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“Something has been plaguing you since we left Vaenor. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
I sighed. “You are a better friend than I deserve.”
“You’ve always been the strong and stoic one among us. You are allowed to feel when you need to. That does not make you undeserving of our friendship,” he reassured me.
His messy hair fell into his face, and as he tried to swipe it away I ruffled it again, impeding his vision. He swatted away my hands and we laughed together, ease filling the space between us and releasing any lingering tension.
“So, did you and Liliana fuck last night? Vadim snored loudly enough to cover any sounds you two might have made.”
“We might have kissed a bit,” he grinned, a sheepish expression that told me he was not going to reveal more.
Bringing my thumb and forefinger together, I used my free hand to stick my pointer finger in the middle of the ring, earning another smack from Endre. “One day, but not when Vadim shares a wall with us. You and Izidora were so fucking loud, but she was not the sister of any of our friends.”
I grinned. “I can get him shitfaced so he won’t even know.”
Endre chuckled. “I’ll let you know if I need your assistance.”
“Can’t wait.”
A moment of silence passed between us. “I don’t want to lose anyone else during this war,” Endre whispered, and a pit formed in my stomach at his words. I was so wrapped up in my own shit, I’d forgotten to check in with my sensitive friend. “Liliana makes me so happy, but I feel guilty about feeling happy, you know? Like I don’t deserve it until I’ve mourned them longer. Like if I feel happy, I’ll forget all about them.”
“You deserve to be happy, and they would not want you toforgo happiness simply to remember their lives. You can do both.”
He sighed, the weight of his breath palpable. “You’re right. I don’t know why I didn't say that to myself.”
“Because friends are for grounding one another when one gets lost along the way.” I elbowed him in the ribs, and he shot me a joking glare as I repeated his own words back to him. “I am glad we talked, Endre. Let’s not forget to do that again.”
“Agreed,” he said.
I paused for a moment by the lake, promising Endre I’d return to the suite soon. The sunset over the bright, glassy water was incredible, reflecting the vibrant purples and oranges painting the sky.
“I’m coming, Izidora,” I whispered. “And I have new magic that will help me tear the world apart to get to you.”
***
The king of the Iron Realm stood with his Mage before the circle of his children in the tunnels beneath his citadel. “The time has come for me to name an heir apparent,” he boomed over them. Murmurs drifted through the twelve, before their father silenced them with a harsh look. “You will have to earn the title through a competition among yourselves. The last one standing wins.”
And with his minimal instruction, he spun on his heel and exited through the door to the spiral staircase that led to the main level of the citadel.
Immediately, the field of competitors backed ever so slightly apart, eyeing each other warily. Some of them wondered if the Mage would provide more instruction; others were already plotting the downfall of their siblings. But the only words that left the Mage’s mouth were, “The competition starts now.”
With no warning and no time to prepare, the siblings stood numbly, glancing at each other, waiting for someone else to make the first move. Their father’s favorite yawned as if the whole idea of fighting to the death bored him. “If you need me, I’ll be in my room.”
He turned his back on them all, striding away as if he knew none would try to stab him as he left them. His cockiness angered his siblings, though his nonviolent approach to the competition seemed to ease some of the tension that their father had left in his wake.
The cliques that had already grouped the siblings quickly re-formed in rooms hidden from prying eyes and ears as they made alliances and plans to take out the others. Only the favorite remained alone, ambling through the tunnels without a care in the world. Occasionally, he would stop to listen, using his heightened senses to snoop on the others, not even bothering to hide when he got caught. But it was all intentional, for he began whispering in the ears of those he got alone, poisoning their minds and hearts against one another.
That was the benefit of being a loner, he thought. He cared not who lived and who died, who hated him or who loved him. It was, after all, a fight to the death, and he planned on being the one alive and breathing at the end.
It didn’t take long for his psychological warfare to take hold, and one by one, siblings turned on each other, slaughtering before they themselves could be slaughtered. When the remaining ones realized who had driven their favorites to be murdered, they turned on their father’s favorite child. But they were too late, and he fought them with a deadness in his eyes and an icy cage over his heart.
By the time he landed the killing blow to the last remaining sibling, the favorite was exhausted well beyond the physical realm. As much as he tried to tell himself he did not care, he did. As he lay bruised, bloody, and broken, a lone tear slipped down his cheek, and he found himself profoundly alone.
III
15
“If anything happens to her, I will flay you alive,” I growled at Drazen, the violence in my words by no means an empty threat. My half Dragon cousin snorted and rolled his eyes, accustomed to the vehemence of my words, though he’d seen the consequences of them on more than one occasion.
