There would be no forgiveness.
There would be no forgiving herself.
But she’d come too far to turn back now.
Hastily, she snatched the severed wings from the floor, unable to look at them any longer. The feathers oozed with blood as she folded them. The sound made her gag. She pulled a rope from her pocket and tied the bundle into a tight sack. Then she rolled Rafe over the floor and onto the balcony, grunting as the gash in her abdomen burned. Her king would heal it later. For now, there was still work to be done. Cassi tied a hasty bandage around her midsection and turned, surveying the scene.
The room was a gory disaster.
Blood splotches were everywhere. Their feet had left arcs across the dusty floor. Daggers and arrows lay like soldiers fallen on the field. There’d be no cleaning this, not in the time she had. Instead, she tugged at the broken bedframe, half-burnt wood groaning as she pulled the monstrous thing across the room to cover the largest puddle of Rafe’s blood.
Carefully, she scattered the rest of the furniture pieces over the floor, covering the worst signs of battle, and tossed all the weapons over the balcony. She crouched by the fireplace, grabbed the soot, which made her wet, bloody hands pasty, and threw it about the room to cover her tracks. Finally, she ripped the shredded curtains from the window and dipped her fingers into her pocket, pulling out a small metal flint. A few quick slashes and the burnt fabric lit anew, flames bright as she tossed it onto the bed and watched the fire build. The blaze would wipe out any evidence she’d left behind, and any lingering belief the ravens still held in Rafe.
Cassi glanced at him one final time. “I’m sorry.”
The words were more for her, though she knew she wouldn’t feel the true weight of her actions until much later, like a bruise that starts to hurt long after the blow that caused it.
She grabbed him under his armpits to heave his torso over the banister. Their bones were hollow, but he was still heavy as she picked up his not-quite-dead weight from the floor. He hung there for a moment, teetering. Then she lifted his ankles, destroying the careful balance that kept him aloft, and released.
Cassi didn’t watch Rafe fall.
She couldn’t.
She grabbed the bundle of unrecognizable black feathers at her feet and pumped her wings, taking flight, every beat a harsh reminder of the curse she’d just laid upon someone she might have once called a friend.
Cassi tried to focus on the good as she flew—that it was finally over, that she was going home, that by the end of the day the world above would seem like a faraway memory as she showed Lyana the wonders of the world below. Her best friend would forgive her for her lies once she learned the truth, heard the prophecy, and realized who she was. Together they would use their magic to save the world. Lyana would help make Cassi the heroine she’d always wanted to be, instead of the monster she’d become.
From now on, she was done with duplicity.
She was free.
It was over.
Cassi stuck close to the cliff on the underside of the isle, hiding from sight as she maneuvered around the outer edge of the city, only rising above the surface once she was deep in the uninhabited trees and mountains beyond. Cassi arrived at the meeting point just in time to see a tip of white feathers disappear within the hull of a small metal boat. Her king stood outside, arms crossed and alone. The two warriors he’d brought with him, the metal mage and the wind worker, must have already gone inside with the princess, probably preparing to leave. They were all waiting for one thing—her.
Yet Cassi hovered out of sight, behind a layer of branches, as her stomach twisted and a knot jammed her throat, making it difficult to breathe.
Because she had waited for this moment for so long.
So impossibly long.
He would finally see her, the real her. Not the girl she made up in their shared dreams. Not Kasiandra, but Cassi. She looked down. Her trousers were ripped by a knife wound. Her jacket was stained a deep maroon. Her hands were covered in blood. Her face was probably splotched with it, too. She didn’t even want to know how her hair looked—and the wings, the wings she’d hidden from him for so long, felt dirty after what she’d done, not wondrous or powerful or strong.
Her king spotted her before her feet grazed the grass. There was no hiding from his magic. She stepped into the light. His gaze darted over her frame, scrutinizing her. Hers did the same, roving over his features, which she normally saw only in the soft glow of moonlight and the forgiving replication of his dreams.
He looked harsher in the stark light of day. A bronze glow from his time above the mist stained his normally pallid skin, but it only served to make the angles of his face more severe. Sun-kissed strands were streaked across his hair, heightening the contrast. What she noticed the most was that the starlight in his eyes had disappeared. They were dark and cold and as impossible to read as the surface of the ocean clouded by a charcoal fog, as though his soul were still back home even if his body had lived a few days in the sun.
“Kasiandra,” he murmured, voice exactly as she remembered, sending a quiver down her spine.
“My Liege.” Cassi bowed her head in greeting and lifted the package in her hands, the bent and broken wings, trying to find her voice within the revulsion. “The job is done.”
His features gave nothing away as he took the wings from her hands with no smile, no gratitude, no recognition. His lips were drawn in a thin line, hard and grim.
Her heart began to flutter, her throat to burn.
“There was an unfortunate hiccup in the plan today,” he said, tone even.
Cassi swallowed, trying to calm her frantic nerves. Now that he spoke, she recalled the way the ground had quaked a second time, the way the isle had plummeted for a moment, though at the time, she hadn't stopped to think of it. She’d been too lost in the scraping of her knife to absorb anything else.
Her mouth was dry. The question came out like a raspy breath, “What?”
“The raven prince—he saw too much, and then he got away.”
Her pulse took a painful leap. “No.”
The word erupted before she could contain it. Because she could read the command hiding behind what he said, revealing what he wanted. She knew what he was asking.
Oh, she knew.
He frowned. “No?”
“I’m going home.” She shook her head in thick denial. “I’m going home. Lyana will need me. She won’t understand. I’m supposed to be there with her. To help her. I need to be there. I need to go home.”
“Kasiandra.” His voice could be so alluring when he wanted it to be, just like his magic. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to step forward or whether it was he who demanded it—but she did, closing the distance between them. He put a hand to her cheek. Magic smoldered beneath his skin, sinking into hers and healing her wounds. “He saw too much.”
So had she.
She’d done too much—the blood proof was still on her skin.
She couldn’t give any more.
“I’m done,” she said, forceful this time, finally finding her voice.
The king raised his brows. “You’re done when I say you’re done.”
“I’m not a killer,” she snapped and stepped away from his touch, away from his magic, where she could breathe. “I’m not your assassin. I won’t be.”