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.”

Marai gulped back tears. “And Nosficio?”

Aresti let out a snort and crossed her arms across her plated chest. “Oh, he’s been hiding out in the glen. He needed to stay away to quell the bloodlust. He also got severe burns from sun exposure, but he’s healing. I’ve been taking care of Queen Nieve in his stead.”

“What does that mean?” Marai sensed it was something she didn’t want to know in full detail.

Aresti grinned devilishly. “She’s needed someone to entertain her while she’s here.”

Marai rolled her eyes; this definitely wasn’t something she wanted to question further.

“Once Rayghast died, the life force he’d sucked from Nevandia returned. The lands are healing, as are the people. They see the change as a sign from Lirr,” Thora said. “I think some of Kadi’s magic still lingers in the ground. You should see the flowers blooming, Marai, so vibrant and beautiful . . .”

Like Kadi.

A tear fell down Thora’s cheek.

Raife wiped it away with a gentle finger. “And Thora’s worked night and day on healing those she can.” Raife gave Thora his sweetest, most loving smile. The open tenderness there filled Marai with gratitude and a deep, forlorn ache. “She’s saved a lot of lives. If there’s anyone the people trust amongst us fae, it’s Thora.”

Dark circles had formed under Thora’s eyes. How had she had the time? As far as Marai was aware, she’d hardly left her side. Each time Marai had awakened, Thora had been there.

“It’s a healer’s duty,” said Thora, blushing again.

“The war may be over, but there are still battles to be won. We’ve taken some Tacornian commanders and soldiers prisoner in our dungeons. They’re being questioned and tried fairly, but many are still at large,” Aresti explained. “Dul Tanen is currently occupied by Grelta to maintain order there, since the loyalists are rather persistent. A curfew is in effect for the whole city. Queen Rhia and the Tacorn privy council were escorted here to Kellesar. A few escaped, but we’ll find them eventually.”

Queen Rhia . . . what would happen to the woman who’d been bartered to an evil king by her own father? She’d protected her younger sister from a similar fate, and most likely suffered tremendous consequences for that betrayal.

“Varana’s also a problem,” said Raife with a sigh. “Ruenen’s still contemplating what to do with them. They’re begging for forgiveness, saying they had no other choice, that Queen Rhia was passing Varana information for weeks. We aren’t sure we can trust them.”

“Your prince already wrote a ballad about the battle,” said Aresti with a rare smile for Marai, “and he sang it on the moor to honor the fallen heroes of Nevandia. He . . . he sang it next to Kadi and Leif’s graves.”

Aresti turned away, shielding her face as she rubbed her wet cheek on her shoulder.

Ruenen. 

Marai could barely contain the overwhelming emotions. “I need to see him.”

Thora frowned. “After his meetings, he’ll come to see you. He’s been busy, but he comes every night.”

Marai flung her legs over the side of the bed. She placed her bare feet on the fur rug and stood for the first time in days. Her whole body shook. The weight on her legs was too much; Marai staggered, and Raife came to her aid.