Chapter 48: One More Light - The Shadow of a Vicious King

POV: MAX

Ethan absently strokes Iris’s hair. “Tut-tut,” he chides. “We’ve gone down that road before.”

He pulls a greenish dagger from his sleeve and holds it up to the light. All the Fae around me crouch and hiss, their feet digging into the ground.

“Either you all stand down and leave, or I kill Lori.”

He drags the blade slowly across Iris’s throat, but she doesn’t recoil from it. Instead, she extends her neck toward the flat edge of the weapon with a smirk.

I swallow against the roil in my stomach.

“One more dead queen,” Ethan sighs dramatically. “What a waste. Will that be fifty dead wives now, son? Or fifty-one?”

Goosebumps tighten the skin at the back of my skull, but Willow braces her hands on her hips with a provocative grin.

“That lame threat might have worked on Elio, but I don’t buy it. Without Iris by your side, it’s seven to one. You can’t afford to kill her,” she says.

Ethan’s face darkens to reveal the monster underneath. The hollows in his cheeks deepen, his brow furrows, and the cruel curve of his mouth twists into something ugly and vicious.

“You might be right about that,” he says.

He releases Iris and passes her the end-all blade, then starts down the stairs with one hand trailing along the golden banister. With his other hand, he reaches beneath the collar of his shirt, fumbling with something hidden there.

A smirk tugs at his mouth.

“But as you can imagine, I expected you to come. In fact, I planned on it.” Ethan’s eyes gleam as he stares at Willow, and Willow alone. “You think I haven’t done my homework since we last met, my sweet?”

His smile widens.

“Don’t you notice anything different about your silly little jewels? Let’s see how they behave now, shall we?” he adds.

The beautiful gems adorning her knuckles suddenly begin to pulse with light. The long sleeve of her jacket starts to melt, revealing a hundred more, and she grabs her elbow, crouching forward as though the weight of them is suddenly threatening to tear her arm right out of its socket.

Sweat gathers on her forehead, her limbs shaking, and her lips curled in a rictus of immense pain.

“What did you do?” she seethes, falling to her knees next to the throne.

Then, the jewels fall to the ground, one by one.

Ploc. Ploc. Ploc. Ploc.

The smugness on Ethan’s face boils my blood.

“You’re playing with technology you don’t truly understand, my dear. Or own. You’re no Mist Fae, and Kahlee doesn’t stand for usurpers,” he says.

Damian’s bow sings. Arrows and bolts tear toward the twisted staircase, forcing Ethan to shield himself with an orb of light.

One second, Devi is standing beside Willow.

The next, she’s airborne.

Her black wings carry her straight toward Ethan, light gathering around her fists until they blaze brighter than the sunlight streaming through the skylight. She slams her balled fist into Ethan’s shield, and the orb wavers slightly.

Three more arrows streak through the air in rapid succession, but they ricochet off Ethan’s shield.

Damian and his queen never so much as glance at Iris. Every shot is aimed at the King of Light.

They don’t want to hurt her, I realize.

Ethan’s wings carry him off the staircase and back onto the mezzanine, a second end-all blade tight in his grip.

Elio, still shaking with fatigue, climbs the stairs one step at a time, ice entombing the gilded banister and spreading across the floors. Power crackles in the air, louder than rolling thunder.

Devi lands in front of Ethan, but Iris attacks her from behind, moving so fast I can’t follow, shadows cradling her feral form. My godmother sidesteps the first strike, but Iris’s second hand—the one holding the blue and black blade—manages to skewer her side.

The two women stand at odds for a heartbeat.

Devi’s lips part in shock. “Little Flower?” she breathes.

Unmoved, Iris draws back to deliver the coup de grâce.

“Lori! Fight her, Lori! Please!” the Shadow Queen yells.

Iris freezes for half a second, giving Devi just enough time to react. Her hand snaps up and catches Iris’s wrist, stopping the second blade an inch from her skin.

Devi grunts. She flaps her wings as the dagger lodged in her side breaks apart into dark snowflakes, then presses her weight forward and slams Iris back several feet.

Iris is hurled against the ramp and topples over the railing. She plummets to the marble below, hitting the ground hard mere feet from me.

A loud crack echoes through the throne room, and blood begins to pool behind her head, matting her hair.

“Lori!”

The Shadow Queen abandons her crossbow and falls to her knees next to her friend, reaching for her with both hands and closing her eyes in concentration.

