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CHAPTER 41

Islam my fist into his face, snapping his head sharply to the side. He barely moves, unyielding as marble, and the strike sends a fierce ache through my knuckles. The pain is sharp and biting, but I need it to sharpen my senses. I have to feel something other than heartbreak.

Magic charges me now, and I strike again and again, until he blocks my punch with his forearm. He sweeps his elbow back, bringing it down onto my shoulder, nearly sending me to the ground. Dimly, the pain registers, but my magic is still pounding through me, dulling the agony.

I rush for him again.

Furious, we collide in a maelstrom of blows—hitting, blocking, fists slamming with bone-shaking force. It’s not just violence, it’s a revelation. We strip off until we are the real, primal Fey beneath the masks.

There’s a brutal rhythm in the way we tear into each other, testing each other. It’s easier this way. I’ll take the sharp physical pain over the unbearable conversation we were just having.

We meet punch for punch, a whirlwind of wild destruction. And it’s still safer than what we might say if we stopped.

My breath comes in ragged gasps, and his skin glows with the exertion, but neither of us is slowing.

Then, with a terrifying force, he slams me back. The air rips from my lungs as my spine meets a tree trunk. Pain reverberates up through my skull.

His eyes darken as he pins me to the trunk. Something flickers within those shadowed depths, an emotion I can finally read after all these months. I haven’t done much to hurt his body, but I’ve cut him deeply all the same.

A lock of his dark hair brushes his cheekbones, and pain burns in his eyes. In fact, for a split second, he looks utterlycrushed.Ruined. And that wrecks me, carves me up. I feel like my heart is open to the elements, laid out for the crows to pluck.

What I want right now is a magic that can take me back in time to fix all this. I want to change it all. But that’s not a magic I possess.

So, right now, I’m drowning in regret. Gods, what did I think would happen? Did I think this could possibly end in anything except blood and heartbreak?

“I’ll go back to Camelot,” I say desperately.

His eyes narrow. “You were so fragile before. The wheezing breaths, the slow movements. But that was a role you were playing, too, because you’re not fragile anymore. You’re powerful.” His head tilts. “Layers and layers of lies.”

“I can explain my strength.”

His expression shifts, a mocking smile spreading across his lips. “But what good is talk when truth for you is as substantial as ashes in the wind?”

My heart hammers. I push away from him and try to run, but he grabs my arm.

Thunder booms in the sky, drowning out my words, and a flock of crows dart from the branches, cawing. It feels like an orchestra of chaos all around me. A symphony of heartbreak.

As I try to run from him again, he grabs me by the shoulders, shoving me back into the tree. The wind rushes out of my lungs. Overhead, lightning pierces the sky, illuminating his beautiful face.

Pain shows from the shadowed depths of his eyes. It’s the kind of thing he should put into words, but he never will. That’s not his style.

When I look at him, it feels far worse than his anger.

And in the next heartbeat, he’s mastered control of his expression, his gaze shuttering.

I know what that expression means now, too. An iron-studded door slamming shut, bolts locking in place. I won’t be getting back in again any time soon.

“And where do you think you’re going?” he asks quietly.

I breathe hard.

There are still more secrets to reveal, aren’t there? And suddenly, I want to let them all out.

Inside my body, the power of the three surges. Their magic floods me like an ancient river. Morgan and Nimuë’s melodious voices whisper in my thoughts.We speak in the voice of lakes, dark and deep, far below the surface where fire forges steel.

A queen’s power roars to life inside me.Take the crown that belongs to us. Take what’s yours.

Imbued with their magic, I shove him hard.