Page 24 of Blaze

“A sacrifice,” I say. “Part of my life to keep his evil from spreading, even in death. If I’d just let him perish, something evil would have covered my ancestral home. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“What do you mean, part of your life?” Quinn asks, eyes narrowing suspiciously. His brogue thickens as he speaks. It always does when he’s upset.

“My immortality,” I say.

“What have you done?” Peter asks.

I smile at him. “I’m going to live a human lifetime. This,” I gesture toward the ground. “Is essentially what I would have turned into if I’d died. I still have some of my power. Enough to pass on to my children and their children’s children, but the possibility of forever is gone.” I take a big breath because this next part—well, it was a decision I made that’s going to affect both of them. All of the Lost Boys. But there was no way around it. “Your forever is gone too. I threw it into the bargain when I defeated him—but only because... I had to.” I breathe in deeply. “I hope you understand.”

“Of course,” Quinn says.

“What does that mean?” Peter asks.

I swallow hard. “It’s means you’re going to age now. We all will. It means the curse is gone. Your half, at least. I couldn’t reach Hook from this far away.”

“Tink...” Quinn says warningly. I press a finger to his lips.

“If I’m going to be a Seelie Queen, I have to act like it. I won’t taint the land and my own magic by resorting to Morningstar’s tricks. I killed him with kindness, with peace, with joy. That’s what I want to be seeded on this ground. And since you’re my consorts, I’m sorry but... you’re going to have to live with it.”

Peter’s arms wrap around me. He’s a warm, welcome weight against my back, almost fever hot after fighting with hellfire this entire time. He kisses the hollow beneath my ear before pulling the lobe with his teeth, making me shiver. That’s Peter. Even in the midst of splendor and carnage, he’s focused on a goal. After a moment, Quinn takes my hand and brings it to his mouth, brushing his lips gently over my knuckles. It’s a brief contact but it still makes me want to blush.

“The curse is broken,” Peter says with a smile. “And we have each other. For the rest of our lives.”

“Our human lives,” Quinn says with a hopeful smile. “Thanks to you.”

“Old age, the next great adventure,” Peter crows. “I can’t wait.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

RANSOM

Death is many things, but one word no one expects to apply to her isopulent.

But that’s exactly what her fortress is. Excess and greed. Perhaps that’s fitting, for someone who takes all things and all people in the end.

Lady Death doesn’t see us inside personally. Her hollow-eyed attendants meet us outside the portcullis of the towering crystalline fortress. They’re little better than corpses, parchment-like skin stretched over brittle bones. One good kick would do them in. I’m confident even the weakest of hellhounds could crumble them into ash without much effort. They gesture wordlessly for us to give up our weapons. Blaze and Carmine aren’t carrying any, nor are any of my fellows. The five of usareweapons. Who needs daggers when you can poison or immolate your opponent? It’s Draven who has to surrender his advantages, piling a truly astonishing amount of weaponry at the front gate before he’s allowed to pass. I’m sure he’s managed to hold onto something in the voluminous folds of his coat, but whatever that thing is, it will be small, nothing as frightening as the death-dealing instruments he’s laid down.

It seems like a silly precaution, really. She’s death personified. It’s in hername,for the goddess’ sake. Death is capricious, too, I suppose. The crystalline walls of the castle reflect light in dazzling rainbows, made of almost the same material as the bridge that led us here. If I peer too closely at it, I can see figures darting through, specters of her many victims trapped in the walls. Some pound the glass as if begging to be set free, while others hide behind lush tapestries and portraits. The more avaricious cluster around marble statues, goblets full of jewels, and stacks of currency from every conceivable world. The pelts of animals I have no name for line the floors at regular intervals.

Axion passes it all by. His gaze is distant, weary, and solemn. He stands straighter now than I’ve ever seen him stand, some weight falling from his shoulders now that he’s done what he set out to do. His burden is gone, his mission complete. He can rest easy knowing we’re going to free our people, even if his resting place isn’t where he envisioned it would be.

I adjust Blaze’s weight in my arms so I can reach for the golden handle of my quarters. The attendants have shown us to our chambers so we can freshen up before dinner. I’m famished after so long on the hunt. Axion’s room is across from mine, but he barely pays any mind to the fact. His mind is elsewhere. Though all I want to do is duck into the room and curl around Blaze’s body, I pause, giving my king an appraising look.

“Do you want company?” I ask.

Axion’s gaze comes into focus. He stares at me for a second, as though I’ve appeared out of nowhere. Then my words seem to penetrate through the thick cloud of his thoughts. Chagrin flashes across his face and he shakes his head.

“No, I’d rather be alone.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods. “Besides, I’ve done nothing to earn your company or your pity, Ransom. I’m beginning to see it was a mistake to send you to her. It was a nasty trick and I should have found another way to get what I needed to. I know what it cost you. For that, I apologize.”

The words aren’t enough, but they are sincere. I nod, unwilling to metaphorically kick my king when he’s in this frame of mind. I twist the knob of the door before my tongue can get the better of me and duck inside. The interior is more grand than the hall, filled with poofs, pillows, couches, and plush rugs. It set Blaze down on the surface of the bed, only after pushing a few of the unnecessary pillows to the floor. She sinks onto the downy coverlet with a soft sigh, her lips parting invitingly. The insides of her eyelids are the same shade of gold as her freckles. I want to kiss them but am afraid of waking her. She’s been tossing and turning in her sleep, dreaming vividly. Occasionally she’ll speak but none of the rambling makes any sense.

I stretch out beside her on the bed, watching her sleep. It’s fascinating to watch her and she looks younger when she’s like this. Less bitter. War will do that to a person, twist their insides until they’re almost unrecognizable as the person they started as. I know it’s happened to me. I used to be a good man who laughed often and loved freely. Lycaon has taken that from me. Strangely, I feel more like myself when I’m near Blaze—almost as if we are similar, that we can understand one another’s pain.

I don’t know how long I lay there, staring at her. It can’t be more than an hour. The attendants haven’t come to fetch us for supper, so it’s probably even less than that. Time ceases to have much meaning when she’s nearby. Her gaze is soft and unfocused when her eyes flutter open. It’s almost painful to watch her come back to reality, to watch those eyes harden into something wary as she takes in her surroundings. They aren’t hostile when they land on me, which is promising.

---