Chapter
Forty-Three
he echo of Remis’s voice still hung in the air when the first volley of bolts came hurtling toward me.T I fought against my instinct to run and held my ground.
The attack vaporized in a flash of light as it crashed against my shield. He was strong—a lot stronger than I remembered from our encounter in Paradise Row. I hadn’t felt a thing when his magic had struck me then, but now, the force of its impact sent me staggering back a step.
A cheer rose from the crowd as they came to the same realization I did: this would be no quick one-shot duel. This was a true war for survival.
Rhon launched another series of dark arrows and began to advance. I tried to meet him step for step, but the pounding of his magic against my shield had me feeling like I was wading through mud.
“You can’t shield forever,” he taunted. “You’ll run dry soon enough.”
“Got a lot of problems with women going dry when you’re around, Rhon?” I shot back.
The crowd roared with laughter. Rhon’s eyes flared in rage.
He shoved out a palm and a swarm of spikes the size of my head raced toward me. I dug my heels into the ground in anticipation of the impact. At the last second, they split into three smaller groups and diverted around me.
I gasped and extended my shield into a dome just in time to keep my back from being turned into a pincushion. The jolt threw me off balance, sending me flying face-first into the sand.
The crowd erupted with more laughter. Rhon threw his hands up and spun around with a gloating smile, encouraging them to cheer him on, and they happily complied.
I was stunned—and more than a little relieved—at how my shield had responded with near-instinctual speed. Encouraged, I held out my hand and tried to conjure a magic-made blade.
My heart sank when nothing happened. My godhood was clearly paying attention, and at least somewhat invested in keeping me alive, but it still refused to fight.
My eyes scanned the arena floor. I had to get out of the open. Though I had a deeper well of power than Rhon, shielding took far more magic than attacking, and I wasn’t ready to gamble on which of us would run out first.
I took advantage of his crowing to pull myself to my feet and dart for the nearest obstacle, a giant boulder nearly as tall as I was. I crouched behind it and peered around the side.
Rhon turned and stilled, realizing I’d disappeared. I felt a thrill of satisfaction as his smug smile dropped away and his shield closed fully around him.
“It seems our new Queen is afraid,” he shouted, and the audience shouted their agreement.
I rolled my eyes and fought the urge to remind him they already thought me a coward for choosing to fight him instead of a more worthy opponent. My focus locked on some small rocks mixed into the sand, and I hurriedly collected a handful.
He turned my direction, and I lunged back to the boulder and out of his line of sight. I held my breath and listened for any sign of him, adrenaline burning like liquid fire in my veins.
His taunts continued, but instead of growing louder, his voice fell softer and more muffled. I took a risk and leaned out— just as expected, he had his back to me as he searched around other obstacles.
I reared my arm back and launched one of the pebbles at the back of his neck. Though I fell back into hiding before I could see it land, I knew I’d hit my mark when a cloud of black barbs scattered across the arena to my left.
The move had won me a crucial observation. The rock had gone through his shield, proving he was only warding against magic-based attacks. A smart choice for someone trying to ration their magic—but an easy opening for an opponent like me.
Rhon’s angry growl moved to my left, so I threw another pebble to a wooden crate on my right. Seconds later, sand and splinters exploded into the air with another round of spikes. I hurled my last rock to the far wall of the arena, and he once again unloaded a barrage of magic in the direction of the noise.
Rhon let out a low chuckle. “Trying to run my magic down? It won’t work. I can keep going all night.”
“That’s not what I heard from your lovers,” I called out.
Laughter rippled through the audience. I used the noise to camouflage my footsteps as I darted from my hiding place to a nearby pile of sandbags and flattened my body against the ground.
Rhon shouted angrily at the crowd’s amusement. Good—good. My plan was working.
An emotional fighter is a sloppy fighter, my father whispered in my ear. Let him focus on seeing you beg at his feet rather than die at his hand.
I grinned at my success, badly wishing I could see the royal box and look into Teller’s eyes. This had always been his favorite strategy when we sparred. I was faster and stronger, but he was smarter. He knew how to use my own temper as a weapon against me, skillfully pushing my buttons until I was blinded by rage.
I channeled my clever little brother as I peeked over the heap of burlap sacks. Rhon wandered a few feet away, hands extended and poised to attack.
