She ignored the gasps and protests, and tapped the paperwork on the desk. “I’ve had the documents drawn up. Allow me to be perfectly clear: I am not abdicating either throne. I am no longer queen, but with this document, no one shall ever wear the crown again. The Fae monarchy is abolished. Forever.”
From the corner of her eye, she could see Hunt grinning broadly. She wished her mom was here, but they’d decided that Ember Quinlan’s presence might cause too much speculation that her human mother had pushed her to do this.
“I am donating all the Autumn King’s residences in this city,” Bryce said, gesturing to the elegant space around them, “to house those displaced by the attack on Asphodel Meadows. This villa in particular will be used to house children orphaned by the massacre.”
One of the Fae nobles choked.
“As for the royal properties elsewhere—in Valbara and on Avallen—they will be sold to anyone who can stomach their tacky-ass decor, and the profits will go toward rebuilding Asphodel Meadows.”
Bryce picked up the golden fountain pen she’d swiped from the Autumn King’s study after chucking all his prisms into the trash. She planned to dismantle the orrery and sell it for scrap metal. She knew enough about how light traveled and formed—how it could break apart and come back together. She never wanted to learn another thing about light again, even her own.
“The Asteri are gone,” Bryce said to the listening world, “and the Fae kingdoms with them. In their place, we will build a government built on equality and fairness. This document grants me the right to represent the Fae in the building of such a government. And nothing more.”
“Traitor,” hissed a Fae noble who Bryce could have sworn had sneered at her once in a restaurant, years ago.
Bryce hummed to herself, flipping the Autumn King’s beloved pen between her fingers. “You guys shouldn’t have granted your royals such absolute power in your quest to keep everyone else down in the dirt.” She leaned over the documents. “Maybe then you could have stopped me from doing this.”
The golden pen touched paper, ink blooming on the parchment.
“But you’re in the mud with the rest of us now,” Bryce said to the Fae as she signed her name. “Better get used to the smell.”
Thus, with the stroke of the Autumn King’s golden pen, the royal bloodlines of the Fae were wiped from existence.
* * *
Ruhn flicked on the lights in the apartment—for however long the place would even have power. “Bryce is going to throw a fit, but I swear it was the only one available furnished on short notice,” he said to Lidia as they stepped inside the home literally a floor below Bryce’s.
Lidia smiled, though, surveying the apartment that was the mirror image of Bryce’s layout save for the furniture. She approached the white, gleaming kitchen. “It’s lovely—really. I’ll get the money wired to your account.”
“Nah,” Ruhn said. “Consider it a thank-you present. For bailing me out of the dungeons.”
Lidia turned from the kitchen, brows high. “I think we’re even by now. After … everything.” After that shit with Pollux, which he knew would haunt his dreams for a long fucking time.
But there would be joy to light the dark memories. When he’d gone with her to return the boys to their parents, Ruhn had been content to watch the happy reunion, especially as Lidia was hugged with equal welcome and love by the boys’ parents. As the boys had, in their own ways, made it clear that Lidia would be welcome in their lives.
Brann, he had no doubt, would be the easier one. But Ace …
Ruhn smiled to himself at the memory of how Ace had looked over at Ruhn before leaving, his dark eyes knowing. Sharp. As if to say, Take care of my mom.
Ruhn had answered into the kid’s mind, She can take care of herself, but I will.
Ace’s eyes had widened in shock, and he’d stumbled a step, but—with an assessing, impressed glance at Ruhn—had continued to the transport pod.
Ruhn and Lidia had spent one night in his shithole house, aching to fuck each other within an inch of their lives but all too conscious of his friends a thin wall away, before he’d called up a realtor and asked about finding an apartment. Immediately. With a few specific requests.
“The bedroom over there’s got two beds in it,” he said, pointing across the great room. “For your boys.”
Her eyes were lined with silver as she faced the guest bedroom.
That had been Ruhn’s main demand to the realtor: find an apartment with a guest room that had two beds. “They can visit whenever they—and you—want.”