Chapter 27

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

MIRELLA

L eaves tumbled through the air above me.

So beautiful.

I reached for them—and discovered I couldn’t move my arm. I couldn’t move anything. Numbness spread through me.

But I could still feel the heat of Andrin’s skin as he lifted my hand and pressed it to his cheek. Gold smeared my fingers.

“You’ll get it in your beard,” I said, my voice sluggish in my ears.

“You can wash it out for me later,” he said.

A smile tugged at my lips. We both knew that wasn’t going to happen. But it was nice to pretend.

Rane appeared on my other side, his purple eyes stark in his pale face. A leaf dusted his hair before slowly vanishing. Behind him, Othor slumped on the ground.

“Did you kill him?” I asked Rane.

“Not yet. I thought maybe you’d like to do it.”

Dark humor drifted through me. Andrin’s idea of intimacy was me sharing a bath with him. Rane invited me to execute someone.

“I love you,” I said, looking between them. “Both of you.” The numbness spread to my lips, and I had to try a couple of times before more words would come. “Sorry I didn’t…say it before.”

Andrin kissed my fingers. “You’ll say it again. You’ll tell us tomorrow.”

It was hard to smile. But maybe they could see it in my eyes. More leaves fell, red and gold spinning. The Edeloak’s branches swayed above me as the breeze picked up.

“Save it,” I whispered, finding Andrin’s eyes. “Save Autumn. It’s what I want.”

A tear streaked down his cheek and into his beard. “But…we’ve only just found you.”

Ginhad’s face appeared in my mind, followed by Elodie’s and Nerissa’s. Little Finian and Valina and Yendorn. Vivia with diamonds in her hair. Thraxos and Kassander. Lord Lerendyl with his smiling eyes and questionable clothing choices.

I’d never had friends until I came to Autumn. Now, I had a chance to save them. The children would grow up, their lives unburdened by shadow.

Cold spread through me. My teeth began to chatter. We were running out of time. I drew a ragged breath?—

Othor appeared over Andrin’s shoulder. Eyes blazing, he spoke in a twisting, foreign tongue. Shadowy ropes streaked from his hands, wrapping around Andrin and Rane’s throats and jerking them backward.

“No!” I screamed, the sound lost amid the men’s shouts. Andrin surged to his feet, swinging at Othor. Rane clawed at his neck, his eyes bulging as the ropes wrapped more tightly around his throat. He fell to his knees, his face turning red. Othor was killing him.

With the last of my strength, I rolled to my side. The knife shifted in my chest, sending agony blazing through me. My vision swam as I rose to my knees, pain stealing my breath. Golden blood splattered the ground. It spread around me, shimmering with a million tiny lights. Panting, I tried to stand. My foot slipped from under me, and I went down.

The knife struck the ground first, the blade twisting and thumping to the grass. My mouth stretched on a soundless scream as more golden blood gushed over the ground. Light flooded my vision. Above me, the Edeloak appeared to sway, its leaves shivering.

Rane flopped onto his side, his face purple. Behind him, Othor shot a shadow rope at Andrin’s ankles, then yanked his arm backward, jerking Andrin off his feet.

Fury scorched my veins. Othor thought he deserved to be king. But he was nothing but a thief and a coward.

Rising on numb legs, I stumbled forward, my gaze on Othor. I had no weapons, no magic. But I’d be damned if I let him win. I staggered forward, my toe striking something on the ground.

Othor’s staff lay in the grass, the wood half obscured by dead leaves.

Bellowing, Andrin jerked free of Othor’s ropes. He buried his fist in Othor’s stomach, sending him coughing and gasping to the ground.

I picked up the staff. Magic whispered around me. The Edeloak’s leaves rustled. Gold coated my hands…and seeped into the wood under my fingers.

Hauling his foot back, Andrin kicked the high priest in the shoulder. Othor flopped onto his back.

Rane gagged, his body twitching on the ground. Andrin rushed to him and fell to his knees. He tugged at the ropes, trying to rip them away, but the shadows held.

Wheezing, Othor rolled to his side. “You should have studied harder, Andrin,” he coughed, a vicious smile curving his lips.

Magic built under my hands. Light spread over the staff, power building…building.

“She’s a werek ,” Rane’s voice said in my memories. Andrin’s voice followed.

