“If it works.” He grinned, breathing in my hair just as he had done that day back in Allesdale.
“A bonfire after a rainstorm,” I whispered.
“What?”
“That’s what you smell like to me.” I traced one of his dimples and down the curve of his jaw. “I never told you.”
I sighed, taking in the room. Gauzy curtains billowed on the summer’s breeze. Beyond the open windows, the dark lake swirled. The turquoise river that rushed through the city battled with the dark water, creating whorls of blue and black as if the lake itself was fighting off the dark magic in its murky waters. I wondered if, now that the ostekke was dead, the lake would turn clear once more.
“We’re in the castle still,” I murmured, surveying the red velvet curtains and golden chandeliers.
“We’re in your castle,” Grae corrected.
“Briar?” I bolted upright again. “Where is she? Is she okay?”
“Gods, you’re going to be the death of me,” Grae growled, catching me as I leapt to my feet and my legs crumpled under me. “Could you please rest for one day? You just died!”
“But I’m not dead, am I? I need to see her.” I wobbled on shaking feet over to the upholstered chair.
“See who?” Maez asked.
My head whipped to the side to see Briar and Maez entering from the arched anteroom.
I ran to my sister, but she was faster, racing to me and sweeping me up into her arms. She squeezed me so tightly she might’ve cracked a rib, but I didn’t care. She was awake.
“You saved me, Cal,” Briar said. Her voice strained and I realized I was squeezing her just as tightly. I eased my grip on her and she laughed. “Or should I say, Your Majesty?”
“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” I huffed. “Not from you, at least. But I’m glad I won’t be in this alone.”
“We’re not going anywhere.” Briar released me, her eyes dipping to the golden lines snaking above the neckline of my nightdress. “I spotted a nice patch of land just outside the city. Perfect for a farmhouse.”
I laughed, in my mind already imagining the house she’d build—whimsical and colorful, a garden of every hue of the rainbow, just like the cabin we were raised in.
“It’s so good to see you awake,” I whispered, releasing her to rub a lock of her crimson hair between my fingers.
“It’s all she can seem to do now,” Maez said, stepping beside Briar and slinging her arm over her shoulders.
Briar cut Maez a look. “I’ve slept plenty the last few weeks, thank you.”
I could tell this was an ongoing point of contention between them. Shaking her head, Briar smirked and leaned into her mate.
Maez looked at me, her eyes softening. “I’m so sorry about your friend.”
I looked between her and Briar, all at once remembering the battle in the grand hall.
I whirled to Grae, my chest tightening. “Malou?”
He nodded. The sound of her head cracking on stone, the vision of her lifeless body . . . they’d live in me always. The joy of reuniting with Briar instantly turned to sorrow as tears welled in my eyes. She had died helping me.
“The others?”
“They’re okay. Well, all except Mina.”
Tears started falling as I thought of losing not only my friend, but practically feeling her sister’s pain. Grae circled his arm around my waist and pulled me back to sit on the bed beside him. “She’s surrounded by those who love her. She’ll heal.” I looked at him, uncertain. “She will. We all will. When you made your wish, you filled with this bright golden light and then it snapped, shattering out into millions of pieces. Any Rooks left in doubt of your sovereignty laid down their weapons then and there. Your wish proved you were meant to lead Olmdere.”
“I may have been saved in order to rule, but not alone.” I shook my head, looking to Maez and Briar. “No one should have complete power like that. I will not be like Sawyn. I will not be above anyone else.”
“Sa-wyn,” Briar tossed the words in her mind. Recognition dawning on her face.
I huffed. “There’s so much I need to tell you.”
With each step out toward the fjords, my heart sank. I clutched the bouquet of the last summer flowers tighter. Navin sang a deep, slow song as Ora accompanied him, playing Malou’s fiddle. Mina knelt at the edge of the cliff, holding the urn of her twin’s ashes.
We listened to Malou’s song carry out over the misty air as her ashes scattered on the breeze. Her song was lively and mischievous, sharp yet warm, just as she had been. And it felt like the most fitting way to say goodbye to her—listening to her song played on her own instrument, her ashes swirling on the currents as if dancing to the tune.