I lean over Treble’s neck and ask him to land as close to the Vanem Dragon as he can. It’s best if Nathaniel and I avoid our monarchs as much as possible.
When Treble lands lightly, coming to a stop near the dragon, I leap from his back, somersault to the ground, and then rise to my feet, clinging to the sensation of the rushing wind against my cheeks.
Turning back to Treble, I wrap my arms around his neck. “I love you, Treble. I need you to take to the sky now and fly clear of this battle. Don’t fly back to me, no matter what happens. Even if I call you. Okay?”
He shakes his head at me, butting his forehead against my torso, refusing to leave, but I stroke his neck, my voice lowering. “Remember when you were angry with me two nights ago for leaving you behind? Nathaniel told you that I would take risks, that you would spend your life worrying about me, but you’d love me anyway…”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I need to know that you’ll be alive at the end of this. Please, Treble. Do this for me.”
Treble closes his eyes. He nudges his head against my shoulder for a moment before he keens softly in agreement.
“Fly clear of Imatra’s birds,” I say. “Seek shelter in the crystal peaks. Don’t come down from the northern mountains until Nathaniel is king. He will protect you. Now, go!”
Treble beats his wings, making a cracking sound that thuds through me as he rises off the ground and soars into the sky. I follow his careful flight along the clear gap between the armies, out past Crispin’s birds, and then east as he flies wide of Imatra’s army and safely away.
I let out my breath, relieved that none of the other birds attempt to intercept him, grateful that Treble will be safe now.
I’m grateful that he won’t be here to see my end.
Cadence landed while I was speaking with Treble. As Nathaniel steps carefully down her wing, he removes his sword from the harness at his back and hands the weapon to Evander. I’m not sure what he’s doing until he slides his halberd into the empty slot where the sword used to be. He had to carry his weapon before, but now his hands are free.
Evander remains behind with Cadence as Nathaniel strides toward me. I’m already as close to the Vanem Dragon as I need to be.
Nathaniel stands taller than all of the fae and humans on either side of us, his broad shoulders held back, moving with the same stealth with which he attacked me on the morning he walked out of the mist. His expression is shadowed, his hair falling across his face adding to the darkness in his eyes.
He is as merciless now as he was in the moments I first set eyes on him and I’m grateful. I pull myself upright, setting my own emotions in place. Only three days ago, I wore a careful mask over my emotions, teaching myself not to feel anything. Since then, Nathaniel has brought every emotion out in me, but now I need to bury my feelings again.
My arms and hands are relaxed, but I’m poised to react at any moment, my senses heightened and the glow around me increasing. I am stern and unreachable.
Nathaniel’s dark gaze rakes across my face and lips as he draws level with me.
We turn in unison and take a knee in front of the dragon.
The Vanem Dragon’s growl thrums through me. “Rise, Aura of the Lucidia, who has discovered her true self. You are old magic. Far older than me. You will not bow to me again.”
I lift myself, meeting the dragon’s deep brown eyes. Fire burns inside the beast’s mouth as he lowers his head to mine.
He inhales, and his eyes close for a moment. “It is an honor to meet a Lucidia. I only wish I had sensed your true nature sooner, but it was hidden from me, the same way my sight went dark on the night you were born.”
“Many truths have been hidden until now,” I say.
“Indeed.” The dragon draws back his head, his eyes brightening as he addresses Nathaniel. “Rise Nathaniel Exalted, the true Fell King.”
When Nathaniel draws upright, the beast casts his gaze across Nathaniel’s weapon with growing reverence. “Bright Heart,” the dragon says, dipping his head and lowering his shoulders in a deep bow. “You kept the light.”
“I will protect it for as long as I live,” Nathaniel says. “I ask only that you give it to someone worthy if I die today. Whether that person is fae, human, or…” He glances at me. “Someone precious to me.”
The dragon’s smile fades. Deep sadness settles in his eyes. “I will honor your request, Nathaniel Exalted.”
The dragon swings his mighty head toward Imatra and then to Cyrian, his voice rising in a fiery roar. “The monarchs will approach!”
Imatra strides through the flower field with two of her guards beside her. I know them only vaguely—one is a Solstice fae, the other is a Dawn fae. It’s a wise combination. The Solstice fae can protect her while the Dawn fae can heal her if she’s injured.
Cyrian approaches on our left, his black hair slicked back and his upper lip shadowed by growth. Snake and another hunter stride beside him, both of them carrying an arsenal of weapons. Neither of the hunters is as intimidating as Hagan, but I remind myself that Nathaniel’s mother trained them. Esther was correct when she taught the human trainees that fae take a second to harness their powers. These hunters could strike down any number of fae before the fae could retaliate.
Imatra throws her head back, a disinterested expression on her face as she returns Cyrian’s hard stare.
“You have both brought your armies to this battle,” the dragon growls at them. “Do you intend to break the Law?”
Imatra blinks at the dragon. “Never,” she says. “I will honor the outcome reached today.”
Cyrian smirks. “I’m here only to support my champion.” His smile fades as he casts a glare at me. “It appears that the fae champion has already been given the advantage of armor.”
Cyrian raises his hand, the merest twitch of his fingers, and one of the hunters steps forward carrying a suit of armor. I recognize it as the armor Nathaniel’s father was wearing when he died.
Nathaniel stiffens beside me as the hunter hands it to him. It’s mahogany, the same color as Christiana’s armor, but a golden emblem is emblazoned on the front depicting Nathaniel’s family name—the same curve of the moon and rays of the sun as the marks that remain on my left shoulder and above my heart.
“You will find that the three unfortunate cuts in the back of this armor have been repaired,” Cyrian says, a cruel twist on his lips. He tips his head at Imatra, as if to acknowledge her part in his path to becoming the King of the Fell.
Imatra’s jaw clenches before her expression becomes deadpan.
Nathaniel is quiet as he holds the suit, pressing his palm over the emblem on the front. “I accept this armor and vow to honor the warriors who wore it before me.”
“Very well,” the Vanem Dragon says. “The monarchs will both—”
He pauses, his head swinging toward the western end of the Misty Gallows beyond the location of Cyrian’s hunters. A commotion builds as figures emerge from the mist—a hundred humans wearing beige clothing and carrying a multitude of weapons.
It’s Nathaniel’s people.
I recognize Esther’s golden hair as the human army takes up position in the gap at the western end of the two armies.