The Dire King (Jackaby #4)(78)

“No. Wait.” I turned at the sound of another voice. Alina was hunched over in the corner. She stood. “This should never have happened. I was wrong. I was stupid. This war was never the answer—but a wall is not the answer, either. We don’t need battles or barriers; we need bridges. My brother was right. We do not need hate; we need hope. We need to leave it open.”

“We need nothing of the sort,” said Jackaby.

“We need to learn how to coexist,” Alina insisted. “The Dire King did not invent hate and fear; he only used them. They were here all along. The wall just preserved them. Isolation preserved them. You think he’s going to be the last to cut through that barrier? It will happen again. We need—”

“I do believe you’ve lost the right to tell us what we need,” Jackaby said.

“No,” I said. “No, she’s right. And she has earned the right.” I picked up the crown from beside me. “It was Alina who stopped Arawn. The king is dead.” I reached the crown across toward Alina. “Long live the queen.”

Alina stared at the crown. She didn’t take it.

“Not me,” she said. “I’m not a leader like Charlie.”

“That’s the first thing you’ve said I fully agree with,” Jackaby replied. I raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed. “Miss Rook may have a point,” he went on. “The Seelie and Unseelie alike have lost their king. There will be a void in Arawn’s absence. That can get very messy if it goes too long without anyone presenting a legitimate claim.”

Alina still looked hesitant. She took the crown tentatively, staring at it in her hands. “Things will not be as they once were,” she said.

“Maybe they’re not supposed to be,” Jackaby said heavily. “There are times from which history does not bounce back. This feels like an end, but maybe also a beginning.”

“If there are to be bridges, there will need to be guardians, as well. Sentinels to safeguard the peace,” I said. “Someone with one foot in the world of magic, and one in the world of men. Keeper of the Veil is quite a role for someone looking for her purpose in life.”

Alina looked from the crown to me. “I can’t. I don’t deserve it.”

“Of course you don’t,” I said. I took a deep breath. “That’s not how responsibility works. It is a gift and a burden in one. You don’t deserve it, but I think you’ll rise to it. Charlie would have thought so, too.”

“If you’re looking for a contractor to fix up this old castle,” added Jackaby, “I know a few people who are very good with creative use of space. Might be nice to have a place to call home again.”

“Suverana of the Om Caini. Keeper of the Veil.” Alina seemed to be trying out the idea. She lifted the crown to her head. “You’re sure?” she said.

“Never.” Jackaby gave her a weak smile. “Good luck, your majesty.”

Alina sent the surviving warriors away. There would be no reparations. There would be no prisoners nor punishments. They all obliged.

I don’t know what I expected, exactly. No one questioned her right to rule. They did not put up a fight. The Unseelie were more than eager to scatter into the forests and back to their homes. Those who cared to tend to their fallen kinfolk were free to carry them away. The goblins tended to their dead, as well as anyone else’s leftover dead, especially ones with expensive-looking weapons or full pockets.

Bit by bit the battleground cleared. Charlie’s body remained. We had brought him down to ground level, to be among the ranks of loyal police officers who had gone down with him. I found Alina standing over him.

“The city will honor him,” I told her. “This time, the people will know. Marlowe will see to it. I will see to it.” My throat was dry.

“He never cared about being honored,” said Alina.

“I suppose not. But New Fiddleham was his city—and he was their peacekeeper. I think they should know.” I stared at Charlie’s body. His expression was sad. It didn’t feel real. “Will you come to the funeral?”

“We have our own rituals,” she said.

“Abigail.” Jenny’s soft voice was behind me. “Are you ready?”

“Wait,” said Alina. “Before you go.” She held out a hand and I reached for it. She pressed something into my palm. “This was our mother’s,” she said. “Kazimir wanted you to have it. He wanted—” She broke off.

I took the ring. Its aura shone in my hand, and the glow was full of Charlie. He had held this ring, fidgeted with it, kept it close to his heart. My chest ached.

“You were already family in Kazimir’s eyes,” she said. “I have been so blind. I don’t expect you to fully trust me, but know that you are kin to the Om Caini now. If you ever have need of our help, you need only call on us.”

I nodded. “Thank you,” I said. “For what it’s worth—I think he would be very proud of you.”

“He always was.” She sniffed. “For once in my life, I think it is time I begin giving him a reason to be.”

The trip back to Augur Lane was quiet. I don’t remember getting into the carriage, or who was driving it. I remember Jackaby watching me with pursed lips and saying nothing for several long minutes. I was glad he said nothing. I did not want to talk. I did not want to be comforted. The war was done, and now I wanted to mourn.