it would have been even more unbearable to look away .

"Look for me," he said, "when winter comes again."

He turned back toward the open pathway, his body straightening as he watched the souls slash through the sky like a meteor shower.

"Cab," I said, feeling the pressure collect in my throat, behind my eyes. "I love you."

His face was in profile, but I saw the small smile all the same. "Don't die."

I drew in a hard breath and dropped into a crouch, digging the heels of my cold palms against my eyes. It wasn't enough to stop the tears.

An unexpected warmth draped over me, easing the tightness of my body as it sank into my skin. A phantom hand ghosted down my back, once, twice. When the wind spoke to me again, whispering into my ear, the painful pressure that had been building inside me released.

You will never be alone.