Page 32 of Blaze

“It’s not Kronos,” he repeats. “He can rot in Avernus for all I care. That’s not what has me worried.”

My gaze sweeps the battlefield warily, trying to see what he’s spied that I missed. There’s nothing but the wounded and the healer’s tents that await them.

“What is it?”

Horatius purses his lips, eyes scanning his father with distaste. “It was too easy. It just... it feels like... maybe... maybe he isn’t really gone.”

I boggle at him. Easy? How in the name of Avernus can he call the battle we endured easy? I feel like one huge, throbbing contusion, battered by a fist the size of a mountain. It had taken every ounce of magic I possessed to construct the net that had finally fouled Kronos’ metaphorical feet, allowing Horatius to anchor him to this singular point in time and keep him there until his essence fades entirely. How can he say this was too easy?

He assesses my expression and lets out a bleak laugh. “You don’t know him the way I do, Belle. He wasn’t operating at his full strength. Yes, part of that could be the surprise of the hellhound ambush. It threw me off too. But I don’t think that’s it. I think...”

He trails off with another troubled frown, examining Kronos as though he could dissect him with his gaze alone. If only it were that easy. I turn his face to mine with a frustrated huff.

“You can’t say something like that and then leave me hanging,” I say, pecking his cheek.

“Right. How rude of me,” he says, tone dryly mocking. His smile returns when I smack his bicep.

“Explain.”

“I think Kronos siphoned part of himself off before the battle, just in case. He can bottle his essence, use it to possess people if he needs to. It’s not something he does lightly, but he’s a coward at heart. He’ll accept defeat, but never oblivion.”

A sluice of cool fear runs down my spine as I consider his words. “So, you’re saying that he could still be out there? That this isn’t fully over?”

“It’s over,” he says with ringing finality. “He’s outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and he doesn’t have anything like the power he once had. Morningstar and the others are dead. It’s over. It’s just a matter of hunting Kronos down and destroying the last slivers of his soul.”

“Before he finds power elsewhere,” I add.

His expression darkens. “Exactly. Before then. But let’s deal with the problems of today. Tomorrow’s ills can wait.”

I slide a hand into his and we amble to where Beacon and Alder wait for us. Horatius is right. There’s trouble enough for today. Bodies to bury, families to console, prisoners to punish. We’ll find Kronos when the work is done.

And then we will destroy him once and for all.

EPILOGUE

If I’m late, the Red Queen’s Assassin will pluck out my whiskers.

It’s a very important date, you know. It isn’t every day the Queen replaces her knave, and we’re all meant to be in attendance. Even the Hatter, who will snooze through the whole thing. Defeating an omnifarious is hard work. A sticky business, and not something I’m keen to shake a tail at. We’re all mad, but none of us are quite so daft as Hattie. Her brand of crazy is almost admirable in its own way.

The bazaar near the Wonderland border is packed with happily milling Fantasians. I haven’t seen so many out and about since the war ended. Wise people hide inside their burrows when monsters come calling, and pick up the pieces after the predator has gone. Or in this case, emerge to scavenge the carcasses like vultures. Morningstar and his generals left hordes of wealth, food, and other goods ripe for the picking, and now the swiftest to pick them up can stash or sell them. A thin woman happily totes away a basket of ripe fruits, children trailing in her wake, while a balding man tests the weight of a cavalry saber in one hand. I duck his practice swing with ease, hopping toward the end of the row.

I’m not here for jewels or weapons. I’m badly in need of a pocket watch. The damned March Hare smashed mine when last we met.

A stooped man with a snaggletooth hovers over a tableful of timepieces. They gleam in the waning light of the sun, highlighting the intricate engravings on some while glinting off the jewel-encrusted surfaces of others. Gaudy things, not suitable for an audience with Her Eminence. Emeralds and rubies are as common as the dirt roads of Fantasia. I might as well place clods of earth in my pocket and call them fashion statements.

Blah.

No, it’s the simple wooden pocket watch that catches my fancy. It’s carved from teak and polished to a shine. Only the sigil of Kronos stands out from the dark wood, painted scarlet, an almost perfect match to Her Eminence’s banners. It hums with enough power to make my whiskers twitch. It may have belonged to the General himself. What a talking point that will be at tonight’s festivities! Enough to gain a nod of approval from her majesty, at least. Of the Generals, she liked him best.

“How much for that one?” I sniff, gesturing at the timepiece with an elegant flick of my paw. The snaggle toothed merchant grins.

“An excellent choice, my fine friend. It’s a bargain. A hundred gold pieces, as long as you keep it safe.”

That shouldn’t be a problem. I plan to keep it far away from Hattie’s destructive crew after the incident last time. This watch will remain in my pocket, polished and well-cared for until it stops ticking or I do. I give the merchant a stiff nod and reach into my waistcoat pocket, drawing out the amount. It really is a bargain for a piece so beautiful.

“There you are, Mr. White Rabbit,” he says, giving me a crooked smile, dropping the pocket watch into my outstretched paw with undisguised glee. Glad to be rid of it, I suppose. Fantasians really don’t have any sense of value.

“That’s Sir Albin Cuniculus to you, sir,” I say, glowering down my nose at him. He doesn’t wince. No respect from Fantasians either.

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