“It’s a rare gift. You can see through the eyes of others.”

Heat surged in my veins, and I closed my eyes. Visions flashed in my mind, years and centuries passing in a blur. Elves singing and dancing. Leaves spinning through the air. A great battle between men and elves. Power rising—and a great barrier forming, its blue light dividing the realm in two.

A woman with eyes like amber. Kings with crowns nestled among their flowing hair. Children laughing as they raced among the trees. Shadows dappling the ground. Leaves tumbling.

So beautiful.

My heart stuttered—and then thundered in my ears. The visions sped up, a thousand years passing in a blink. Faces sped through my memory, lives forming and flashing and winking out. But they endured, each one spreading through the tree.

Through me .

Magic roared in my veins.

I opened my eyes. Instead of a staff, I held a spear in my hands.

Andrin bent over Rane. Othor stood, his robes swinging behind him. He pushed his blond hair from his eyes—which widened as they fell on me.

“You wanted power, Othor,” I said, my voice rippling across the King’s Grove. I hefted the spear. “Here it is.”

I hurled the spear. It streaked across the grove, impaling Othor through the heart.

He staggered back, his eyes wide with shock. For a moment, he stayed upright, light spreading over his face. It rushed everywhere, illuminating him. Then, little cracks spiderwebbed across his skin. They spread up and down his body, forming rifts in his robes and hair. He grimaced, then opened his mouth on a scream.

Light flared. Othor exploded, a thousand pieces of light scattering before winking out. The spear thumped to the ground.

The ropes dropped from around Rane’s neck. Coughing and gagging, he rubbed his throat. Then, slowly, he and Andrin looked at me.

“Your chest,” Andrin rasped.

I looked down. The wound in my chest was closed. My hands shook as I tugged the edges of my ruined bodice apart. My skin was healed, with no sign of an injury.

Leaves crunched, and Andrin and Rane appeared in front of me. Andrin reached for me, then stopped when a loud groan sounded behind him.

Together, the three of us turned toward the Edeloak. The hidden wound appeared and then slowly closed, the injury vanishing. At the tree’s base, the black rot faded, replaced with healthy bark. The golden glow around the Edeloak dimmed and then faded completely. The tree was still beautiful, but now it was…ordinary.

My heart thumped harder—and the beats had never felt sweeter. Andrin and Rane looked at me, twin expressions of awe on their faces. Slowly, Andrin tipped my chin up.

“Your eyes…” he whispered. “They’re brighter than before.”

Rane swallowed hard. His hand shook as he tucked my hair behind my ear. “Oh,” he said, his voice an octave higher than usual.

I reached up and felt my ear, encountering a tapered point. “Oh,” I said, my voice matching Rane’s.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“That’s one way to put it,” Andrin murmured. He placed a gentle palm over my chest, letting my heart thump against his hand. He looked toward the Edeloak. “Thank you,” he rasped. When he turned back to me, tears sheened his eyes. “It didn’t make me choose. It chose for me. The Edeloak gave you its heart.”

Emotions spun through me. Gratitude. Wonder. Fear.

“I’m not sure what it means,” I said.

Andrin smiled. “Me neither. But it’s going to be fun finding out.”

Rane turned and retrieved the spear from the ground. When he straightened, it was a staff once more. He brought it to me. “I believe this is yours now.”

I took the staff, which fit against my palm like it had been carved for me. If my heart was the Kree, did that make me part…tree? I lifted my head. “Do you think this means I can’t leave Ishulum?”

The men looked at each other, one of their unspoken exchanges passing between them. When they turned back me, Rane lifted my hand, murder dancing in his eyes.

“I have an idea, my lady.”

Moments later, I walked through the passageways of Purecliff with Andrin and Rane on my heels and magic singing in my veins.

Overturned furniture and broken glass littered the ground. Judging from the state of the fortress, the servants had looted as they fled. I couldn’t blame them. My father had ruled with a golden, merciless fist. Undoubtedly, House Lornlark would fall now, our secret heritage exposed. The crown would probably confiscate the land and fortress. Fine. I didn’t want them. There was nothing for me in Eftar.

Before I left for good, however, I had one final task to attend to.

When I reached my father’s bedchamber door, I paused and drew a deep breath.

“You all right?” Andrin said, resting a warm hand on my shoulder.

