Imatra attempts to harness the fae powers she always claimed she had but the wind is a feeble breeze around her now. The vines she attempts to conjure from the ground shrivel before they can twine around us. Her sputtering power cuts off as abruptly as her scream.
Nathaniel’s weapon sails through her neck, separating her head from her body.
Her magic vanishes.
My chest heaves. My breaths are short and sharp as I look up at Nathaniel.
Silence falls around the battlefield. Every human and fae stops mid-swing, mid-flight, pulling away from each other.
Before I can stand, Nathaniel kneels to me, brushing his palm across my cheek. “Imatra and Cyrian are dead,” he says, his speech formal, as if he’s speaking what he’s required to say. “My Betrayers have fallen. The Fell throne is mine. The Path of the King Betrayed… has ended.”
In the distance, Hagan and Christiana huddle on the bloody ground. Hagan pulls her close, stroking her hair, rubbing her back while she curls up against him, sobbing against his chest. She tilts her head back to see him. I can’t hear what she says to him, but it’s not for me to know regardless.
In the distance, the battle between the humans and fae has stopped. The fae who were loyal to Imatra are retreating beyond the battle lines, a sign that they don’t intend to resume fighting. At least for now.
Serena and the others haven’t landed, soaring cautiously to the side. They fought for the humans, but Nathaniel’s people won’t trust them easily and they must avoid any actions that could be interpreted as aggressive right now.
In the distance, the Vanem Dragon stirs, signs that he’s recovering.
“It’s over,” I whisper.
Nathaniel slides his arms around me, pulling me close while we remain kneeling, but his jaw is tense, his breathing too fast, his heart thudding too rapidly in my ears. I tell myself it’s from the battle, that my own chest is flickering because of exertion. It has nothing to do with the growing dread building inside me.
“Nathaniel?” I tilt my head back to find him looking up at the sky, the same way he looked up before he invoked the Path.
The sky is lighter. The sun will rise soon.
“It’s not over,” he says, a truth I dread.
He crushes me close, but I refuse to release him from my gaze. I start speaking slowly, then more quickly. “The Vanem Dragon said… the Law of Champions was suspended.”
“Suspended. Not over.” Nathaniel brushes my cheeks as if he could hold me forever. He drops his forehead to mine, a light press, but I sense the urgency in his movement.
He whispers what I’m afraid to hear. “I don’t want to fight you, Aura.”
Chapter 26
A shiver rocks my body.
If we refuse to fight, we die at dawn. I don’t know who I’m fighting for now that Imatra is dead, but it doesn’t matter, because I’m prepared to face my fate.
Nathaniel doesn’t want to fight me, but I won’t accept that. I won’t allow him to die.
I shove him away from me, taking hold of my power and containing it within me, even though I want to release it with a scream of anger.
Nathaniel remains kneeling on the ground, his hair clinging to his blood-splattered cheeks, his lips drawn but not without mercy.
My chest heaves as I look down at him, at the halberd that he placed carefully on the ground beside him. I glance behind me toward the east—to the horizon where the sky is brightening with every passing second.
Spinning back to him, my voice is harsh with desperation. “Pick up your weapon.”
He shakes his head, a slow, determined movement, denying me the only thing I need from him.
“Pick up your weapon!”
My scream echoes around us, startling Christiana and Hagan, even the fae and humans who are still recovering in the distance. The hum of my magic courses through the mist and up into the air. A cloud of silver mold moths flutters, disturbed, out of the haze and flies east along the edge of the Gallows, coasting in the air above the dragon before disappearing toward the brightening horizon.
“Nathaniel!” My fist shoots out, thumping his cheek, but he takes the blow, leaning back on his hands instead of retaliating. “You fought for your throne. If you kill me, you can be King of All. How can you throw that away?”
“The throne is safe. Christiana will be a good queen. Hagan will help her. They won’t make the mistakes of the past.”
“But you’ll die!”
He looks up at me, his gaze passing across my face. “I’d rather die than live a hundred years with an empty heart because I killed you.”
The light inside my chest burns, ripping me apart.
I shake my head no.
“You promised me!” I shout, landing a vicious blow against his shoulder, trying to provoke him, needing him to hit back. My fist crashes across his cheek again. “You promised to fight me!”
My blows rain down on his body and head, wild and desperate, but there’s only one thing I can do that might make him move against me.
I lurch for his weapon.
My left hand barely closes around the handle before Nathaniel’s fist whips out and grabs it, pulling the halberd to a halt midair as I try to lift it.
A wary look enters his eyes.
This weapon—the light—is important for the human’s future. He may be prepared to die, but Christiana will need this blade after he’s gone.
My lips twist. Cruel threats spill from my mouth. “I will take the light from you. I will break it. Rip off its blades. Destroy its magic. Burn and melt it. Unless you stop me.”
I wrench the blade upward while he grips it. At the same time, I reach for the liquid sword at my shoulder.
He leaps to his feet, agile and smooth despite how tired he must be.
I strike.
My sword cuts toward his chest. I’m ready to veer to the side if I have to, but his arms shoot up, wrenching the halberd into a defensive position. His weapon’s blade grates against my sword’s wickedly sharp edge, stopping my strike just in time. The blades spark against each other before I leap back into the only clear patch of ground behind me—away from the bodies.
I grip my sword, testing its balance as Nathaniel prowls toward me.
His voice is a low rumble, conveying the danger I want from him. “Don’t do this, Aura.”
I shake my head at him, slowly. “We were always headed here, Nathaniel. From the moment we met.”
He draws himself up to his full height, shoulders back, his weapon held in his strong grip.
His lips draw down, truly angry with me. “No.”
“I’m your enemy, Nathaniel,” I say. “You asked me what I would choose if there was no fae and no Fell. Well, I’m neither. I don’t have a choice because I don’t belong here. I never did.”
He steps into the clear ground and that’s all I need. I’ve already put away the light inside my chest—the fire that burns for him.
Striding toward him, I raise my weapon, sweeping it toward his throat. He blocks the blow, but my left hand shoots out, starlight streaking between us, biting his face and hands. He reacts on instinct, provoked by the pain, his halberd flashing as he cuts the air, blocking my power and forcing me onto my back foot.
He strikes back.