He walked toward an overturned cart, putting his back to me. I slowly crawled out from behind my log and crept behind him on silent feet.
A hushed gasp sounded from the spectators. Rhon paused, then chuckled as he mistook it for a clue that he had found my hiding place.
“If you want that Crown, you’re going to have to fight me eventually,” he taunted.
I stopped behind him, then unfolded my palm and held it to my lips.
“I already have the Crown.”
Rhon whipped to face me, and with one strong puff of air, I sent a cloud of the sand I’d been hiding flying into his bulging eyes.
He screamed and doubled over, clutching at his face. “You’ll pay for that! I’ll make you suffer before I let you die.”
Somewhere, my father nodded and smiled.
I froze as Rhon’s shield flickered, then vanished around him. He was too distracted with the painful grit of sand under his eyelids to keep it intact.
This was it. He was completely vulnerable—I could kill him now, walk away with my throne, and live to fight another day.
The audience was riotous, screaming for me to finish him, despite having egged him on to do the same to me mere moments ago.
I looked over at Luther and saw the hope in his eyes. He pointed at Rhon and mouthed, “Now! Do it now!”
The thunder of my pulse in my ears drowned out the crowd as I thrust my hands out toward Rhon.
And still, nothing happened.
“Come on,” I whispered, shaking my hands as if the magic might come tumbling out. “Do something.”
Rhon cracked an eye open and saw me towering above him. He launched into me before I could run, tackling me to the ground. I rolled with his momentum and managed to pin him beneath me, but when shadows began to leak from his palms, I let him go and scrambled backward.
Panic took form like a weight in my chest. All the tricks and strategy in the world wouldn’t win this fight if I couldn’t summon an attack to kill him.
I threw my shield up and took off sprinting. Tiny explosions of sand burst into the air at my feet. I ducked behind barrier after barrier, but Rhon’s onslaught never relented. One at a time, each of them shattered into pieces.
I dove behind a pile of thick branches, knowing it would only win me a few seconds’ reprieve.
Answer me, I begged the voice. I need you.
No answer came.
A pool of hazy shadows crept beneath the logs and launched them into the air, leaving me fully exposed with no other barricade nearby. I darted to one side, then another, penned in by dark tendrils that whipped around me until I was completely surrounded.
Rhon’s thin lips twisted into a sinister grin. The fog of his magic coated my shield and beat against it with a horde of swinging fists. Though my barrier held strong, I felt every punch pummeling me deeper into the ground.
I was trapped. If I didn’t move, my only hope was that he would run out his magic before I did—and I would pay with my life if I was wrong.
His dark magic grew so thick that it blotted out the sky around me, and soon I was in a dome of pitch black. I sank to my knees, my mind racing for a solution.
I reached inside myself and fumbled for some scrap of power that would answer my call. I could feel it waiting, listening, watching, like it had still not yet seen enough to warrant its presence.
Every other time I had been in true distress, it had come to me like a guardian angel—or perhaps a vengeful demon.
It had risen, on its own, to call me to the fight, demanding that I surrender myself to its power. And now, here I was, ready to wave a white flag and give myself over to it completely—but this time, it would not come.
“You’re supposed to protect me,” I hissed. “Why won’t you answer me?”
The shadows dissipated from the top of my shield until I was once more visible to the crowd, though still ensnared within a
ring of inky, walloping fists.
Rhon watched me with narrowed eyes and a creased brow. “Why aren’t you attacking?”
He strode toward me, his head angling to the side as he tried to work me out. With a swipe of his hand, his magic disappeared, and even his own shield vanished to nothing.
He spread his arms wide to expose his chest. “Go ahead. I’ll give you one free shot.”
I stood slowly and curled my hands into fists to hide their trembling, pleading for the voice to respond. It swirled inside me in a glittering vortex of light and dark, the pressure of it building until my chest felt ready to explode with a need for release.
But still, it would not act.
“You can’t, can you?” Rhon laughed incredulously. “The rumors are true—you can’t use your magic.”
The noise from the spectators grew from a hum to a roar as word began to spread.
“A Queen who cannot even use her magic.” He walked in a wide circle, yelling the phrase again and again to the crowd.
Their gossip turned to jeers, then boos, a deafening rumble of rejection.
There was bad, and then there was worse. Either of those would have been preferable to this.
Even if I found some way to kill him—my secret was out. The entire realm knew my weakness. Coronated or not, no Descended would accept a Queen without magic.
