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318 pages, Kindle Edition
Published February 20, 2024
No one unnecessary, as my uncle had taken to saying. Without them, the palace was empty—a dead, shiny husk making a mockery of something that had once been so vibrantly alive. Every passing day had me feeling hollow, too.
Without conversation, only the tinkling of silverware remained in the dining hall. Eyes flitted around the table as we ate.
“The zirelings are their own kingdom."
"When my life is falling apart, the zirelings are still here, harvesting their flowers and singing their songs. Any problem I have, any mistake I make…it’s nothing to them.
"Every time I see them, it reminds me that everything continues—that I continue."
Even the zirelings felt sorrow. I no longer felt so alone with mine.
The bog did whisper. Just like the rhyme said.
'Wither', whistled the wind as it rustled the trees choked with vines.
'Wither', buzzed the insects floating across the stagnant water and soaring through the humid air.
'Wither', croaked the frogs, their bulging black eyes glistening in the shadows.
“My wings are my connection to Kaltianen, and also a reminder of my responsibility to the Liral Court.
“She has not removed her favour, and so I will respect her intention”
“The Wither is not a choice. I don’t just want my wings to be healed—I need them to be healed”
“When the Sunkiller brought down the sun from the sky, a piece of it crashed into the ground here,”
“The worst fae to ever exist did this?”
A high-pitched, strangled sound left Cohrven’s mouth. “The Sunkiller is my direct ancestor, and the only reason the Liral and Sorcen Courts have survived this long.”
Though the greenery brought life to the sparse stone halls, Osreth’s plants weren’t only for decoration. They were his eyes and ears, and they knew I was sneaking through the hallways, my illusions unable to fool the very nature which worked in conjunction with my magic.
It was always easier to hear without my wings beating right next to my ears.
I had started to create illusions by sneaking up on small rodents in the caves high up in the Skybrush Mountains, where the trees couldn’t see me and report back to Osreth.
If the animals noticed me, I tried harder. If they were oblivious, I did it again and again, until I could have captured every single creature in Sorcen with my bare hands.
When hiding myself became too easy, I began to make them see things
I made sure to get caught visibly sneaking into the room occasionally, to make it look like I was trying to do it magic-less.
They missed us by a wide margin, flying clear through the spot where I had made them all think Cohrven and I had been standing.
My uncle was going to kill me. There was no other explanation
I had to leave.
I would run away to the human territories
“Someone so full of selfloathing that he’s only comfortable believing everyone else hates him too.”
"You chose to help me for the chance to stop your uncle’s war, I don’t doubt that, but you also chose to help me because I would free you. So don’t pretend that you’re so selfless, Kingsdaughter.”
“Healing fatal wounds takes repetition and time. I haven’t had enough of either."
“I do not play games.”
“Then you forfeit. My wings, please.”
“Honor our bargain,” Cohrven demanded. “I know you’re bound to your word"
“I promised that your wings would become as they once were in the morning, Nightheart. I did not say which morning.”
I pulled up just a little too early, enough to make it seem like it was a mistake. Erelie got the timing right and edged me out, flying over the first guard tower moments before I did. “Yes!” She twirled and hovered in front of me, arms thrown up in celebration. “I win!”
The fae of Sorcen would riot if I were executed. I was their Kingsdaughter—the beloved, orphaned princess that had persevered despite the brutal deaths of her parents.
Osreth knew that. He hadn’t promised Ryena that he would kill me, either. He had looked at her like she was a bug he wanted to swat from the air.
“It’s not true.”
we were both victims of my uncle; we were both sentenced to die on a whim of his. In that, we had one thing in common.
I was going to save myself and the tortured prince in my arms. We were both getting out, or neither of us was.
I had to have him.
I would kill to have him.
He had spilled so much blood. His healing couldn’t redeem him. Nothing could.
“You never asked if I killed him,” I said, my eyes meeting the bloody dirt in front of my feet.
“I never doubted you.”
“It was bad.”
“First kills always are.”
Cohrven stabbing his brother would have been just like me stabbing Erelie. I could never have done it. Cohrven, though, had been capable of doing so
I was only trying to survive.
The Nightheart was in front of me now, proving everything I had willingly overlooked. Believing that Cohrven was more than a remorseless monster had been childish. Almost losing myself in him had been absurdity.
I had been so wrong. So horribly wrong. Remembering all of my misguided arrogance, all that I had said, all that I had done in the belief that Cohrven had maliciously murdered his brother made me nauseous.
“You’re dangerous,” she stated. There was no fear in her voice. To her, it was a simple fact. “Like Cohrven.”
I was a powerful enemy, and a strong ally. For my whole life, I had only been what I thought others had wanted me to be
Now....I could finally see who I had the chance to become.
Throughout my journey with Cohrven, I had proved I was enough. I had saved him. I had kept him alive. I had buried my grief and persevered. I was so much more than something for my uncle to discard.