Rane slid a knife into my hand. “We’re right here with you,” he whispered.

I smiled at him. “Thank you.”

Pushing the door open, I stepped into the shadowed chamber.

My father lay on the bed, his chest rattling as he struggled to breathe. The few remaining tufts of hair clinging to his spotted scalp were white. His skin sagged, flakes sloughing off with every labored breath he drew. His golden fist was missing, his stump resting atop sheets stained with body fluids as he decomposed.

He bared yellow, broken teeth as we approached the bed. “Come to gloat?”

I stopped at the footboard. “No, Father. I simply came to ask why.”

A bitter-sounding laugh rattled from him. “You ask me that,” he wheezed, “when you stand before me knowing you will never die.” A tear trickled from one rheumy eye. “I was…scared.”

Sympathy rose in my chest. As swiftly as it came, it retreated. “You killed my mother.”

Something flickered in his eyes. He groaned, thick, yellow liquid oozing from his ear to soak the pillow beneath his head. His chest rattled as he struggled to speak. “I…loved…”

My throat burned, and I shook my head. “You didn’t love her. Always, you’ve loved only yourself.” I gripped the footboard as questions spun through my mind. Othor had died before I could get answers. But I had a chance to get them now.

“Why did you push me to marry?” I demanded. “You wanted the Kree, yet you were willing to ship me all the way to Midpeak.”

At first, it appeared he wouldn’t reply. Then he snorted, blood bubbling from his nose. “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore,” he muttered as if speaking to himself. “You were still mortal. You would have died eventually, taking the heart with you.”

Shock stole my breath, a lifetime of wondering finally put to rest. “You wanted heirs,” I said, my throat tight with growing disgust. “I saw what you did to my mother…and to me. You would have done the same thing to my child, raising your own grandson or granddaughter as a living vessel for the Kree just so you could stay close to it and live forever.” He hadn’t cared about his legacy. No, he’d wanted to save his own skin.

He glared at me, his breathing growing more labored.

“It wouldn’t have worked,” I said. “The shadows would have devoured Autumn and then Eftar. Eventually, they would have devoured you too. But you didn’t think of that, did you? Your selfishness was too absolute.”

Nothing. Only silence as my father maintained his hateful glare.

“How did you trick the servants?” I asked. “How did you keep them from noticing you never aged?”

He clamped his mouth shut, stubbornness settling over his ruined features.

The footboard creaked under my hands. Looking down, my heart sped up. I closed my eyes and let magic build under my hands. Images flashed in my head, servants weeping as they stood in my father’s bedchamber requesting time off for a loved one’s funeral.

“I have no idea what happened, my lord. One day, she was well. The next, she was gone.”

I opened my eyes, disgust twisting my stomach as I stared at my father. “You killed them. When someone grew suspicious, you killed them, too.”

He narrowed his eyes, his breathing growing more ragged.

“No one is guaranteed tomorrow, Father. Not even the elves. You spent so much time running from death, you forgot to live.”

He gasped, his chest heaving. Bony fingers clutched at the sheets. Watery blood trickled from his mouth. The aging process sped up, the years rushing him all at once. With another ragged, wheezing breath, his chest stilled. His nose shriveled and rolled from his face, bouncing and finally coming to rest on the mattress near his shoulder. After another moment, his corpse turned to dust.

For a long moment, silence stretched. Then, Andrin turned me toward him. His big arms circled me, and he pressed his lips to my ear as Rane stroked my hair from behind.

“Let’s go, my love,” Andrin said. Taking Rane’s hand in one of his and mine in the other, he pulled us to the shadows in the corner. A second later, we stepped into the King’s Grove, where we’d left the Edeloak staff leaning against the ancient tree.

Andrin brought it to me and extended it. “This belongs to you now,” he said softly, “High Priestess of the Autumn Court, Lady of the Embervale, and Keeper of the Kree.”

Nerves fluttered in my stomach as I accepted the staff. “That’s a lot of titles.”

“The last one could use some work,” Rane said, a little smile playing around his mouth.

Andrin shot him a disgruntled look. “It’s a work in progress.” His irritated expression cleared as he took my hand. “As it happens, I have another title in mind.”

My heart sped up. “You do?”

He nodded. Drawing my hand to his lips, he brushed a kiss over my knuckles. “It would make me very happy if I could call you my queen.”