My gaze flicks back to Elio and Ethan facing each other.

Elio grips the hilt of an icy-blue sword, the balls of his feet finding purchase on the floor as he settles into a predatory stance. His father stands tall in the face of the imminent attack, wearing the same detached expression one might reserve for a child waving around a troublesome toy.

Elio snarls and raises his blade toward his father. “This ends now.”

“Who are you kidding, son? If you had enough courage to kill me, you would have done it a long time ago,” Ethan taunts him.

Damian jumps up one story, quick as a cat, but the King of Light blinks out of view, becoming invisible.

Next thing I know, the skylight explodes, broken glass raining down on us.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Willow croaks.

The brown-haired Fae peels herself off the floor, finally gathering enough strength to stand, her injured arm hanging limply at her side. Her wings stretch behind her, and she flies after Ethan.

Ezra follows in a blur of white wings.

Devi is right behind him, the three of them disappearing into the dawn.

Elio grips the banister and peers down, breathless. “Is she alive?”

He asks the question as though the answer will determine whether he keeps living.

Nell bites her bottom lip. “Barely. I need more time.”

Damian squeezes his queen’s shoulder. “Be careful, kitten. You’re not back to full strength yet.”

“Go,” she says, tilting her head to the main entrance. “Help them.”

Damian nods and breaks into a run, and I follow behind him. I feel incredibly useless, but I can’t just wait inside to see who wins.

By the time we burst onto the terrace overlooking the Solar Cliffs, four winged figures clash against the sunrise.

From this distance, they look smaller—two white angels, one black, against the devil. The rising sun favors Ethan, flaring whenever our side is about to land a strike.

Near the cliff’s edge, the hawthorn tree sways violently. Its branches whip and creak as though the spell or enchantment keeping the royal gardens quiet and calm is unraveling.

Damian sprints to the patch of smooth rock beside the waterfall, draws his bow, and releases. The arrow buries itself deep in Ethan’s shoulder.

The King of Light lets out a pained grunt and plunges downward with incredible speed. A burst of light detonates against Damian’s chest, blasting him straight over the edge.

Devi veers off course, her black wings flapping furiously in the wind. Then she folds them and dives toward the misty abyss after the falling king.

Which leaves Ethan facing three opponents.

Willow. Ezra. And me, the Flame of Fate or whatever—who can't do shit.

Willow grips the sword in her good hand. The men are clearly in better shape than she is, yet her rage is mesmerizing.

The air brightens.

Brighter.

Brighter.

Until the entire world becomes light.

I throw my arm over my eyes to not go blind.

The sound of a body hitting the ground hard shudders through me, and a scream rips from Willow’s chest.

“You monster! He’s your son!” she shrieks.

“He’s weak,” Ethan hisses.

I blink through my watery eyes and see Ezra lying on his back a few feet to my right, his chest heaving.

Blood follows.

A lot of blood.

I can’t think.

My hands pat frantically over him in search of a blade. Instead, I find a flaring red bruise across his chest and, just beneath it, a stab wound.

Bile rises to my mouth as I clamp both hands over the gash.

Above us, Willow and Ethan are locked in combat, their swords crossing again and again. But it’s clear Ethan is gaining the advantage. Willow’s injured arm drags her down with every strike, her fury not enough to sustain her forever.

After a few fruitless exchanges, she breaks away and flies higher, putting distance between them.

“You won’t win this time!” she shouts. “You won’t, do you hear me?”

Ethan’s wings flap as he opens his arms to her.

“My sweet Willow. Don’t you remember? Have you learned nothing from your years at my side? I always win. My cock still sings when I think of your tight little ass. You were always so vocal about your dislike of it, too. I would have preferred to take you alive, but your dead body will be a nice consolation prize,” Ethan boasts, his voice brimming with greed.

He makes a beeline for Willow, and panic and adrenaline turn my blood to sludge.

I have no wings.

No bow.

No way to reach them.

Hells, I can’t even keep my eyes open long enough to see where they are or what they’re doing.

I have only fire.

Only me.

I tear my gaze away from the fight, and it lands on the hawthorn. The ancient tree stands alone beside the cliff, its branches dancing wildly in the wind.

The Sun Court’s sacred tree.

The root of Ethan’s power.

I look down at my bloodstained hands, applying pressure to Ezra’s wounds, and he tilts my chin up to meet my gaze.