“Fellow citizens of Lumnos,” Rhon bellowed, “the Houses have judged our new Queen and have spoken unanimously to find her unworthy. And now we know—” He turned and pointed a finger at me. “—Blessed Mother Lumnos has found her unworthy, too.”
Thousands of bitter faces jeered in my direction. My eyes turned upward, glaring at the heavens and the cruel, capricious gods within. “This?” I yelled. “This is why you put me here?”
When I looked back down, Rhon’s back was to me. I took the opportunity to bolt across the arena floor to where another scattering of obstacles still lay intact, but my steps grew sluggish as defeat dampened my spirit.
Rhon caught a glimpse of me just before I reached a row of wine barrels. I dove for cover as he flung an arc of onyx barbs in my direction.
“It’s only a matter of time now,” he taunted. “You can’t win. Die and let us all go home.”
The barrels rattled violently as his magic battered into them. There was another tall boulder nearby—perhaps if I could distract him long enough to sneak behind it, I could buy myself time to think.
I stood up straight and stared him dead in the eye, letting him see my not-entirely-genuine lack of fear. “I don’t need magic to kill you, Rhon. I’ve got something even better.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “And what’s that?”
I gave him my sweetest smile and flicked a finger toward the sky. “A gryvern.”
Terror blanched his face. His eyes shot upward as he spun in circles and searched in vain for Sorae’s arrival. “You can’t,” he sputtered, “the rules—magic only—this isn’t allowed!”
I held back a laugh and darted for the boulder.
Too easy.
I had almost made it to safety when the toe of my boot hit a patch of mud. My foot slipped out from under me, and the momentum of my running carried me stumbling forward. My temple slammed against the boulder with a sickening crack.
The world went hazy. Stars danced in my eyes, ringing sounded in my ears. I tried to sit, but I couldn’t tell which direction was up.
Luther yelled my name. His voice sounded distant and muffled, like he was calling out from under water. I blinked furiously, trying hard to refocus.
A wave of sudden nausea set alarm bells blaring in my mind as my healer training kicked in, cataloguing the signs of a concussion. In a mortal, the symptoms could last for days, even weeks—how long would recovery take for a Descended like me?
I struggled to focus my blurry vision on the person-shaped blob advancing toward me. Slowly, he sharpened and took form, but there was something different about him.
He looked... clearer. Unobstructed.
“Your shield!” Luther roared, terror edging his voice.
I realized a second too late that my shield had dropped. With a cruel slash of a smile, Rhon thrust his palm out and razor-
sharp spikes plunged down at my chest.
“Diem!” Luther shouted.
Everything slowed, and the arena fell away.
I’D BEEN HERE BEFORE.
It was nighttime, and I was in the midst of war. I wore the same suit of dark, glittering armor, carrying the same blade of black and gold, still surrounded on all sides by rings of corpses extending as far as the eye could see.
Luther stood across from me, the blood-soaked Sword of Corbois in his hand. His dark hair lashed at his face in the breeze, his blue-grey eyes watching me with reverence. Just like before, his palm lay against the left side of his chest, and again, I echoed the movement.
But this time, something in the vision was different. Across the battlefield, the form of a man glowed as bright as the moon.
Everything about him was grey and colorless—his skin, his eyes, his hair.
The man stared at me and extended his hand. “Join me, Daughter of the Forgotten,” he purred in a voice like liquid darkness. “Together we will destroy this world and build it anew. We will end the Descended and their rule forever.”
He was almost too beautiful to look upon, and when I turned my gaze to him, I felt an overwhelming urge to kneel at his feet and surrender.
But something in me told me to resist. To fight.
Slowly, I shook my head.
The man’s eyes sharpened on me. “After all the Descended have done, you would still defend them? You would spare their lives, when they would so happily take your own?”
I hesitated. Some part of me did still despise the Descended for all the evil they had wrought over the centuries—evil they would gladly return to if left unchecked.
But they were still my people. The blood of the Kindred ran in my veins as surely as my mortal blood. If I wanted to be truly worthy of my Crown, I had to stop denying that truth. I was mortal. And I was Descended. And I would fight with
everything I had to protect them both.
From each other—and from him.
I straightened and lifted my sword. All around me, a wall of silver flames began to rise.
“I do not rule for you,” I shouted. “I rule for them.”
