Page 89 of A Crown of Darkness

It only took a moment. Abruptly, everywhere, the Ilanthian army was dropping weapons and kneeling. The remaining knights and fighters of Asteroth milled between them in confusion, securing the prisoners and removing weapons from reach. But no one had any fight left in them now.

And it was, just as he had said in that voice that was not quite his anymore, over.

‘Finn?’ It was Elodie. There was blood on the white gown she wore, and she had a sword in her hand, along with a fierce light in her eyes. Maryn flanked her, magic still wreathing her hands and a look of murder on her normally sardonic face.

Finn…that was his name still, wasn’t it? Maybe? And he was king now. King of Ilanthus. The Aurum gave a brief, humourless laugh, which came from his lips like that of a stranger.

He was going to tear that kingdom apart. Even if he didn’t want to. Who there would accept him as king? A Knight of the Aurum, a Paladin, with the Aurum itself blazing inside his body. With Nightbreaker in his hands, there was no difference between him and the great light itself. They still thought he’d killed his father. Ilanthus would reject him and there would be civil war and it would be all his fault…

‘Finnian Ward,’ Roland’s voice rumbled and he approached with some care. Roland had never been a fool, after all. He didn’t use titles or royal names of great lineage. Finn had been his since he was a boy.

‘Grandmaster,’ he said, surprised to find that the voice still sounded like his own. ‘Is the city secure?’

‘It is,’ Roland replied, still wary. ‘The queen is safe.’

She wasn’t. Not really. She was standing right there holding a sword and covered in blood. All of it belonging to other people, at least there was that. If anyone was going to keep Elodie safe, it would be Elodie, Finn thought absently.

The Aurum seemed to agree. It might not be best pleased with her still, but even the power of divine light saw her as a force to be reckoned with in her own right now. It was not about to try to command her again.

And then she too was moving, not towards him – she had no interest in him, or the Aurum, whatsoever – but towards the hollow where the Aurum had once burned. Towards a small and crumpled heap on the ground there, clad in shadow-colours and silver, her black hair spilling around her like ink.

Wren!

Something inside him snapped at the very thought of her. Of her, of the Nox, of whatever she was. Something he couldn’t even define. Need and hunger and hatred and love, all tangled together, primal and overpowering.

Elodie gathered Wren in her arms, trying to wake her, to comfort her, reaching for a child who was no longer there. Finn could see that. Shadows burrowed through her body, wove their way through her hair. She was made of night and darkness, sprinkled with the stars and bathed in moonlight.

Finn stalked towards them, Nightbreaker held like an extension of his arm, ready to put an end to it all, ready to kill her at last.

No, not Wren. He couldn’t kill Wren. What was he thinking? What was he doing?

But the Nox had to die. It had been broken once and scattered, and exiled to the beyond, but not gone. He wouldfinish it this time. Not a trace of it would remain, especially not that human form in which it had hidden the last part of itself.

You swore vows, my Paladin, the Aurum told him.To cleave to the light, to serve me, to be my creature. And now you fulfil them. All of them.To fight the Nox, with flame and sword.

‘Finn? What are you doing?’

Anselm Tarryn and Olivier Arrenden blocked his way, still guarding Wren as they had sworn to do. They were knights and Paladins as well. They ought to serve, they ought to bow.

But they didn’t.

‘Stand aside, both of you,’ he told them. Neither of them moved and he scowled at them. ‘I won’t tell you again.’

‘We can’t let you do this, Finn,’ Anselm said calmly.

‘And how will you stop me?’

They were armed, but exhausted from battle. Olivier raised his free hand and Finn saw the tracery of magic beneath his skin. Hardly a weapon, that. The Aurum had taken it from him once and it would again. It remembered the taste and the shape of it. Olivier had given it up willingly. He would beg to do so again.

‘Please, Finn,’ Anselm tried once more. ‘Listen to us.’

‘I’m hardly Finn anymore,’ he warned them. ‘I’m king of Ilanthus and the Aurum made flesh, and a thousand other contradictions. Get out of my way. I can end this, once and for all.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Olivier. Two simple words and Finn didn’t know what they meant until his friend reached out to press his hand against Finn’s chest. It was so simple a gesture, and it didn’t feel like a threat. It wasn’t.

And yet…

A wave of something warm and comforting washed over him, healing energy which flooded him to his core and sent him reeling back as the Aurum tried to reassert its suddenly waning control. Olivier might have given up this form of old magicwillingly as a child but he understood it better now, knew its worth and how to wield it. Knew when it was needed and what to do.

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