“Do it. Burn it,” he croaks. “I’ll be fine.”

Without giving myself enough time to doubt, I run toward the hawthorn and reach the trunk in three strides, then press my palm against the bark.

Everything stops.

The wind.

The battle.

The world.

Fire engulfs wood.

But it’s not like burning Riley did.

No, Riley went quickly, whereas this tree is a pillar of Faerie. Water rises from that geyser inside the mountain, fighting back, protecting it.

Overheated sap pulses beneath the bark.

It boils. Splits the wood.

Ethan’s eyes meet mine through the steam created by my pyre, and for the first time all morning, he looks surprised. Then he lets out an ear-splitting roar.

Death races toward me in the form of Ethan Lightbringer. His wings are impossibly large, his lethal blade thrust forward, and I know I won’t have enough time to burn him, too. If I let go of the hawthorn now, it will only give him more power.

I have to see this through.

Ethan dives, poised to strike.

Then something materializes between us, an invisible form slowly coming into focus.

Ezra.

His hand closes around his father's wrist, and the blade veers away from me. Bone snaps.

Then Ezra drives the end-all blade upward, deep into his father’s heart, impaling the king on his own weapon. A wince and a groan tear out of Ezra’s mouth, his arms straining from the effort as he brings his second hand around the hilt and drives the blade deeper.

Ethan’s eyes widen. “Son—” Blood dribbles from the King of Light’s chin, and he smirks. “Well done. You’re a winner, at last.”

Ezra’s jaw ticks. “To the seven hells with you,” he mumbles.

Ethan falls to his knees, and Willow whispers something in his ear before slicing his head clean off with her sword.

Her injured arm is coated in blood and melted metal, one of her wings stained red and missing a chunk of feathers. Sweat glistens on her forehead, and her good arm trembles around the pommel of her sword as she struggles to keep herself upright.

Devi lands back upon the terrace with Damian in tow, one hand pressed to her bleeding side. The Shadow King barely spares the scene a glance before sprinting back into the castle.

Ezra is on all fours, panting in front of his father’s dead body, his hand still locked around the hilt of the end-all blade. Then he wrenches it free, and the weapon slips from his trembling fingers, hitting the stone next to Ethan with a loud clank.

That’s it.

It’s over.

I rush to Ezra’s side.

“Are you alright? Let me see.”

He promptly falls on his ass. “Hey, little fox. I’m okay.”

“You’ve been stabbed.”

“Don’t fret. I’ve known worse. He didn’t use his end-all blade.” He grins through the pain. “Not on his precious heir.”

“You—you cocky bastard.” I shove at his shoulder, only to grab hold of him instead, burying my face against his chest as relief crashes into me all at once, turning the panic and adrenaline that carried me through the fight into a hot, heavy sob.

He wraps his arms around me and holds me close, one hand stroking my hair while his heartbeat thumps steadily beneath my ear.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

Next to us, the hawthorn remains blackened and smoking, its leaves shriveled by my fire.

“Is it dead?” Willow asks, staring at the tree.

She moves to touch the trunk, and a brilliant light suddenly envelops both Willow and Ezra, bright enough to make me squint and burn my retinas all over again. As I blink away the afterimage, a halo rests atop her auburn hair.

The Crown of Light.

It remains there for only a few seconds before vanishing, but a ripple of magic cracks several darkened branches, and Ezra’s new burst of power thrums through my veins.

Ezra smiles up at his wife, looking more relieved than disappointed. “I’m glad it’s you. You know I never truly wanted it.”

Willow’s expression softens, and she pats his shoulder. “It’s ours to share now.”

“What happened here?” Devi asks, staring up at the burnt tree.

Ezra brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. “Max happened. She saved us.”

Devi stares at me, her gaze bordering on awe, and heat creeps into my cheeks.

“I had to do something. You guys weren’t winning this fight anytime soon,” I blurt out.

Ezra chuckles softly and pulls me closer before pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “So humble.”

Devi crouches beside her father's body and reaches around his neck. “Ethan used this to destroy the jewels, I think.”

She holds up the moonstone pendant she found.

“What is it?” Ezra asks.

Devi turns it over in her hand. “No idea.”

Elio and Lori stagger out of the castle, and I can't tell who's supporting whom. Lori is curled against Elio’s side, one arm hooked around his waist, but his arm is locked around her shoulders just as tightly, holding her upright. He put on some clothes in the interlude, dressed in one of those white cotton servant uniforms.