The man’s face froze over with vicious wrath. “Then you will die like the rest.”
A blinding explosion of light lit the world aglow until there was nothing but endless white.
Now, Daughter of the Forgotten, the voice whispered. Now, you are ready.
I WAS ONCE AGAIN in the arena.
Once again standing helpless as dark, spiked death speared for my heart.
There was no time to shield. No time to dodge.
Not even time to scream.
I could only watch in horror as the shadowy bolts made direct contact all across my body.
A gasp burst from the audience, and the realm of Lumnos collectively held their breath.
But I felt... nothing.
There was no pain of torn flesh, nor any crimson bloom of fresh blood. I didn’t fall backward from the force of any impact.
The only reaction at all was a soft glow and a deep prickling over my skin, a sensation that was at once ice and fire, frost and flame.
I ran my palm across my chest to feel for any puncture wounds or signs of injury and found none. My eyes lifted to Rhon’s, my own gobsmacked confusion matched on his expression.
I rose to my feet, still wobbly from my head injury but healing fast, and began to walk toward him. He fumbled to throw out another attack, then another, each one colliding against me with no effect. Wild murmurs skittered through the audience.
“How?” Rhon sputtered, stumbling to get away.
I shook my head. I had no answers to give. I knew very little about Descended magic as it was, but I could guess from the thousands of faces gaping at me that this was as new to them as it was to me.
My hands began to tingle. From one palm, swirling tendrils of darkness spilled out and puddled at my feet in a rolling fog.
From the other, scores of tiny orbs shimmered in the air like glitter in the sunlight. I wiggled my fingers and the orbs swelled and shrunk, then clumped together to take the form of a fluttering phoenix.
It struck me then—what I had been missing all this time.
I had been begging my godhood like a needy toddler, asking it to save me whenever I was scared or angry or in need of comfort. And, like a parent coddles a babe, at first it had watched over me, holding my hand protectively as I took my first tottering steps as a Descended.
But I wasn’t a child, and this world could spare no time for me to learn to walk. My mother and her flameroot powder had taken that chance away.
I was a Queen, with a realm in peril and a populace who needed me, and I would have to do far more than walk. Whoever it was that watched over me—the voice, the godhood, maybe even Lumnos herself—had forced me to learn a painful but necessary lesson.
Even Luther had told me, but I didn’t fully understand until now. The magic doesn’t just answer to you, it’s part of you. Be proud of who you are, and embrace it.
I did not need to surrender to my power in helpless submission, nor did I need to beg it to come save me. All this time, I had been waiting for the godhood to embrace me, when what I really needed to do was embrace myself.
Just as I cherished the humanity and love that my mortal family had instilled in me, so too could I wield my immortality, my magic, and my Crown with pride. Both halves were necessary to make me whole, and I would not succeed in this war without accepting them both.
I turned my focus back to Rhon. With barely a thought, the light and shadows in my hands took the shape of two arrows, each one pointed at his chest.
His eyes bulged. He shoved his hands toward me and unleashed the full brunt of his magic. An armory’s worth of dark weaponry assailed me from every side.
I didn’t bother to raise a shield, and as more and more of his magic connected with my flesh, I had the curious feeling that it was refilling my energy—making me stronger, rather than weaker.
I stood in perfect stillness within his torrent of power. Eventually the forms of his attacks became blurry and misshapen, then hazy, until finally the darkness that trickled from his palms was no more than smoke.
He stumbled over his feet and crashed, quivering, to the sandy ground.
My light magic flared at his ankles and bound them together in a glowing chain, then did the same with his wrists. My shadows twined around his limbs, writhing against him, encircling his neck and tightening like a noose.
The magic seemed so simple now, so blissfully effortless. As easy as flexing a fist, as natural as smiling.
“I didn’t even want to Challenge you,” he bleated. “No one in my House did. The Hanoverres forced us—they said we would be voted out of the Twenty Houses if we didn’t. Even the Warden was with them.”
I shook my head and stalked toward him. “It’s not your Challenge that has condemned you. I gave you the chance to walk away and let that child live.”
“Please,” he whimpered, “don’t kill me.”
“I begged you then, like you’re begging me now. You should have listened.”
“It’s the law!” He looked around in a wild frenzy, as if someone might come running to save him. “I didn’t have a choice!”
