Page 12 of A Petal in the Crown

"I’m sorry," she said again, "for the mess I made for you. For making it so difficult. Maybe if I’d helped you learn to control your powersinstead of taking them away, you would have been better equipped to fight against the Black King and Alaric."

"You did your best," Lea repeated, absolving her, because truly, Lea didn’t blame Adelaide. Shehaddone her best. Just as Lea had done her best by choosing to send Gray back in her place. And wasn’t that what they were all trying to do?

"I have been with you," Adelaide said, smiling through the tears spilling over her eyelashes. "When you’re in danger, I feel it. Here." She placed a hand on her chest, right above her sternum. "When you need me, I’m pulled to where you are—"

"The wind," Lea interrupted.

"Yes," Adelaide breathed. "The wind."

Lea’s heart pinched. She had known, in some deep part of her, that it was her mother who had been guiding her. And while she hadn’t been able to save her in her final moments on earth, Lea would be eternally grateful that she had met her here in her first moments in the afterlife.

Chapter 8

Gray

Gray barely spoke. Barely looked anywhere other than his fallen mate’s face. With quick, demanding sentences, he ordered Erik to gather the moonflower petals and bring them to the battlefield. He couldn’t focus on anything else. There was no fire, or wind, or rain. There was no air in his lungs or stars overhead. There was nothing but grief and pain.

Gone.

She wasgone.

She had deceived him. Fooled him. And now she waited beyond the veil, trapped and suffering beneath the weight of her own power.

Save their people, and return to Lea. That was all Gray could think about. He wouldn’t let her sacrifice be for nothing—refused to let that sacrifice be in vain.

Forcing his feet forward, Gray kept his eyes on Lea’s face. Her beautiful blue eyes—closed forever. Blood splattered through her hair. Her cheeks gaunt and sunken in.

The agony at seeing her this way was all-consuming, and so deep, he was sure it was tattooing itself on his bones.His heart felt heavy and dead, his soul in tatters, and every breath was like swallowing downshards of glass. Each inhale felt like a betrayal, because he shouldn't be breathing. Not when Lea wasn't.

One foot in front of the other. That was all he could do. Save his people. Find Alaric, and kill him. Slowly and agonizingly.

The battlefield appeared beyond the hill, and he forced his eyes from Lea’s face to assess the damage. He needed to compartmentalize. Shut off the part of himself yearning to give in and burn down the world, and focus on saving his kingdom.

His soldiers went silent as he approached, turning one by one as they became aware of his presence. He stepped over the line of burned grass spanning the entire field, the evidence of the shield of fire Lea had placed around their army as they’d left to face Alaric.

He wished he’d made her stay behind, far away from Alaric and his crusade of death.

Painstakingly slowly, Gray knelt, lying his mate’s body on the soft, unburned ground. He tenderly brushed her hair from her face, then tugged her shirt down to cover the sliver of midriff showing. His shadows floated around her, weeping as they brushed her skin, begging her to come back to them.

Gray lifted his chin, meeting Vincent’s eyes for a long moment. His sorrow was palpable, despair hanging thickly in the air like a dense fog. Gray rose, taking a deep inhale and nodding to Janelle, who began handing out the petals. One for each soldier. His sacrifice, his mate's sacrifice, to heal and protect them.

In their tear-filled eyes and shaking hands, Gray could see they recognized what had been given in order to save them. What he had lost. It was clear in the way their throats bobbed and their gazes remained downcast. In the sniffles and red-rimmed eyes.

Minutes passed as Janelle finished handing out the cure to the Lonely Death—to the injuries for those who had survived. The field remainedsilent as every rebel ate their petal, whether injured or not. Color returned to cheeks and wounds disappeared from throats and arms and chests, lacerations closing over, broken limbs healing. It didn't cure what ailed them past the physical. Their hearts were scarred—would be forever. But his? It was eviscerated.

And nothing would ever be able to heal it.

Swallowing down the pain threatening to drag him back inside himself, he cleared his throat.

"Alaric is alive."

Sharp inhales and muttered curses spread throughout the soldiers.

"He’s been weakened. Many of his soldiers slaughtered." And they had been. Nearly every one of them who had not fled in time now laid decimated throughout the streets of Bearswillow. As they’d walked from Lea's burned-down house, Gray had stepped over at least a hundred dead royal soldiers, their eyes wide and mouths open with black lines spider webbing from the bloody orifices. Gray wasn't sure exactly what Lea had done to them, orhowshe had done it. But whatever it was, it had been horrific, as if she had sent her darkness to eat them alive from the inside out.

"Your queen—" Gray's voice cracked, and he stopped speaking, closing his eyes and begging his body to hold it together. Just for now. Just until he was alone.

"Your queen sacrificed herself for the cure," Erik said, stepping forward. A rush of gratitude wrapped around Gray's tattered heart.

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