I nod, and lift both of my hands to her chin, gently.
"I forgive you," I tell her through my tears.
Then I suck the life out of her, bit by bit, absorbing her essence, ignoring the shouts and screams of my father, held back by his mother. I keep taking, and taking and taking every exquisite ounce of her power inside me, until she falls at my feet.
Empty. Cold. Dead. Sacrificed.
We bury her in the inner garden. Drusk digs a deep grave, after he comes back with a sniveling human. I suck him too, till he cries, begging for mercy.
Then, I break his neck, and step over him.
The four stones are dropped at the bottom of the well. I start to shovel. My father doesn’t say a word. I don’t say a word. I know I’ve lost him.
What I’ve gained in exchange is time.
The spell works. I feel the shields surround us—I’ve had them erupt right where they used to be, simply because I’m familiar with that setup.
The humans right next to the gates are still inside, but the rest of the army is cut off.
We make short work of them, now that we don’t have to fear thousands of mortals replacing those we destroy. Besides, I’m in great form now. Matricide must be healthy.
There are no celebrations for the reclamation of Whitecroft. The only songs I allow are the odes of a soft queen, too gentle for times of war. Some of the ballads are quite good. I expect they’ll outlive us.
There are no celebrations for my coronation. I’ve earned this crown because the folk need a monster to lead them. No one is dumb enough to think that’s a good thing.
I sit on the throne, alone on the dais, and the room is silent. We’ve given the lower kings and queens a summary of my mother’s decisions, and they watch me warily. As they should.
Ina is the first to speak. “What now, Your Grace?”
I let my eyes drag to her. “We go north as planned. You, I, whoever else has the guts to follow. We don’t have the element of surprise on our side anymore. The usurper has been warned. We will go nonetheless. We’ll take the shy folk. Today has proved how valuable archers are.” I say nothing about my intention to venture toward Old Crest. “And when I am back, I expect each court to be prepared for an attack. We’ve been on the defensive for too long. I’ll build shields around our kingdom, and we will take it back. But first, I will have you kneel.”
I look into each of their faces.
“The Court of Ash betrayed us. Hundreds of fae died today because my mother was too soft to keep the salamanders in line. You can kneel and swear to me, or you can get out.”
Empty, cold, and dead. Just like my mother is right now. Just like she should have been all along.
I stand, letting the silence wrap around me.
I’ve given them a true choice. They can turn their backs on me, leave and kneel to Violet. If they don’t, they’ll have to swear to me in a binding oath.
They all kneel.
I leave, returning to my empty room.
Only then do I allow myself to cry.
Lost in Stars
Vlari
Idon’t know how that wyrfox gets in. All I know is that sometimes, before the light of day reaches its apex, it crawls on my lap. I let it.
It’s almost midday when my door opens without a knock. I don’t move. I don’t need to turn to sense him. Besides, no one would dare enter my room like this, not with the crown still on my head.
Drusk circles the chair I’ve claimed next to the fireplace. The wyrfox, reluctant to be close to anyone except me, is quick to dart off my lap, slinking away. From the corner of my eye, I see him leap out of the window. I suppose he must have come in from there—though my room is on the third floor.
I don’t bother to pay attention to the wyrfox, or Drusk for that matter. I look straight ahead at the ashes in the hearth. I haven’t bothered to stoke the fire back to life. If it’s cold, I can’t feel it.
