Page 69 of Four Ruined Realms (The Broken Blades #2)

Euyn

The Palace of the Sky King, Khitan

I’ve never been more nervous in my life—not when I was waiting in the catacombs of the King’s Arena, not when I was in Idle Prison, not when I was buried alive in the Amrok Desert. And what I feel is nothing compared to the look on Mikail’s face. But I have it. I have the ring. Now, the trick is to make it out of here with all our lives.

I saw a way out right before I offered this wager, when I realized Mikail had been outplayed and we were headed to Quilimar’s dungeons. I’d thought I would merely die to free everyone, and I’d accepted it, but I think we can all escape if the gods are on our side.

My sister has made the grievous mistake of underestimating me. This time, she put me in a room with a bow. She was a champion fencer, but she’s forgotten my skill as an archer—probably because she called it a coward’s weapon. The guard over by the corner of the table has a crossbow loosely hanging at his side. If I can reach it, we have a chance. The armor of all these guards exposes the neck, sides, and legs. They’re targets the size of a barn for a good shot.

We can do this if everyone else is ready—or at least Mikail.

But if the gods turn their backs and I can’t make it out, at least Quilimar will have to release the others. I owe all of them that much, even Aeri, who in the end didn’t betray us. Well, this time.

I can’t focus on the crossbow because it’ll give me away, but I hope Mikail or Royo notices. Aeri could easily steal the bow. I look at her and then at Mikail. But my sister is losing patience. Quilimar keeps pressing her lips together. She is having difficulty containing her enthusiasm for my death, which is a bit disquieting. I was aware that she hated me. I remember her face as she passed by my bedroom when Joon would tell me stories. She’d look so disgusted, then go to her quarters with the slam of a door. However, I didn’t think it went this far. I was never to blame for her being forced to marry or anything else that’s happened to her. But somehow, I’ve taken the fall.

However, right now, I have to at least try to turn this egg to gold. I sigh. Even the sentence in my head is ridiculous. A human being can’t turn an egg to gold. But then again, the amarth and samroc aren’t real, and yet they are. Joon should have died any number of times, but the Immortal Crown saved his life. I suppose anything is possible in the three realms.

I touch the ring to the egg.

“Turn to gold,” I murmur.

I look at the egg with an onyx black shell. It would be something amazing to see it turned to solid, expensive gold.

Suddenly, pain like I’ve never felt before careens down my arm—so much that it is hard to keep my hand extended. I yell out and steady my arm with my right hand. The agony is as bad as when the arrow hit my leg. No, as when Mikail pulled the arrow out without warning. It feels like my arm is splitting apart.

But it is not.

The ring begins to glow. It shimmers against the shell of the egg, and then I forget my pain because of the golden halo in front of me. The light bursts and then fades in a twinkling, leaving a solid gold egg on the table.

Gods on High.

My heart stops, and my mouth falls open. I did it. I wielded the ring.

Everyone stares, and no one moves, because I really am royalty.

Oh, my whore of a mother. I gnash my teeth. I would kill her all over again if I could. Theum was my real father…or one of his sons fathered me.

I have had the passing feeling more than once when I remember Joon telling me bedtime stories, and I considered it again after Mikail said he refused to order my death. The Lesser Queen wasn’t much older than Joon when she married King Theum. And Joon is twenty-two years my senior—old enough to have fathered me. But I hadn’t dared to even think it until now.

Joon or Omin was my real father.

My arm drops uselessly at my side, the pain still radiating through me. I tuck it into my vest, and I remember my plan to take the bow.

“Mikail!” I glance meaningfully at the guard with the crossbow. He follows my line of sight, and the realization dawns on his face.

“Weapon!” one of the guards shouts. I look around, realizing too late that they think I’m reaching for a blade in my clothes.

Quilimar rips a saber from her sleeve. Her face contorts in rage as she aims right for my chest.

Weaponless, I have no defense. I take my arm out in a feeble attempt to protect myself, like I did in the ambush in the Tangun Mountain pass. Then I remember the ring.

Turn to gold, sister.

I touch the ring to her breast. Incredible pain, twice as great as before, shoots up my arm, and the ring glows. Quilimar lets out a piercing scream.

Nearly the same moment I reach her with the ring, her blade finds a home, cutting through my flesh. The glow of the ring disappears as her saber goes through my ribs and cuts into my heart.

We both fall to the floor. I think. I hear a thud of a body hitting the ground, and I assume it’s Quilimar, but I can’t move.

“The queen!” guards yell out. “Save the queen!”

I want to see if she’s dead, but all I can do is stare up at the ceiling—the painted stars and clouds. The rain falling into the fountain makes a musical sound, and the percussion of the drums is fading. There’s a beauty to the quiet.

Mikail dives onto the floor by my side.

“Euyn,” he cries. “Euyn! Euyn, what did you do? What did you do?”

I see his gorgeous face, but he’s staring down at my chest. I don’t have to look to know her saber is lodged in my heart. Strangely, though, I don’t feel pain anymore. I don’t feel much of anything.

I hear my name called, but the voice is not human. It must be the Soul Reaper calling me to the Road of Souls, and there is no declining his command.

“Yours in this life and the next,” I whisper.

Mikail shakes his head, eyes wet with tears. “Yours in this life and the next.”

He’s rocking me, I think. Either way, I feel him all around me.

I’d feared this for so many years—dying, being killed by a violent hand. Now it’s here, and all I can see or think about is Mikail. I feel his love surrounding me like a warm blanket on a cold day. I was so lonely before I met him, wandering the massive palace halls by myself. No father. A mother who’d beat me before deigning to hold my hand. Siblings who dismissed me. What an incredible thing it was to have found him. To have had his hand brush mine in the garden all those years ago. What a gift to have loved him every day since. And to have had his love, too.

It is such a blessing to think of love in the end. I feel nothing but gratitude.

I love you, Mikail.

I try to say it. I think I do. My vision is fading, but I hold on to the image of his face as long as I can. My first love. My last.