Page 118 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
In that brief flash of grief, I glimpse at the girl I used to know.
“How did it happen?”
“Alaric Rayne is dead. The Seven Crowns sent me to kill the new Storm King in exchange for ending my banishment. I never should have agreed.”
“You’ve done us a favor, then.” She rests a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry this happened to you, my old friend. You, of all people, deserve better than to bury a part of your soul.”
Luther’s expression grows somber, and he offers me a respectful bow. “I’m sorry for your loss. After you’re rested, we’ll hold avalafor the fallen warrior.”
Vala. As in, a wake. My heart hammers.
Willow ushers me forward. “Come on. Let’s clean you up, first.”
She sends the boys away and takes me to her private quarters. Her bedroom is situated in front of the king’s, but it looks like it had been empty before their arrival, so it was probably the late queen’s apartments.
She skips over to the copper tub in the back of the room and twists open the water spout. “I knew the destruction of the Chalice would facilitate your return. Freya is vulnerable now. I’m glad you came to me.” She watches me from the corner of her eyes, the way you would a frightened golden-horned deer during a royal hunt.
I clear my throat, still holding on to Percy. “From what I’ve heard, you tried to kill all the kings and queens of Faerie—and nearly succeeded.”
“A necessary evil.” She slips out of her uniform and changes into a form-fitting tan leotard.
The stiffness in my spine doesn’t relent. “It was a necessary evil to try and kill my brother? And yours?”
“Elio wasn’t my target. I never expected him to die with the others. And Aidan wasn’t supposed to be there.” She clicks her fingers, and a strong fire appears in the hearth.
I look out the small, vertical window.
The fortress defies gravity, its battlements built right at the edge of the continent. At Storm’s End, literally. While Deiltine was mostly hidden inside the cliffs, this place rises in a series of skewed, uneven towers reaching toward the sky—the highest of which we’re occupying. The last glimmers of dawn burn in the east in bright shades of purple, orange, and pink.
I press my lips together. “You still went on with your plan and almost killed them both.”
“I had to. I’d been waiting for a chance to melt that dreaded Chalice for decades.”
“And Damian?”
“I never much cared for that crow, but the target was always the Eternal Chalice. And in that, I succeeded.” Willow pats my arm with one hand and gently tugs on Percy’s shroud with the other. “You should get in the water while it’s warm.”
I don’t want to let him go. But no amount of blood or grime will bring him back, so I tuck him safely on the nearby table and begin to undress. The wound the cupids carved into my back is still oozing, and Willow steps forward.
“Here, let me.”
She heals the fresh gashes, leaving me dressed in nothing but my old scars.
“You’ve become quite the healer since I last saw you,” I remark, grateful for the ease of movement.
“The jewels are limitless. I could teach you how to use them.”
To everyone else, Willow is the big, bad rebel. The new, unlikely leader of a centuries-old cult responsible for countless uprisings. A threat. A symbol of a faction of Fae most royals would rather exterminate.
But to me, she’s just Will.
The girl who had a crush on me for ages before she finally became my friend. The sister I never had. The broken woman I helped to fake her own death, the one I sheltered in my rowan house while she patched herself back together.
There’s been many, many evenings like this, spent between a bottle of wine and a steaming tub. I sink into the warm water, trying to see past my grief and exhaustion—to her heart. The last time I looked, it was a dark and frightening place. Now, it’s hidden beneath a cluster of gems. Emeralds, onyxes, amethysts, rubies, opals, diamonds, and garnets shimmer against her skin, each one drawing power from a different realm, a different school of magic.
I’m vulnerable. And part of me wants nothing more than to let bygones be bygones—to call her a friend again, to cling to the last scraps of familiarity in a world that offers less and less of it. But I can’t forget she set a plan in motion that killed her own mother. She tipped Faerie into chaos.
I have to keep a cool head.
