Page 110 of The Crowned Queen

“Haven’t we done this before, Loren?” Jaxon called out. “It didn’t end well for you last time. Move aside and maybe I’ll let you live like my father wanted.”

Loren bared his teeth, hissing as Jaxon jerked the staff down, wrenching the shadows forward a few paces. They howled and writhed, torn between two masters. But Jaxon still wasn’t close enough.

“Your father is dead.”

“He is.” Jaxon’s expression darkened. “And she’ll pay for that. But you won’t be there to see it.” He took another step forward, bringing the staff down in a sharp slash across Loren’s body.

Loren locked his knees, letting the shadows slip through his fingers. They wavered, torn between them both before Jaxon wrenched on them again, driving them against him. Loren sucked in a sharp breath, bracing himself as they battered him from all sides. But even though they hit him again and again, they never pushed him back.

Closer, Loren urged them silently. Bring him closer.

Across their battlefield, Jaxon scowled, whipping the staff up again. The shadows swirled around him in a dark vortex now, straining and bucking at the leash he held. “Finish him off,” he ordered them. “So I can retrieve my wayward bond.”

“She isn’t—” Loren coughed, his eyes burning “—yours.”

“Wrong.” Jaxon took another step, a jerk of the staff sending the shadows arcing up over his head. “I’ve owned her for years. Her magic, her body—everything she is has belonged to me before you ever laid eyes on her. And she’ll belong to me long after I’ve killed you. Just like your shadows and your crown.”

No, the shadows hissed, twisting against Jaxon’s hold. Not his—he will not touch her.

Jaxon was so close now that Loren could see his brown eyes widen, fear flashing across his face. A bead of sweat dripped down his face, both hands clenched white-knuckled around the staff as the power he’d thought he controlled rounded on him. He staggered, fighting to regain his hold on the dangerous power he should never have dared to try and claim. And for a single heartbeat, he wasn’t looking at Loren at all.

Loren lunged, throwing everything he had left behind a single strike. His blade whistled through the air, steel meeting bone with a terrible crash that Loren felt all the way down his arms and into his shoulders. It spilled them both to the ground, stunned.

Loren rolled, scrambling to regain his feet first. He swung his sword with all his strength, aiming to take Shaw’s head from his shoulders before he could raise his staff to defend himself.

But the shadows hit him first.

Loren gasped, white spots bursting across his vision as the dara’el slammed him into the marble with the full, crushing weight of his own power. His hand spasmed, his sword spinning out of reach across the cracked marble. Loren reached for it, desperate—but the shadows pinned him in place.

“Fight him!” Loren gasped.

He holds us. The shadows twisted, striking him again and again. We fight—cannot—we cannot break free⁠—

“I know,” Loren rasped. He closed his eyes, sharp chunks of stone digging into his skin where his face was pressed against the ground. “I know. It’s alright.”

He could just barely see Jaxon from the corner of his eye. The human mage grunted, using the staff to push himself to his feet. Blood dripped from his nose, but his legs were steady. He crossed the space between them, those same, hated footfalls Loren had dreaded in his cell ringing out through the sudden silence, as if everyone—human and fae alike—had held their breath.

Jaxon’s hand fisted in Loren’s hair, yanking his head up. “Call her out.”

Loren laughed, blood bubbling on his lips. “No.”

Shaw’s grip tightened in his hair, setting his scalp on fire. “You’re never going to see her again,” he spat.

Shaw was wrong. He was going to die here, but her face would be the last thing he saw—her hair spread around her on the bed, cheeks flushed and silver eyes glazed with pleasure. Loren exhaled slowly, remembering the sound of her laugh, the breathless cry she’d made as she shattered around him.

Centuries with her wouldn’t have been enough. But in the short time they’d had together, she had chosen him. Loved him. And no one, not even Jaxon Shaw, could take that from him.

The shadows churned around him, their sorrow washing over him like frigid water. But they didn’t—couldn’t—let him go. They couldn’t save him.

Loren closed his eyes, stretching his mind out past the shadows to the power that hovered just out of his reach. The magic his mother had died to unleash wrapped around him, curious but ultimately indifferent to his suffering. The power here had one goal. One mandate it had always sought to fulfill. Drive out the humans.

Loren didn’t know what it had decided about his offer. But whatever happened next, he prayed she ran. That she ran and lived, free of all of this. He didn’t know if she would go back to Eluneth or fight beside their people. He wouldn’t blame her if she fled the New Dominion altogether. Whatever she chose, she deserved a long, happy life. Even if he wasn’t there to see it. He bowed his head, ready to accept the fate that should have found him long ago.

“No!” Araya’s scream rang out through the air. “Jaxon, wait!”

Chapter

Forty-Two