“That’s enough, Marai,” someone shouted behind her. Their voice was muffled, as if she were hearing it through thick ice under water.
Someone tugged on her shoulders. She ignored those hands. She ignored the cries in her ears.
“Stop,” they yelled.
“Marai, look,” said another voice.
Her stinging, blurry eyes dared a glance to the right.
There, cresting over a craggy hill—eight hundred mounted riders in gleaming silver armor appeared. At the helm, a figure with billowing bright red hair thrust a sword towards the sky. Horns blared. Cheers resounded across the moor.
Grelta had come.
Black-armored soldiers scattered as Queen Nieve led the grand charge down the hill. Tacorn’s organized ranks dissolved and the battlefield erupted into chaos. Nevandian infantry men gathered up their remaining strength and charged forwards to join the fray again. Nieve and Greltan forces swept the Tacornian reserve infantry back across the road, out of Nevandian territory, then back further, towards far off Dul Tanen.
Tarik and his remaining weres let out a howl of victory as they rushed forward to help the Greltans.
It’s finished.
The last remaining embers of Marai’s magic fizzled and snuffed out. Her body wrung dry, arid as the Badlands, she felt the pressure of hands on her shoulder, trying to guide her.
Her body gave out. She plunged forward, crashing to the ground.
Darkness crept in from the corners of her vision. Numbness spread.
She managed to turn her head, one slight, painful movement to watch Nieve galloping onwards, overtaking Tacornian troops with aid from the remaining mounted Nevandian cavalry and infantry. Nieve was a force to behold. A true queen.
But one shadow stood tall amidst the ash and mist.
One shadow stalked towards its prey.
Opposite this shadow, stood a man in broken gold armor. One single beam of sunlight poked through the clouds. It blessed him, illuminating him in radiance. Lirr, herself, smiling down on him . . .
Ruenen.
He was the ruin of Tacorn, of the Middle Kingdoms as they’d been. Ruenen would bring about meaningful change. Even though he was also Marai’s ruin, she’d happily given it all for him.
She watched as he faced down his enemy, his hunter, his demon, with unfathomable courage.
It would all end now, and there was nothing more Marai could do to help.
Chapter 34
Ruenen
The king was coming, but Ruenen didn’t care. Not when he’d watched the lightning disappear and Marai collapse twice across the nearly vacant field.
She used too much.
Ruenen’s feet ached to rush to her side, but he kept them frozen in place. Marai would never forgive him if he wasted this chance, if he didn’t finish this war now.
Although his heart splintered into frightened fragments, he stared down the King of Tacorn. Behind him, Grelta’s mounted forces corralled Tacornian soldiers into small groups. Many more of Rayghast’s men escaped over the hills. They’d remain a danger if they organized, but that was a fight for another day.
Avilyard and the one hundred Nevandian cavalry rode out to meet Nieve. They’d take Tacornian soldiers as prisoners. That was something Ruenen ordered—not every man need be slaughtered, show mercy whenever possible.
He’d be a better ruler than the twisted king in front of him.
“The boy who would be prince,” said Rayghast. He was merely feet away. Too far to reach by sword, but close enough for his raised voice to be heard, he’d clearly been battered by Kadiatu’s terrestrial assault. Rayghast was covered in scrapes and bruises, dirt and blood, and black stained flesh. He favored one of his legs slightly.
Still, the sight of this imposing figure made Ruenen flinch. The memory of the dungeon, what had almost happened, sent Ruenen’s heart thumping.
“It’s over, Rayghast,” Ruenen said. “You’ve lost.”
The king’s soulless eyes sharpened like daggers. “You think you’ve won?”
“Your army has been routed. Varana has fled. You’ve nothing left. You’re king of nothing.” Ruenen let the words bite and snarl, but they never made an impact against the bare chest of Rayghast.
“You think I cannot rise again?” Rayghast questioned. “You think one lost battle means I still cannot destroy your pitiful country? Your lands, your castle, your people belong to me.”
“My people will no longer cower to your cruelty,” said Ruenen, holding his head high, despite the unnerving manic gleam in the dark pools of Rayghast’s eyes.
“I need no army. I have all the power at my fingertips,” he said, raising his blackened hands. “Your faerie is dead.”
Ruenen’s pulse stuttered. No, she’s not dead. That can’t be true.
“The Butcher was a formidable enemy. She had powerful magic, but all abominations must die eventually.”
Fury flared within Ruenen. “You use dark magic. If anyone is an abomination, it’s you.”
