She’d then lapse back into an endless sleep.
Ruenen.
The name shot through Marai like a lightning bolt.
She jolted upwards, waking as her body sat upright in bed. She was in her room in the castle at Kellesar. Plush blankets and pillows surrounded her.
Thora, Raife, and Aresti all jumped in alarm at her sudden movement.
“Where’s Ruenen?” Marai asked. His name sent an electric current beneath her skin. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been mortally wounded by Rayghast. It had appeared as if the King of Tacorn would claim victory, as well as Ruenen’s life.
Marai hadn’t heard Ruenen’s voice once during her momentary bouts of consciousness.
“Is he alive? Did he win? What happened? How long was I asleep?” The questions tumbled from her mouth.
For a moment, the others gaped at her. Marai was more alert than they’d expected her to be. In fact, she felt tolerable, other than a general tiredness in her bones, but her mind was wide awake.
Thora chewed on her lower lip. It was cracked and scabbed over, as if she’d been doing that a lot lately. “You’ve been unconscious for ten days.”
So long . . . no wonder Marai’s body felt like she’d been trampled by two dozen horses.
“Prince Ruenen is downstairs in a meeting with Queen Nieve,” Raife said.
Relief eased out of her with a sigh and slump of her shoulders. It was then that Marai noticed the golden armor Raife and Aresti wore. “Why are you wearing that? Are we still at war?”
Strangely, Raife smiled. “The war is over.”
Over. Marai’s breath hitched. And Raife’s smile . . . Ruenen was alive . . . it had to mean . . .
“We won?”
Raife nodded. Marai nearly burst into tears, but she held them back by squeezing her hands into fists within the bedsheets.
“Those Tacornian soldiers are real bastards, though,” said Aresti. “We’ve been constantly engaged in skirmishes with the soldiers we haven’t managed to wrangle yet. They set fire to some cottages outside the city last night, and we barely have the manpower to fight them off. Oh, Raife and I are officially part of the King’s Guard.” Aresti gave Marai a smug grin. That expression normally would have annoyed Marai, but instead, she found herself returning it. “Avilyard, himself, appointed us.”
“And Thora has been promoted to Royal Healer,” Raife said, then planted a kiss on the top of her head. Thora blushed a pretty rose, and took Raife’s hand.
Marai’s eyes and ears couldn’t gobble up the news fast enough. Raife and Arest—King’s Guard, honored positions in the Nevandian army. Thora—Royal Healer, a title reserved for the best.
Nevandia had won, and her people were granted titles of prestige and respect. Faeries who had defied the odds and served Nevandia loyally in battle. Marai’s heart soared. It was more than she could have hoped for.
And Ruenen was alive.
This was the second time Marai had thought she’d lost him, but unlike the first, she hadn’t given up on him. She’d believed in him and the future he wanted to create.
“Not all the commanders and soldiers are happy about it, to be honest,” Raife said, running a hand through his curls. “Just because Avilyard, Holfast, and Prince Ruenen agree, doesn’t mean others do. We’re largely ignored by the rest of the Guard. We have a long way to go before fae are recognized as equals by everyone . . .”
“Keshel’s trying, though,” said Aresti. “He’s been working with Prince Ruenen, Holfast, and Tarik on new laws regarding magical folk. Nieve’s working with him to establish sanctuary in the North for our kind, as well.” Aresti then frowned, exchanging a look with Thora. “We barely see Keshel these days. And he’s been acting strange. When he’s not busy with the Witenagemot, he’s out wandering around somewhere.”
Keshel acting strange? Had something happened to him during the battle?
“I’m surprised Keshel’s still here. I thought he’d be long gone by now,” said Marai.
Aresti, Raife, and Thora’s faces fell. A somberness settled around the room. Marai didn’t like the weightiness.
Thora’s eyes shimmered. “He’s trying to ensure our safety before he goes . . . so we don’t lose anyone else.”
The words slammed into Marai.
She’d forgotten.
She’d forgotten about their deaths.
Kadiatu and Leif.
“I’m sorry,” she said, squeezing her eyes tightly, trying to block out the images of their lifeless bodies on the moor. “I’m so sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Marai,” Raife said softly.
Marai shook her head. “Yes, it was. I brought you all here. Their deaths are my fault.”
“No,” stated Raife with such fortitude that Marai opened her eyes. “Rayghast is to blame for their deaths. Leif and Kadiatu fought to avenge our families and make the world a better place for our people. You didn’t force them to come, Marai. Leif and Kadi made the choice to fight for Nevandia. They came because they believed in a better future.”
“But I could’ve stopped it. If I’d used my magic sooner—”
Raife sent her a stern look. “If you’d used your magic sooner, you still wouldn’t have killed enough soldiers to stop the attack, and we’d have been defeated before Grelta arrived. We’d be burying your body alongside Kadi and Leif. They died honorable deaths, believing in a just cause. That’s a far greater outcome than my brother ever expected for his life.”
“And they will be remembered in history across Astye,” Aresti added. “Leif and Kadi’s names will never be forgotten, especially by the magical folk whose lives they’re changing.”
