Page 55 of The Realm That Falls to Her

Evanthe snaps Pyromey’s other ankle and then, without pausing, wrenches on her arm so hard it dislocates her shoulder. Pyromey convulses in agony, and I feel tears dampening my cheeks. Evanthe is so strong—the Unseelie woman’s shoulder bone presses sharply against her skin, her arm hanging uselessly at her side.

“Hand them over,” Evanthe demands.

Lisinder’s face is pale as snow, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he turns to look at Ruskin and me. We say nothing, but I grab Ruskin’s hand, afraid for us, afraid for Pyromey, and hating the decision that Evanthe is forcing us all to make.

Lisinder looks back at Evanthe and slowly shakes his head.

“My subjects—my family—will happily die with honor, if that’s what the Unseelie Kingdom asks of them. I will not bow to your threats, nor will I indulge your madness. So I will not negotiate with you, Evanthe Dawnsong. But may you be cursed by this court for the evil you have demonstrated on this day. The Unseelie will not forget it.”

Evanthe’s smile widens.

“So be it.”

She grabs Pyromey’s head, jerking it back. One single, sharp motion, and another snap rings through the chamber. Someone shouts, and I look to see Jasand falling to his knees, his face ashen. When I look back in the pool, Evanthe is dropping Pyromey’s lifeless body to the floor, her neck broken.

Lisinder stands firm, but I can see his hands are shaking. He balls them into fists, his eyes aflame with hate. Evanthe simply straightens, brushing out her skirts.

“Let us be clear, King Lisinder. You would do anything for your kingdom, and I will do anything for mine.”

The water ripples once more, and again the viewpoint of the portal shifts, revealing that the shadowy figures behind her aren’t just the Hunt, as I had expected, but a small army. High Fae stretch behind her on a grassy plain, their faces too numerous to pick out many individuals. What I do notice is a group of structures sitting in the distance behind them.

“I will continue to exact reparations from the Unseelie Kingdom,” she continues, “until you hand over what is mine.”

Lisinder steps closer to the pool edge, baring his teeth.

“You have made the gravest of errors, Evanthe, and when death comes for you, I will take comfort in knowing I have hastened it, in the name of my niece and my kingdom.”

“By the end of the day, Lisinder, I suspect you will be more willing to negotiate. Bring them to me, or I shall do to your kingdom what I did to your niece.” I recoil, turning my head away, as she kicks Pyromey’s corpse so hard the limbs jerk horribly.

The water ripples, and she is gone.

Lisinder unleashes the roar he appears to have been holding back, and it bounces around the cavern, reverberating in my ears in the same way as the snap and crunch of Pyromey’s bones—and her neck. One by one, members of the Unseelie Court join him, until the place is filled with a staggering sound—half-lament, half-battle cry.

Jasand fights his way to the front, his sword half drawn like he could run Evanthe through here and now. “My Lord, what does this mean? We’ll fight her, won’t we?”

“That was Cavalil behind them,” says Lady Flardryn, gesturing to the pool. “It’s half a mile from the border, mostly inhabited by Low Fae.”

“Then we should assume that’s where she intends to strike first,” Lisinder says. He turns to Ruskin and me.

“It is clear to me now that you were right, and the Evanthe I knew is dead and gone. She is a distortion of herself, her mind and heart poisoned beyond recognition.”

“I’m so sorry, my Lord, about Pyromey,” I say, my voice cracking on her name. And maybe it’s unwise, but I can’t help but voice the guilt twisting my gut. “She was in the borderlands because I’d told her about some murders there,” I confess. “If I hadn’t told her?—”

“Pyromey was only doing her duty. Yesterday you saved her life, you can hardly be blamed for her death today.”

I remember Pyromey’s words as she watched her ursinian plunge from the cliff: We all have to go sometime. She’d said it as if death was just an adventure waiting to happen. It gives me some small comfort, and I find myself hoping that wherever her soul is now, it’s embarking on its next adventure.

I swallow back fresh tears as Lisinder continues to address us, his tone gentle but firm.

“Understand that what I do now is not for you, but for Unseelie,” he says.

Ruskin nods. “I understand, Uncle.”

This is about honor and vengeance, I realize, and Lisinder wants us to know that he’s going to fight to avenge the offense that Evanthe dealt to the Unseelie Court. It’s not quite the same as Lisinder going to battle for Ruskin—or for his claim to the throne.

Lisinder turns and addresses Jasand. “Gather the warriors, the young and the seasoned, enough for a militia to match her forces. Once armed we will ride out to Cavalil. Move fast. An attack on the settlement may already be underway.”

The crowd breaks apart as Unseelie dash to spread the message and prepare for battle. There’s a buzz of energy in the air—they’re hungry for this. Perhaps no Unseelie could stand and watch such violence against one of their own without it awakening a fire in their blood. When I look up at Ruskin, I can see it in his eyes, and I feel it too. I want to make Evanthe pay for what she did to Pyromey.

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