“I gave you a choice.” With a twitch of my finger, the dark rope squeezed his neck. “You chose murder over compassion.
Why should I not sentence you to the same fate?”
“Mercy,” he wailed. “My Queen, please have mercy!” He clasped his bound hands together, his head bowed low as he sobbed for clemency.
The crowd’s thirst for violence reached a fever pitch. There was no longer any doubt who was the victor. Rhon had no magic left, and even if he did, it had no effect on me. I had shown that I could wield my magic—and kill with it, if I so desired.
The Challenging was over. I had won.
All that was left now was to take a life.
But as the clamor rose louder, the spectators screaming their demands for death, I found my own bloodlust washing away.
Rhon deserved to die. He had taken two innocent lives in a cruel and unnecessary killing, and he had done it purely to spare himself the embarrassment of being caught.
But he had also done it to protect his House. And while it would never, ever be a good enough excuse for the murder of an innocent, these past weeks had shown me how the Descended’s power-crazed society could push people to the darkest corners of themselves.
If I had any hope of leading this realm to peace, I would have to show them there was a better way. I would have to create the better world I wanted to live in, one act of compassion at a time.
I rolled my wrist and let my magic fall away.
“Yield,” I commanded. “Kneel to me and submit.”
“I yield!” he blurted out. He scrambled forward to kneel at my feet. “I am your loyal servant.”
“Swear to me that if I let you walk away from this arena, you will never take an innocent life ever again.”
He took my hands and kissed them. “Never, Your Majesty, I swear it.”
I wrinkled my nose and tugged my hands away. Rhon collapsed to the ground with a moan of relief. I stepped back and raised my voice so the audience could hear my words.
“The true measure of strength is not in the lives we take, but in the lives we save. Rhon Ghislaine, I spare your life today.
Take your second chance and use it wisely—do not make me regret my mercy.”
Boos and unhappy mutters rose from the crowd as I denied them the murder they had come here to see. I turned my back to Rhon, then set off toward the stairs, where Luther was waiting for me at the base.
When my eyes met his, I expected to see relief, or amusement, or perhaps a smug I-told-you-so.
What I saw was so much more.
Luther gazed at me like I was the embodiment of hope fulfilled. Like I was the answer to every question he had ever asked, the harmony to every song he’d ever sung. He looked at me like I was the sun and the moon and the stars, all the light in the world, shining a path for him out of the lonely dark.
He had believed in me from the very start. Not only because of my magic, but because of my heart—who I was, my courage and my compassion, and my willingness to fight.
If Luther was right about what I was meant to do, then today was only the beginning of the challenges we would face. But today we had won. And if we ever hoped to survive this with our souls intact, we would have to celebrate every victory we could get.
I beamed back at him and let my shoulders relax as weeks of tension washed away. Pride, so much pride, emanated from his features. Just as he had in the vision, he pressed his palm to his chest.
I raised my hand to do the same, but Luther’s expression shifted as his eyes darted over my shoulder. His nostrils flared, his muscles pulling tight.
“One last thing, Your Majesty,” Rhon’s voice called out from behind me.
I spun on my heel to see him barely three feet away, hands clasped behind his back in submission. He nodded his head low and looked up at me through his long, golden lashes.
“Yes?” I asked.
He cocked his head. “The Challenging isn’t over until one of us dies.”
Rhon pushed off his heel and launched into the air, one arm coming around his back clutching a slim, glittering black knife and thrusting straight for the center of my chest.
I had no time to react. Before I even realized what was happening, the point of his blade had already pierced the fabric of
my suit and scraped my skin.
But I didn’t need time.
I needed only the whisper of a thought—and then, with a flash of silver light, he was gone. Where a man once stood, there was now a cloud of ash and the faint smell of burnt flesh.
The crowd sat in shocked silence as they—and I—made sense of what had just occurred. Then, slowly, the applause began, then whoops and hollers of approval, growing to a deafening, jubilant roar.
Finally, they had their pound of flesh, and they celebrated it with delight.
The sound of it ignited my fury.
I had tried to show mercy. I had offered them peace, something beautiful and human, a chance at a better world, and they
had turned up their noses.
Fine.
If I could not persuade them with peace, then I would do it with fear.
I spread my arms in an arc at my sides. A deluge of shadows surged around me, coating the sandy floor with a sea of midnight ink that churned in a raging whirlpool at my feet. Thorny black vines crept up the walls of the arena, then moved higher, their spiked ends tapping ominously against the protective barrier.
