“You could try,” I said despite the lack of sign. Maybe it would be enough.
“I’ve never shown any sign of magic,” he warned us.
“We have to try,” Quinn decided, and he didn’t protest.
I looked to him. “If we can take the thrones, we stand a chance.”
We made our way to the thrones, and Quinn paused at the dais. “That one,” she said, her voice full of awe as she looked toward Mariana’s throne. “It’s pulling me.”
I gave her an encouraging smile, the world rocking beneath our feet. A fissure cracked along the stone floor, and I shouted, “Hurry.”
Quinn climbed the platform quickly, wasting no time. My heart in my throat, I turned to Lysander. A muscle worked in his jaw, and he shook his head slightly.
Before we could ascend the dais, music swelled around us, notes joining as magic healed. Quinn’s dark eyes widened as a blinding light settled over her, and a crown of seashells appeared on her black hair. The air stilled, the enchantment placated for the moment.
But it wasn’t enough. Only three Queens could return the power to the source. Only three Queens could set our cursed family and friends free.
I looked at Lysander and whispered. “Try.”
He took a deep breath and walked toward Zina’s vacant throne. There was a moment of hesitation, his solemn face quiet with prayer before he sat.
Nothing happened.
I strained to hear the magic, listening for any change, listening for its powerful symphony, but it remained the same. Calmed but not whole. Tears clawed up my throat and found my eyes. I blinked them back furiously.
“I’m sorry.” Lysander’s head fell forward, but not before I caught a glimpse of defeat shadowing his eyes.
“We’ll find a way.” Magic was stable. There were others in the city that had not come to the wedding. I knew it. I just had to find one we could trust.
Beneath the dais, a seam split open, inky water spilling out in poisoned waves like blood from an opened vein. The salt of the sea mingled with the fresh air and filled my lungs. My mouth watered, my stomach churning at its thick briny aroma. Magic was coming apart at the seams, and I had no way to stop it.
“It didn’t work,” Quinn cried, clutching her chair with white knuckles. “The spells are putting too much strain on the source. I can feel it.”
That’s why Willem had waited for us all to be here. He’d known that his plan would only work if three magical beings ascended the thrones. I looked at the bodies scattered on the floor. Mariana and Zina had died from the dagger, its curse stealing not only their lives but their magic.
“We have to—”
The roof caved in, cutting me off. Lysander threw himself over me, shielding me from the falling debris.
There wasn’t time. We were going to lose. If only...
A loud crack sounded in the room, and I braced myself for impact. But Lysander drew up, shouting something. Lifting my head, I discovered Aurelia standing near the thrones.
“What are you doing here?” I shouted. “My mother—”
“Is safe.” She forced a grim smile. “I thought you might need me.”
I stared at her elegant pointed ears, at that unearthly beauty she no longer dimmed. Lysander gawked beside me, seeing her again for the first time.
Fae. She was Fae. And while I’d been warned against their magic, I knew two things. I could trust Aurelia and her magic. As if to prove my suspicions correct, silver strands of light wove around her head, anointing her. Magic was fighting to survive. I would fight along with it until my last breath.
“Take the throne!” Her eyes widened as her lips pursed to say no. But I shook my head. “There’s no time. Trust me. Take the throne.”
Aurelia leaped onto the dais, carefully avoiding Lysander’s pained gaze. She wasted no time taking the seat. The air shimmered around her, and she let out a small shriek as a crown of jagged obsidian shards appeared on her head.
It took effort not to collapse with relief. The world quieted entirely. Lysander knelt beside me, bowing his head in reverence.
“What the hell are you doing?” Aurelia asked, eyes still wide and fearful. “Get up.”