Reign of the Fallen (Reign of the Fallen #1)(94)

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” I gasp. “No one has to die.”

Hadrien shakes his head, smiling almost sadly as he tightens his grip, crushing my throat. I dig my jagged fingernails into his hand, to no effect. “Only one of us will walk out of this room alive, Sparrow. So think of what’s best for Karthia. Think of what our people need. You, or me.” Gazing calmly into my eyes despite the blood oozing from his shoulder, he adds, “I trust you’ll choose what’s right.”

Finally, I manage to shove the dagger just beneath his ribs despite my lungs screaming for breath. “Fine,” I growl, plunging the blade deep into him before he has time to react. Finishing what I started back on the hillside. “Me.”

My heart thuds in my ears and time seems to slow, Hadrien suspended on the end of my blade. Every monster can be beaten. Of course, he hardly looks monstrous now. He looks like a pale, scared boy who has no idea how many lives he’s ruined.

He collapses at the base of the throne, gasping for breath, trying vainly to stop the life from leaking out of him.

Swallowing hard as I’m reminded of Evander’s final moments, I kneel beside him.

“If you’d been the least bit afraid of me, you might’ve had a chance. You might’ve bothered to fetch your blade before I made it all the way to the throne,” I whisper.

His eyes are glassy as he nods. “You . . . you’re unkillable.” He tries, I think, to smile.

“No. Just lucky.”

He raises a bloodied hand to my face. I bite back my revulsion, allowing the hesitant touch to my cheek. “I wish I were strong like you, Sparrow,” he murmurs. “Like it or not . . . you’re the one who will change things around here. But you’re going to regret this someday, I promise.”

His hand falls from my face. As his body blurs beneath my gaze, I press my fingers to his neck, clumsily feeling for a pulse. His heartbeat slows to nothing.

The reign of Karthia’s mad king has ended after just one day. Yet for some reason, I don’t feel any better.

Evander. Jax. Simeon. Master Cymbre. Master Nicanor. I whisper their names as I stand over Hadrien’s body. He may be gone, but in case his spirit is lingering, I want him to hear everything he took from me.

I want to hate him more than I do. I just don’t have enough anger left.

Lysander’s fishy breath washes over me, and I brush the tears from my face.

“Time to go, is it?” I ask thickly.

The bear growls in answer, his unearthly green eyes flashing.

Rubbing my sore neck, I take a last look at the still-warm husk of the beloved brother I’ve taken from Valoria. The handsome prince who always asked me to dance. The prince who loved his siblings. And who, in some twisted way, loved his people.

I gently close his empty brown eyes, glad I can’t see the future he glimpsed with them. “Goodbye,” I whisper one last time, snatching the crown from his head.

I set it on the seat of the vacant throne, where it can wait for the new queen to claim it. A queen who didn’t choose to murder or scheme to get here.

Lysander whines, pawing the throne. Past him, I notice for the first time a group of dead or unconscious guards scattered around the base of the steps.

His eyes are brown again, not glowing green.

Meredy.

Even if she’s not hurt, even if she merely kept her word and left the grizzly’s mind, I have to find her. Just to be sure. “Come on!” I tell the bear.

I rush out the doors, wincing from the pain in my lower leg where the guard stabbed me, and collide with a finely dressed woman when I round the corner.

Lyda Crowther gasps, swaying from the impact. “How did you—?”

“Lysander!” I shout, hoping the grizzly will still obey me without Meredy’s influence.

I shove Lyda against the wall. She tries to break free from my grip on her arms, kicking and scratching me with her sharp nails, but I manage to twist her arms behind her back as Lysander dashes to my side.

“You take a swing at me again, and the bear will eat you,” I growl, dabbing at one of the deeper scratches on my forearm.

Lysander raises a paw, eliciting a shrill noise from Lyda, but all he does is press her against the wall so I can search for something to bind her hands.

“Too bad I don’t have those shackles you used on me,” I mutter as I tie her wrists together with strips of cloth from my already-ruined tunic. It’ll have to do, at least for the few minutes it takes to reach our destination.

I steer her down the hall by her shoulders, giving Lysander a nod of thanks. His eyes are still brown, and my heart beats faster with the need to get to Meredy.

“Where are you taking me?” Lyda asks quietly.

I don’t answer. She’ll figure it out soon enough on her own, when we descend the dark steps to the dungeon.





XXXI




It’s not hard to find the crowd this time. Judging by the sight and sound of things, one of the Shades has found them before me. A column of smoke rises over the buildings facing the harbor, dark against the pale gray sky, and Lysander and I run through the empty streets toward the beacon of ash.

I search for Meredy each time we pass a body in the road. My stomach sinks further when Lysander stops to sniff the air and whines near the alley where we saw her last.