An orb of shimmering light formed around me and lifted me on a cushion of air until I hovered high above the ground.
Glowing stars swarmed like fireflies, and from my outstretched fingers, jagged bolts of lightning sparked and formed a blinding web of sizzling pale blue.
The audience cowered as my magic thrashed against the invisible wall that protected them from me. Then their terrified faces turned up to something even more alarming.
High above the amphitheater, the sunlit sky began to fade away. There were no clouds in sight, but the sky darkened nevertheless, fading in seconds to pitch-black night.
My skin illuminated with a radiant, moonlight sheen, my hair floating weightlessly around me as I scanned the crowd. Some were frozen in their seats, while others panicked and scrambled for the exits.
I closed my eyes and reached out for the Forging magic that flowed through the soil of the realm. I felt it thrumming all around me, running from border to border and buzzing brightly with all the life that it touched. I allowed my own magic to pour into it until the two energies merged and became one. There was no longer a realm and her Queen, but one single devastating force of nature.
With a snap of my fingers, the protective barrier fell. The invisible wall shattered into a cloud of glowing slivers that swirled and scattered on a sudden updraft of wind.
In the stands, the spectators fought each other to get away, some going so far as to turn their weapons on members of their own House to beat a path to safety.
That simply would not do.
I jerked my wrists, and the vines coating the arena walls multiplied. Thousands of tendrils whipped out and wrapped around the throats of every Descended in the amphitheater, forcing them to still.
“Your Queen has not dismissed you,” I scolded. My voice sounded different to my own ears. It was cold and ancient, deeply powerful, the timbre of some far more fearsome creature.
“The Challenging is not over until you have judged me and found me worthy,” I continued, spitting out the last word with disgust. “If there are any who believe my choice of Challenger was insufficient, or who doubt whether I am strong enough to rule... speak now. I will not give you a second chance.”
My eyes roved over the crowd until they paused on Jean Hanoverre. I crooked a finger, and the vine at his neck pulled taut, nearly yanking him from his seat.
“Well, Jean?” I purred. “Tell me, has my magic satisfied you?”
He clawed at the dark cord at his throat. I squeezed it tighter until he was gasping for breath. He quickly nodded.
I hummed in mock consideration. “Perhaps I should kill every Challenger to ensure there is no doubt I could have outmatched any of them. Do you think that’s necessary, Jean?”
“No,” he choked out.
“No, what?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
My gaze trailed to his grandmother, Marthe. “Will House Hanoverre kneel to its Queen?”
She eyed me with cold consideration, a gleam of defiance still burning in her gaze. I had to respect her tenacity.
“House Hanoverre will kneel, Your Majesty,” she said finally.
“House Benette?” I called out with a glare toward Evrim.
Wisely, he wasted no time in dipping his chin. “House Benette will kneel, Your Majesty.”
I glanced over my shoulder to House Byrnum. I didn’t have to do more than lift an eyebrow before Ryx and Ravyn were on their knees and swearing their undying fealty.
I lowered myself to the arena floor. With a sweep of my hands, the dark, choppy sea of magic parted, opening up a path to the stairs. I strode toward them until I stood in front of Luther.
The joyful grin on his face nearly broke me, but I managed to preserve my menacing facade. I wrapped my fingers around the vine that led to his neck, gently tugging him down until his lips hovered over mine.
“And what of House Corbois?” I murmured softly.
His hand slid around the back of my neck and pulled me in for a deep, reverent kiss. “House Corbois will kneel, my Queen,” he breathed when we parted.
I released him from my magic and took his hand, and together we climbed the long staircase to the royal box.
When we arrived on the final step, I turned to Remis and Garath. “Uncles,” I chirped. “Are we going to have any more problems?”
They shared an unhappy look but held their tongues and shook their heads. I took the amplification device from Remis and turned to face the arena, dissolving the vines that held the crowd at my whim.
“Citizens of Lumnos,” I announced, “I am no longer Unchallenged. My reign begins today.”
In the distance, the cry of an approaching gryvern, newly freed of her order to stay away, pierced through the air. My smile finally cracked at the sound of Sorae’s triumphant roar.
“Kneel before your Queen,” I commanded.
And, one by one, they did.
