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“Why do you think that?” I asked.

Eleanor refused to answer. With every moment, her expression became more imperial. The seven applications of ashflower continued to improve her, and the Brand shrank further, moving down her chin.

“Zayne, give me the last of the ashflower,” she ordered. “Teyr said it would be handed to me.”

I didn’t move. I didn’t give her the ashflower, but I didn’t turn her away. Ayla needed it, and if Eleanor was wrong, if she failed to claim the throne or didn’t have the power she claimed, Ayla would fall victim to her Brand.

I couldn’t let that happen.

In the barn, I had seen Shades making Shades. I couldn’t submit Ayla to such a fate. I couldn’t allow her brilliant soul to be contained, her body forced to crawl into an icy coffin.

Eleanor already looked better. The throne was helping her. Maybe she would keep improving.

“Now,” my sister insisted.

I hesitated. But Ayla made up her mind.

She swept forward, grabbed the ashflower, and ran.

31 | Adversaries

Ayla

Soon I’d be a Shade.

Technically, that wasn’t true. First, I’d freeze to death. Then my body would be bled, andthenI would be reanimated as a Shade.

Only, it hadn’t happened.

Not yet.

There had to be another way. I just didn’t see it. I wanted to live—I didn’t trust Eleanor. Desperate, driven by the base instinct to live…

I stole the ashflower.

Not that I had anywhere to go. We were locked in this room. I had no plan. Darkness descended around me as I settled into a defensive stance in a shadowy corner.

Zayne watched, too stunned to react. I braced for his betrayal. Eleanor had just ordered him to pick her over me. He had no reason to choose me.

Everything that had happened between us—only a few days—felt insignificant compared to their history. Together, they had escaped the Collapse.

My heart rate settled as I shifted my feet. I blinked and saw the two of them anew, prince and princess before their shabby throne. This was their quest, a story of inherent power and siblings uniting against impossible odds.

There wasn’t room for me in this narrative.

My knees wobbled. For a moment, the Brand seized my doubt and tugged, trying to unravel me.No.I fought back my control.

In the long silence, Ninti rose from the base of the throne and jumped onto my shoulder. “Can we talk about this?” the Firewolf asked.

She was right. If we brainstormed instead of reacting, maybe we could find an alternative.

“Let’s talk,” I agreed.

Eleanor blinked up at us, her face turning red with frustration. She pulled herself from the floor, sitting with her back resting against the seat of the throne. The effort took all her strength.

The throne’s root remained cuffed to her wrist. She rubbed the binding with her free hand, inspecting it.

Zayne helped Eleanor move. Then his gaze turned distant, like it did when he contemplated the Underworld. He gasped. “I’m not sure there’s time—”