Page 214 of Wings of Ash & Flame
Time slowed, stretched. A cocoon of shimmering gold lifted her. The hundreds of tiny cuts that had torn her flesh closed. Skin knitted seamlessly. Her battle-torn clothes transformed into a golden gown, gleaming like the first rays of dawn. Her light brown hair glowed, fanning behind her in a halo kissed by flame.
At her brow shimmered a diadem of phoenix feathers, a ruby at its heart—twin to her mother’s ring. Simple. Regal. Eternal.
Alaire Vallorian, Queen of Aurelia, didn’t rise from the ashes. She remembered she had always been the flame.
No longer Queen of Nothing.
Magic flowed through her like a river returning to its course, crackling with controlled fury. Purple fire erupted across her skin, the same shade as Solflara’s plumage.
The hybrids recoiled, snarls twisting into whimpers.
Her gaze dropped to Professor Ross’s body. Her heart ached with loss. She would not waste his sacrifice.
She raised her hand, fingers wreathed in lilac fire. “Now,” she said to their gruesome leader, who’d promised nothing but torment, “who’s begging for death?”
Spikes of violet flame lanced outward, carving light into the endless dark. The bat-spawn shrieked in terror as they realized they weren’t facing prey anymore.
They faced a queen.
Alaire only smiled.
They burned. They broke. They vanished.
Grief would always be part of her, etched into her bones like scars. But she would not be consumed by it. Not anymore. Shewould fight for her future, for Aurelia’s, for Elithian’s—so that every sacrifice would not be in vain.
When the last shadow withered to nothing, her knees quaked. The storm of power ebbed, leaving her forever changed. She collapsed, breath ragged, eyelids drooping.
But for the first time in years, Alaire Vallorian knew exactly who she was.
The phoenix rising.
The last star blazing.
The queen reborn.
And she was fucking magnificent.
Forty-Nine
Ablend of blackberries and dark, floral notes cut through her haze. She tried to turn toward the smell, but her limbs felt heavy.
When Alaire opened her eyes, velvety petals floated in front of her. She blinked—inky hair fell across her vision, not black dahlias. Another blink, and Dawson’s concerned face swam into focus. He sat in a chair at her bedside, one of her hands enclosed in both of his.
The ruby ring still gleamed on her finger.
“You’re awake,” he murmured, voice rough. He didn’t pull away or hide behind the walls she’d grown so accustomed to during the push and pull of their partnership.
Something flickered across his expression—surprise, wonder. His hand rose to cup her jaw.
“I am.” Alaire leaned into the touch. “How long have I been here?”
“Long enough,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into the barest hint of a smile.
She looked around. Once again, she was in the academy’s infirmary—three pillows propping her up, tucked into white linen sheets. A side table stood piled with books and a comb,though it was the vase of black dahlias that caught her eye, petals dewy as if freshly plucked.
Memories slammed into her. Alaire flew upright. “Where’s Solflara? Are Kaia and Caius okay?” Her heart pounded.
A familiar trill answered, warmth blooming in her ribs. She’d been so sure she’d never hear it again. But there, outside the window, amber eyes gleamed bright and steady. Solflara was resplendent, feathers flaring under the sun.
