Page 238 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

“The shadow lives in her. It does not live in dead things.”

My heartbeat slows. What if Destry’s right? Why wouldn’t she be? “Who would have put her in here?”

“Those little goblin creatures?” But Annika shrugs, then winces, her fingers glancing over the goose egg. Dried blood mats her hair.

“What are we supposed to do?” As soon as I say this out loud, a thought hits me, and the urge to follow through is overwhelming.

Reaching down into the makeshift casket, I grab hold of the blade through my mother’s throat, and I pull.

A deep, rattling gasp sails from her lips as her eyes flash open.

76

Romeria

The night sky hints at daylight as we emerge on the castle steps, our expressions somber. A crowd of mortals lines the stairs, much to our surprise for this hour, including Dagny, Corrin, Pan, Eden, as well as many of the scribes alongside Agatha.

While Atticus says his goodbyes to a tearful Gracen, I pull the old scribe aside.

“You look splendid this morning, Your Highness,” she says.

“Thank you. I found this hanging on my closet door.” A silver, black, and white suit of armor and leather. No wings attached this time. It makes me think there are still wisps and kaeli fluttering about, unseen. “If something should happen to me, this needs to get to Allegra.” I set the Ring of Minerva in her palm.

Her eyes widen.

“I trust you will get it to her.”

“I will find a way, Your Highness.” With a nod, she tucks it into the safety of her breast pocket. “And I am sorry we failed at finding the answers that would help you avoid this terrible battle you must now face.”

“You did find the answer. It just wasn’t the one we wanted.” I squeeze her shoulder. “Take care of everyone for me.”

Her attention settles on my satchel. “May the fates be merciful to you today, Your Highness.”

I sense a deeper meaning in those words, as if the old caster somehow recognizes the deal I made with Aminadav. “That would be a nice change.” I turn my back on her.

“Gesine would be so proud of you,” she rushes to add, bringing a lump to my throat.

Zorya and Loth stand in the middle of the steps, dressed in warrior’s clothing, each strapped with a dozen blades. There’s no question what they’re angling for—a chance to die today rather than remain within the safety of Ulysede, babysitting scribes and humans.

I nod.

“Your Highness.” They dip their heads and then climb into the saddles of the waiting horses.

The Cindrae wait in a line at the bottom of the steps, my crown resting in the palms of Oredai’s upturned hands. The one I intentionally left on my throne not ten minutes ago, when I went into the crypt to fetch Mordain’s ring.

Do not forget your crown.

Oredai’s voice in my head is especially unnerving this morning.

“Right, of course.” Collecting it, I study it for a moment. “What is this made of?”

The bones of elders.

“Huh. Bones. Really.”

It is a necessity as much as an honor.

“Necessity for what?”

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