Page 107 of A Kingdom of Destruction

His breath tickled her hair, every curl still in place with Nora’s styling. The sensuous silk underneath her dress mighthave once been something to entice Cillian, but now she’d have traded it in an instant for armor. For her wand.

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice rattled her throat and brought the dagger closer yet.

Terror had a mind of its own, taking hold of her body, and despite her best efforts, she began to tremble.

Cillian removed the blade from her throat, and before Aven drew a breath, his magic took hold of her. Invisible threads wrapped around her, pulling her muscles tight and maneuvering her into a standing position against her will. Her eyes went wide, chest heaving, but no matter how hard she pulled, the magic refused to release her.

Slowly, the invisible threads tugged her around to face Cillian as he slowly shuffled to his feet, dusting off the knees of his ceremonial wear. His legs were wobbly until he locked his knees and forced himself to stand straight and tall.

The blond-haired fae male was a stranger to her. His face held none of the compassion she’d gotten used to seeing.

“This sacrifice is the only way for us to truly end the war,” he started, using the dagger to punctuate the statement. He swiped his opposite hand across his face and smeared the blood from the cut. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but my father and I spent years researching this, and it’s the only option left to us. Even with our marriage, King Fergus will not stop coming. He will poison entire generations of mortals against us. Bringing him here only assured us of his intentions.”

Tears slipped free from the corners of her eyes and burned trails down her cheeks.

“Killing me won’t accomplish anything,” Aven insisted. The voice of reason in an unreasonable situation, which was normally Cillian’s job.

Who the hell was this person?

The magic held her entirely still. His face showed signs of strain, lines fanning out from his eyes and his cheeks sunken. He gripped the dagger tightly enough to whiten his knuckles, his tendons straining.

“It’s the only way,” he repeated. “I have to kill you, the only woman I’ve ever loved, sacrifice your blood, heart, and soul to ascend. You’re thekeyto godhood, Aven. Only then will I be able to smite all mortals for what they’ve done.”

Smite…allhumans?

Was he insane?

Panic hit her hard in the stomach, in the chest. She focused on Cillian’s face, waiting for him to realize he sounded absolutely, ridiculously crazy. Waiting for him to come to his senses and let her go.

His mouth tightened. “Trust me when I tell you, if there was any other way, then I would have found it. I love you. You have to believe me. I love you very much. And I hate knowing I made you love me only for it to end this way for us. We’ll never get the future I promised you. I tried my hardest not to paint grand pictures in your head but wound up doing it anyway. Hell, for a little while, I believed it, too.”

There was nothing rational beneath his cool demeanor. He appeared utterly convinced of his righteousness.

“You’re crazy. You don’t have to do this,” she said quickly. She tried to move her fingers and found them slow to respond. He’d taken the control away from her. “A sacrifice? Godhood? Cillian, don’t youhearyourself?”

She didn’t sound convincing enough to make a difference.

“Why is it crazy?” He approached on silent feet and held the knife above her heart. The tip dug into where the silken material met between her breasts and went no further. Staring her down, not one flicker of emotion showed on his face. Except the tears she’d imagined suddenly became real. His eyes went glassy, andhe gave a nod, sending them spiraling toward his chin. “I have to do this.”

Her spine went rigid. “Why me? Why did it have to be me?”

She couldn’t stop it. Nothing mattered anymore. Not as she watched Cillian take a deep breath and, without answering her, shove the knife home.

“Because you were my choice.”

The tip of the blade dug through cloth and muscle and bone easily. Piercing through her ribcage all the way down to her heart in a quick blow. Pain splintered from the area and shot through the rest of her. Bright and terrible and all-encompassing.

“I’m so glad it was you, Aven.”

Silent tears dripped down her face, her heart clenching horribly around the knife. She shuddered, gasped, her body shrieking at the agony as the organ slowly ceased beating.

The last thing she heard before the world went black was the door breaking. Then nothing at all. Aven was floating, disconnected from her body and the world. No going back.

35

Roran was too late.

The rage he’d been suppressing since Aven agreed to the wedding burned inside him, raw and relentless, clawing at his insides like a living thing. His father had laid out their strategy long before the attack on the mortal castle: leave one princess alive, manipulate her into position, and secure peace through marriage.

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