Crowned (Beholder #4)(57)

I glared at Petra. “Ever since you figured out that I was the child of the gods, the only Necromancer you’ve cared about is yourself. You see me as your way into history. The Divine Petra, Mouthpiece of the Gods, Savior of the World, and whatever other nonsense titles you’ve dreamed up. Don’t pretend this is about anything else but your own ambition. You’re as greedy and selfish as my parents. I’m surprised your skin hasn’t bubbled over like tar as well.”

The Sire’s eyes widened a fraction. It was the smallest movement, but still enough for me to notice. I switched my focus to him. “That’s right. I know all about how you used hybrid magick to create these gateways. But then, you became drunk with power and the hybrid energy turned against you. Now you have to use this comet and your own children to maintain your empire. You disgust me.”

Viktor stepped forward. This was a regular family reunion, if your family were made of corrupted gods and one adopted maternal figure who’d turned homicidal. “My cherished sister, you must listen to our parents. You were mishandled by Tristan and never taught how to properly live as a Necromancer.” He turned to the Sire and Lady. “Kindest parents, you do her no favors by forestalling the inevitable. End this now.”

“You’re quite right, my son.” The Lady waved toward the Caster army. “Bring forth the executioner.”

Amelia stepped out from the line of warriors. She still wore the long bronze robes and grasped the Sword of Theodora in her fists. The hood was now pulled back, though, so I could see her large blue eyes and long red hair. Usually, her tresses were styled in neat ringlets. Now, they fell wildly over her shoulders. More blue light glowed on her skin, just as it did back in the Temple of Theodora. My heart sank. That brightness meant magick. Rowan hadn’t defeated the totem spell on the Sword, only weakened it. I felt no need to kneel anymore, but Amelia was still under a compulsion spell to kill me.

Considering the ugly nature of this particular family reunion, it seemed fitting to add in a best friend who was also my executioner. Amelia marched stiffly across the green, pausing a few feet before me.

The moment didn’t seem real. I was standing on a checkerboard meadow. My best friend wore bronze robes and wielded the Sword of Theodora. My parents and brother all watched on. My mate stood nearby, only he had absolutely no idea who I really was. With all my focus, I tried to picture some way out of this.

There was nothing.

The Sire pointed at me. “Kneel.”

I didn’t have any plan yet, but I knew I wasn’t going to simply bow down to this death. “I refuse.”

“Please kneel down, my daughter,” said the Lady. “Trust us. Believe in our love for you. We wouldn’t do this if there were any other way.”

Her words echoed in my mind.

Trust.

Love.

My gaze locked on Rowan. Here stood my mate. If I believed in nothing else, I had to rely on the bond of love between us.

A plan appeared.

When I next spoke, I switched my focus between my parents. “I will do as you say, but I must die on my own terms. Rowan will wield the Sword.”

“Let us consider this,” said the Lady. My parents and Viktor then stepped aside to whisper quietly amongst themselves. All the while, my pulse beat with such force, I could feel its thud in my throat. The Lady’s words kept ricocheting through my mind.

Love.

Trust.

My blood relations never truly understood these terms, or I wouldn’t be standing here with a death sentence hanging over me. I had to rely on the fact that they couldn’t imagine the true force of a mate bond. They had to agree to make Rowan my executioner.

Finally, the three of them ceased their whispering and returned to their place before the armies. My father was first to speak. “We agree to your terms,” he said solemnly.

And with those five words, I had my first real hope that I might live.

The Lady gestured to Amelia. “Give this Caster mortal your Sword, child of the House of Theodora.”

With wooden movements, Amelia lurched over to Rowan and handed him the Sword. My mate gripped the hilt and turned to face me. If he felt any hesitation to murder me, Rowan didn’t show it in his face.

“Caster mortal,” said the Sire. “Our daughter has requested that you kill her. This is a great honor. Since Elea does this willingly, all you need do is touch the Sword to her skin anywhere. She will pass on peacefully.”

“That’s right.” Raising my bound arms, I turned my palms toward Rowan. This is a motion I’d done many times before as I’d begged Rowan to share hybrid power. “All I need is a touch.”

Rowan stalked closer, lifting the Sword high above his head. I kept my gaze locked with his and my arms outstretched. If my mate was going to kill me, let it be this way.

Rowan paused before me. One emotion after another washed over his face. Rage. Confusion. Love.

Which one would win out?

With a great swoop, Rowan brought the Sword down. I held my breath, my body tensing for the blow. It never came. At the last second, Rowan dropped the Sword and gripped my hands in his. Instantly, I felt his energy and magick pour though our connected palms.

“We are mates,” whispered Rowan. “My heart knew it all along.”

With those words, everything started happening at once. Viktor, Petra, and my parents all called for their armies to attack. I leaned over, desperate to grab the Sword of Theodora, regain my knowledge of how to cast, and restore Rowan’s full memories.