Page 131 of Crown of Wrath

The image of me asks,“How’d you keep training? How’d you keep getting better every day? You didn’t have a father to lean on. There wasn’t anyone forcing you to keep getting up every day. Your life was terrible, and the only one forcing you to work this hard was yourself. Why? You hated everyone.”

I remember asking that. I remember wondering how anyone could keep fighting when you felt so alone.

He smiles at me, not at the image of a younger me. “I didn’t hate everyone. I loved Darian and Lee like family should. I cared about Nevan. I even cared about Rhion, Maeve. We’re not responsible for our fathers’ mistakes, and I knew, deep down, that eventually I would be put to the test. I would have to protect the people and things that mattered. I would need to be strong enough to do the hard things, to fight battles only I could win. So I trained. I fought for the ones that I loved.”

I remember him telling me that. I remember it making sense before, but the vision changes from a memory and becomes something different—a message from him. The last thing he’ll ever say to me. “Now it’s your turn, Maeve. You swore you wouldn’t let yourself be consumed by the darkness again. You promised me you wouldn’t break. Don’t let this world we’ve worked so hard to protect fail because you’re not here. Do as I did. Train. See me at the end of your spear, pushing you forward. Become the strongest Immortal ever to live. Teach Echo to be strong. Show Rhion what it is to be compassionate. Help my father choose a new Conduit. Be strong for the ones I’m leaving behind because I can’t be strong for them anymore.

“I love you, Maeve. More than anything in the world. I will wait for you. There is no till death do us part for soul bonds, and I will stand on the edge of the void waiting for you. I will never stop loving you, never stop waiting for you. Not even the void can pull me away from you.”

The tears fall down my cheeks unchecked, and I whisper, “But it hurts too much.”

“Pain is good, Maeve. Embrace it like I did. Like you did when you rebuilt your soul. Embrace the pain and remember that it’s me that caused it. You’re stronger than I ever was. I wish I could help you carry the weight as you helped me, but I can’t. Let some of the others carry the weight too. Darian and Lee. Rhion. Echo.You are not alone, Maeve. Carry it as far and as long as you can, and I’ll be waiting for you on the other side. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I whisper. “Forever.”

The image fizzles and I slowly realize that I’m not standing in the training room in the House of Flames. The funeral pyre is still burning behind me, and I’m staring into Sia’s eyes. Tears rain down my cheeks, and the wind that feeds the fire behind me carries them away.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. It doesn’t matter, though. She’s listening to my mind more than my words.

Maeve, he’s right. You’re not all alone. I don’t know you well, but I know Cole better than anyone else, except maybe you. He would want me to be here for you. He was terrified of anything happening to you once he was gone. He gave me a chance to be happy in this world, and I’d do anything to help him, even now. I am forever at your service, Queen Maeve. Whatever you need.

I nod to her, thankful that she delivered the message, but not sure I can think about anything other than Cole right now. Another tremor of pain makes my body tense up, and I grit my teeth.

You are not the first person who has lost someone soul bound to them. I have felt the pains before. I can… help you talk to him again. I can show you memories, or even memories that have never occurred.

A sob rises in my throat. “Thank you,” I say and turn back to the bonfire, my emotions even more ragged than before, and I watch my world burn to ash.

Hours pass, and I don’t move from my place. Many other people, even Lee and Rhion, leave. I don’t care. Their friend died. My world did. They are not the same.

When the last flame sputters out and the dawn peeks its head over the horizon, I walk toward the pyre and choose a fist-sized red-hot ember. I pick it up, and the sound of my skin sizzling isfar more distracting than the pain of it. At this point, nothing can compare to the agony in my breast.

I notice Casimir staring at me, the only other person to stay until the last bit of flames had died out. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“This is the last piece of Cole’s fire,” I say. “I don’t know why, but I need it. I need to keep this piece of him.”

Casimir nods, but he doesn’t say anything. As I walk back toward the House of Flames, he doesn’t ask questions. I can’t shadow walk right now. The thought of desire or revulsion seems impossible. There is only one thing that makes sense to me. I need to get to Cole’s chambers because they smell like him. I need to breathe him in again, and maybe then I’ll know what to do next.

Chapter 65

My father was the greatest King the House of Steel ever had. He was clever and strong enough to beat every other Great House by himself. It was only because I betrayed him that he lost. Yet, I did not mourn him. The House of Steel is better with him gone. His funeral pyre was empty. Even the dwarves did not see him into the void. Casimir was the weakest of them all, and all of us shed tears at his passing. Sometimes, being strongest does not matter nearly as much as we assume it does.

~Rhion Rahn, The Future of Magic and Dragons

Maeve

Three days have passed, and everyone has told me how much of a hero Cole was. They’ve waxed on about how he was aninspiration. They even went as far as to wish they could have done anything to help.

All I want to do is choke the life out of them. The other High Fae and Lesser Fae didn’t help him. He had to force their hands as the Shade to get anything to happen. They all saw the problems, and they did nothing.

They are the reason that Cole is dead as much as Gethin. Obviously, they had nothing to do with the fight, but they didn’t help. They hid and hoped someone else would fix our slowly failing world.

If they’d have fought, if they’d have pushed to protect the world rather than themselves, maybe Gethin wouldn’t have had that damned Gauntlet or Burning Brand. Maybe we would have been able to fight him in the open together.

They didn’t, and now they’re trying to offer me their condolences because it’s what they’re supposed to do. When the most powerful person in the world controls the House of Earth, the Painted Crown, holds all the House relics that Gethin was hunting for, and rules the city, you do whatever groveling you need to do. I understand it, and I hate it all the same.

I sit on the Throne of Earth and try to ignore the fact that my right hand is cramping from digging my nails into the agate of the Throne. It’s all I can do to keep from lashing out at the High and Lesser Fae in front of me.

Three days have passed, and the pain in my chest is just as agonizing as it was the moment I watched Cole fall. Every few moments, my body feels like it’s being hit by lightning. The blackened piece of wood in my left hand shines in the bright light of the floor to ceiling windows.

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