“Is she alive?” Briony asked, starting forward. Finley put a firm hand on her shoulder and whispered something to her that Isobel couldn’t make out.
Gavin grimaced. “She looks…”
“I’m fine.” Isobel coughed, unsure if that was a lie. She felt cold—very cold.
Alistair’s eyes widened, and he squeezed Isobel tighter. A part of her was comforted by his touch. But another part couldn’t shake the image of Hendry Lowe watching from only paces away, his expression grave.
“Did you cure her?” Briony asked.
Alistair shook his head. “She saved herself.”
Isobel frowned and searched Alistair’s pleading expression. She was reminded of only the day before, when Alistair lay dying on the forest floor and still used his life to save hers. Even though his brother had risen from the dead, what Isobel found hardest to believe was that Alistair had tried to kill her, even if by mistake.
It was her own fault. For almost a year, she’d been so resentful of Briony, of her parents, of the world, that she’d let that bitterness fester. She’d let it chase away any hope she had. She’d let it ruin everything she’d touched. All in the name of survival.
Even if the Roach’s Armor had halted the curse, she had no idea if she’d been cured. Her heartbeat was so weak and slow she could barely feel it. So, clearly, no amount of coldness or cruelty had ever been worth it.
She lifted her hand and ran it down his cheek. “You weren’t ever the monster in this story, Al,” she said softly.
“Then who am I?” he asked.
Not long ago, Alistair had told her that he always had a choice.
Isobel grabbed Alistair’s hand and cast the Divining Kiss. Alistair’s thoughts spilled into her mind. She saw the panic when his curse had struck her. She saw the events of the past several hours, how he’d freed Briony.
And then she saw something much bigger, draped across all his other thoughts like a shroud. His grief. All he’d wanted since the tournament began was his brother back. What he felt for her was a mere candle flame beside that longing, that uncertainty, that hopelessness. It didn’t matter if the tournament was breaking or not, if Isobel loved him or not. No one could take Alistair’s brother from him a second time. He would rather die with Hendry than lose him again.
And Briony wouldn’t back down, not after being proven right.
Those were her options:
A friend who’d betrayed her when she needed her most.
Or the boy she cared about, who hadn’t wanted to be the villain in this story.
Alistair had been right. Isobel always did have a choice, and no matter how heartbreaking, the choice was still clear.
Hendry put a steady hand on his brother’s shoulder—meant to comfort or persuade, Isobel couldn’t tell. But Alistair didn’t let her go. Not yet.
Too much had happened too quickly for Isobel to know if she was truly dying. All she knew was that there was a chance that many of them could survive, a real chance.
And Isobel Macaslan might hate herself for it, but she was a survivor.
“I don’t know,” she whispered to him. “But the story ends here.”
She let out a sob as she grabbed Alistair’s collar in her fist and pulled him toward her. His lips pressed against hers, and she felt him stiffen in surprise. For a moment, they both froze. His breath was hot against her skin, and he tasted of her tears. Then his arm slid tighter around her, pulling her close as though she might be stolen away like so much else in his life. Isobel felt the Divining Kiss’s chalice tip over, and a thousand of her own thoughts from the past two weeks were laid bare to him, all her desires to match his own. As Reid’s curse coursed up her throat from its ring, Alistair was too distracted amid Isobel’s tangled emotions to notice what she had done.
Suddenly, the kiss tasted of decay.
Alistair’s eyes went wide, but before he could react more, he was yanked away from her as the ghostly white of the Reaper’s Embrace seeped across his fingertips. He took shaky breaths as though any one could be his last.
Isobel collided painfully with the ground as Hendry let out a hoarse whisper. “What did you do?”
In this story, the princess slayed the dragon.
“Isobel!” Briony shouted. Suddenly, the other three were at her side, grabbing at her, pulling her away.
The last thing Isobel saw before the Here to There spell sparked was the fury in Alistair’s eyes, and she knew she’d made the right choice. Their story had never been destined for a happy ending.