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Riven nodded. “That story only worked if as many people as possible believed it. Only Feron and I knew the entire truth.”

I crossed my arms. “Only Feron and you decided to lie to everyone.”

Riven’s jaw pulsed and his head hung between his shoulders. “I thought I was protecting them.”

I shook my head. “You were protecting yourself. You decided to stake the well-being of the Elverin on your secret and didn’t care how it festered.” I turned to Syrra. “A secret is like a poison.”

She frowned but didn’t argue. She had made the choice to keep Riven’s secret too.

I kicked a rock along the ground. “But you didn’t protect them. You were right there, Riven. At my feet.” I pulled at my hair, unable to contain all the emotions swirling inside me. They thrashed and scraped at my hollowness. “I would’ve known. I would’ve been able to get to her in time.”

My shoulders slumped and I fell back down to the ground under the weight of what that meant. “He knew,” I whispered.

Gerarda’s breath hitched but my eyes were locked on Riven.

“Damien knew,” I repeated when his brow furrowed.

“No.” Riven’s shadows thrashed behind him. “Damien couldn’t have known. Apart from Feron, everyone who has ever known is right here.”

My nose wrinkled. I knew I was right. “Collin?”

“No.” Riven shook his head. “Collin never knew.”

“But Damien does.” I straightened my knees. “He has known. Why else would he leave you there in that alley. He could have killed us both, but he didn’t.”

Riven blinked, his head still shaking. “My brother and I have had little contact since I left the capital as a teenager. If that was true he would’ve had to have known for—”

“Years,” I finished. “Decades. He’s known the entire time. I’m sure of it.”

My mind spun with Damien’s smug face. He had sent me to kill the Shadow, he let Killian leave the capital after he murdered the king, and then he had us both in his clutches but he still let us go. It didn’t serve a purpose for him unless he knew. Unless he had known the entire time, that he held a truth that could shake us to the very core and unravel the rebellion in one fell swoop.

I play for my opponents to lose.

“He wanted this.” I stood with barely any air in my lungs. “He wanted all of this. That’s why he chose Maerhal.”

Syrra picked up her sister in her arms. Her eyes were red but hard. “He used the truth as a weapon and he used it well.” Her hands tightened their hold on her sister. “Maerhal deserves better than the ground to rest.” She turned away and Nikolai and Vrail followed.

“Why now?” Riven rasped. “Why do it now?”

“Because we are winning,” Gerarda answered. She stood and took her place beside me. “United we were strong enough to face him, so he needed to make us crumble.”

We had given Damien the time he needed. The new Blade was already on his way to the last seal. Our Fae were expended and our hope lost. Exhaustion pulled at every joint in my body; I was stiff and in need of a long sleep. There was no way I had the stamina to break that seal.

Damien had the head start he needed.

My fists clenched at my sides. Riven collapsed onto the ground and yelped. There was another flash of light. Killian lay at my feet, exhausted but no longer in pain that overwhelmed him. The jade eye that wasn’t swollen shut looked up at mine. “There are no words in any tongue I know that could ever begin to describe my regret.”

I crossed my arms and glanced at Gerarda, whose dark eyes were a hard glare looking down at the prince. “You needn’t worry,” she said to him. “The dead can’t hear them.”

A thick tear dropped from Killian’s—Riven’s—cheek and onto the ground. Part of me longed to say something that would ease the pain of that regret, but I knew there was none. Gerarda looped her arm through mine and we left the unmasked Fae prince on the trail.

CHAPTERFORTY-EIGHT

FERON STOOD AT THE EDGEof the treed city as Gerarda and I walked out of the Dark Wood. His lilac eyes were lined with tears and I knew he had seen the truth in Syrra’s arms. I had no pity for him. The hollowness the guilt had burrowed through me had filled with anger that I didn’t know would ever cool.

Feron reached for my hand but I did not take it. I stood tall, making a point to have my head rest higher than him and waited for his weak words to come.

His lips pursed to the side. “Thank you for bringing Maerhal home.”