As if on cue, a blue light rises from Ethan's headless corpse.

Willow's fingers tighten around the hilt of her sword, then recognition dawns, and her shoulders relax as everyone falls silent.

Elio releases Lori to kneel beside Ethan’s body, and the light drifts toward him as though it recognizes its master.

Frost ripples across his skin the moment his fingers close around the soul. Ice races up his arm in delicate patterns, and the blue light flickers once before disappearing into his palm.

The dark circles under Elio's eyes vanish, color returning to his face. His shoulders straighten, and he looks whole again. Healthy.

Beside him, Lori crumples, her knees hitting the marble before the rest of her follows.

Elio's voice breaks. "Lori?"

He catches her before she can strike the ground and gathers her into his lap. "Lori!”

No response.

Panic flashes across his face.

"Little spider." His hand shakes as he brushes a dark strand of hair away from her cheek. "Little spider, can you hear me?"

For a terrible second, I think she's gone.

Then her lashes flutter.

"Elio?" she croaks.

His eyelids squeeze shut, and he presses his forehead to hers. "I'm here," he whispers.

“Step aside, Elio,” Willow says. “I think Iris is trying to kill Lori from the inside. There’s no time to dawdle. We have to take her out now.”

Ezra’s warmth leaves my side as both brothers stagger to their feet.

“Let me,” he says. “I’m the only one who should live with Iris’s death on his conscience.”

Elio catches his brother by the shoulder. “Can you do it? Truly? Can you free Lori from the dark soul?”

“I can.”

Ezra kneels in front of Lori, a pure white light blossoming in his palm. “I’m sorry, Iris. For everything,” he says in atonement, then he presses his hand over her heart.

Lori’s body arches violently, and her fingers clamp around Ezra’s wrist.

Her gray eyes flash open.

For one terrible second, relief floods Elio’s face.

Then Lori’s other hand snaps up from behind her back. A green-tinted blade flashes in the sunlight as Lori—or rather Iris—drives it deep into Ezra’s side.

My mouth opens on a horrified shriek. “No!”

The others move at once, but it’s too late.

Ezra jerks his hand away from her, and something comes with it.

A black, writhing shape hangs suspended in his grip, no bigger than an eel, its body made of smoke. It thrashes violently, twisting around itself as though trying to escape Ezra and burrow back into Lori.

The air vibrates with a foul hiss as cracks spread through the dark worm, then it flakes apart into black ash and drifting wisps, dissolving into nothingness.

Lori slumps against the ground, her body going limp, like someone flipped a switch.

I rush to Ezra.

The green-tinted blade buried in his stomach freezes my blood.

Before I know it, my hands are digging it out of his stomach, and a frosty, desperate chill raises every hair on my body.

But Ezra smiles.

“Don’t cry, little fox. Maybe...maybe it’s better this way,” he says, his voice strained and labored and not at all like him.

“No. It’s not. It’s not. What are you saying? No.” I look desperately around at the gathered Fae. “Heal him. Please.”

No one moves.

Willow's face crumples. “We can’t. No one can.”

Ezra cups my cheek, and the world narrows until all I can see are his eyes. “Remember,” he whispers. “I choose you, Max. Every time.”

A ragged wheeze escapes his lungs, and his hollow gaze slips past me.

His pupils dilate.

The hand on my cheek goes slack.

No.

No, no, no.

No.

A shimmering blue light rises from his body, edging toward me, his blood sinking inside my palm. The cold aura of death beckons.

“No!” I crawl backwards several feet, away from him, away from Ezra’s soul.

“Who are you? Why does his soul respond to you?” Elio asks in a throaty, desperate drawl.

“Stop it, please,” I cry out.

My heart is broken. My spirit is in tatters. I don’t want to consume his soul like I unwittingly did with the others. I won’t.

Elio steps between Ezra’s soul and me. The ice of the reaper king tempers the flames slithering over my skin, and the sudden shift spooks the blue light, causing it to pause.

“I’m so sorry, brother. Truly.” He moves to catch the soul, but the light shoots down through a water hole carved in the stone and vanishes.

Elio frowns. “What the⁠—”

“Where did he go?” Lori asks, climbing unsteadily to her feet, echoing the howl in my own heart.

I wish I could burn her for what she did. Whoever it was.

Elio’s lips press together, his eyes shining with tears. “I don’t know.”