I hold my breath for several long beats until a smile spreads across his face.
Loud whoops and cheers sound from the saplings who are saplings no more, their features that of the elven they once were, so many years ago. For many, who never stepped inside Ulysede, this is the first time seeing their comrades’ true faces and an eternity since they’ve felt their own. Their hands fumble over their features. I’m sure I see a few tears streak down cheeks.
Radomir finds my gaze and offers me a deep bow and his sword pressed against his chest.
I dip my head in return.
Zander presses his lips against my forehead and whispers, “You gave them the sun back. That is something to be proud of.”
My chest swells with exhilaration. All around us, elven discover the change, many sliding their tongues over their teeth. A soldier lies on the ground, unconscious, here and there. Did they faint from shock?
Even the mortals are embracing each other because, while nothing changes for them physically, a new freedom has emerged.
Caindra’s second roar cuts off the celebration, followed by a third that sounds different—more menacing. Almost like a warning. There is no time for celebration.
“They’re coming,” I say, drawing on more of my affinities until I can feel them humming at my fingertips.
Moments later, a dark shadow shoots out from the rift, up into the sky. First one, then another, and then a dozen, then more, like a coven of bats, only much larger.
“Wyverns,” Zander declares, and the bonfires around us surge.
So many wyverns.
But Caindra keeps roaring and they keep scattering, disappearing into the distance.
“Where are they going?”
“To become a problem elsewhere, I imagine. She is claiming her territory, and they are listening.” Awe laces Zander’s voice.
Except for one, it seems. A green wyvern swoops down toward the Ybarisan side, likely drawn to the caster affinities. A barrage of fire shoots upward from the ground, and the creature swerves to avoid it, circling wide to come back around and strike again.
But Caindra is faster, leaving her perch to swoop down over it. Her giant maw clamps over the wyvern’s neck, severing it with a single bite. Two limp body parts fall into the rift. With a warning roar to others, she returns to the wall.
“If we didn’t have her, we’d be screwed right now.” There would be wyverns raining down hell on both sides and, despite Radomir’s tips for incapacitating them, there would be a lot of lives lost.
I may be the Queen for All, but if I hadn’t gone to Cirilea that night and sat down across from Bexley, divulged secrets, and offered her trust, would she have so willingly helped us tonight?
I guess I’ll never know. I can ask her, but I won’t get an answer anymore.
A horn blast sounds from one of the watchmen stationed at the wall. Something other than a wyvern must be coming.
My heart pounds in my throat as we watch a creature on four legs with blue-tinged scales and jutting tusks climb over the edge, shaking its body like a wet dog trying to shed water. It tips its head back and sniffs the air.
“It’s a nethertaur!” I don’t mean to sound excited, but I’ve faced one of these things before and I won, when I had no idea how to wield my affinities. “It’s not as scary as a grif.”
Several more climb out. Archers dip their oiled arrows into the flames, readying to fire.
Abarrane gestures with a mocking flourish as the beast closest to us charges, picking up speed. “After you, then, Queen.”
My adrenaline soars as I hurl my affinities at it.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
SOFIE
Malachi held out his hand, beckoning Sofie to him. “It is time.”
Her pulse thrummed in her throat, in her ears, in her every limb as she approached the stone altar, knowing she would hold Elijah in her arms again soon, after centuries of longing.
“I am forever your servant,” she whispered, reaching up to smooth her fingertips over his fearsome face.
“For an eternity.” He gripped her delicate chin, holding it in place long enough to kiss her once before he banished her to the Nulling.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
SOFIE
Dense fog swirls all around me, so thick, it leaves dew on my skin. No matter which way I look, I can’t make out anything. I spin slowly, but nothing changes. No shapes, no forms, no shadows.
I remember this fog, in those moments after I discovered Elijah’s still form on the floor of our bedroom, his soulful brown eyes replaced by a vacant gray haze, when I used my affinities to find him stuck in the Nulling, terrified.