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“I’m... not too late.” I tried to stand and pitched to the side, my aching head spinning the world upside-down. “Alisdair... I’m coming.”
Flipping over, I screamed.
Riordan draped over the snowbank, blood staining his perch red. Long, vicious gashes raked lengthways on his chest—not the slash of a wolf, but the mangling of a falcon. Riordan tried to protect me from the flying faeriken who knocked me out of the sky. Her, or one of her comrades.
To the end, my friend saved me.
“Oh, Riordan, I’m sorry.” I threw myself on him, my heart cracking in half. “You’re a new husband. You have a baby on the way. Now you’ll never get to see your child’s face, all because of me. Ahhh!” I screamed, frustration strangling me. “Why was I so stupid? Why didn’t I realize how to break the curse sooner!”
“Cal... li...”
I shot up, gaping at his fluttering eyes.
“...help...”
I sprung into action. Ripping the hem of my dress, I bound his chest with the strips, grasped his arm, and heaved him onto my back.
The weight of him bent me in half. Gritting my teeth, I took a step, then another, then another. “It’s... going to be okay. I’ll get you help, my friend.” The gaping hole where the palace doors used to be beckoned me forward. “I promise.”
I stumbled over the threshold and clamped hard on my lip, holding back a cry.
Talulla beheld me with unseeing eyes. My little, quiet taste-tester, who was saved the same night as I when I refused the poisoned meal and decided to eat with the rest of the court. Turned out I only saved her for a few more weeks, only for herto meet her end with a sword driven to her chest—pinning her to the wall.
Tears soaked my face as I forced myself on, refusing to look in the faces of the guards resting still and quiet at my feet. “Healer! Healer Soulstitcher!” I called. “Someone! Anyone, help!”
Creeping around the corner, Riordan and I fell down the stairs together—following the roar and misery of fighting. If the healers were going to be anywhere, it’d be in the middle of the battle.
“You’re not dying today, Riordan!”
He groaned.
“That’s right. Keep talking.” I clung tight to the banister, straining to keep us upright. One slip and we’d tumble to our deaths—for good this time. “Tell me about the baby. Have you thought of names yet?”
“...ric...” he wheezed.
“Gilric? Oh, yes, Gilric. After your father. That’s a great name for a boy.” I injected my dry, raspy voice with all the enthusiasm I could muster. “A strong, warrior’s name. What about for a girl?”
“C-C-C-... Cal...li.”
The corner of my mouth tugged into a trembling smile. “Really?”
He grunted. “Fuck no, keva... it’ll be... Keelin.”
I let out a short, sharp bark of laughter, igniting shaking chuckles in Riordan.
Good. If he’s laughing, he’s alive.
I climbed off the final step. The sound of breaking glass muffled under—
“ARGGHH!”
“Alisdair?” I lurched into the throne room, and there he was.
Aeris, Eadaoin, Bradach, Foalan, and the big, hairy, hulking beast that was the love of my life held a shrinking line against the fray.
My friends were bleeding, sweating, and gasping—all of them fighting to beat back the mob, and destroy the flowers they so eagerly wielded against Alisdair. But some were slipping through.
Alisdair bled from dozens of cuts. He was huge, but not as big as he could be. He was terrifying, but his fangs weren’t as sharp. His claws not as long. He was weakening, and somewhere in the chaos, Meallan was waiting for the right moment to finish him off.
