Page 120 of The Crown of Moonlight

“You know, I’ve grown to enjoy the name they call me,” the same voice says, close to my bad ear yet loud enough that I hear him clearly.“The Butcher has a poetic ring to it, but I think I will enjoy Maiden Slayer even better.It invokes so many delightful possibilities, don’t you think?”

Chyr is shouting.Others, too.Footsteps pound closer.

But I’m not dead yet, and my dagger is in my hand.

I throw my hips back and use the Butcher’s body as leverage to push myself off the sword.The blade tears through more flesh as it dislodges, but I don’t care.I push magic into my dagger to transform it into my hard-won sword as I turn, and I thrust it into the Butcher’s chest.

It’s the first time that I’ve seen him.He’s shorter than I thought he would be, and younger, with a round, almost feminine face set off by a long, powdered wig.The red coat he wears has rows of braid and silver buttons, and a large amulet hangs from a gold chain around his neck.His eyes have gone wide in horror.Blood bubbles at the corner of his mouth as he gropes at the wound with hands that are etched in runes that glow a garish purple.I don’t wait to watch if he’ll fall.Shade and Shadow are already tearing at him with their teeth.

Chyr, Ronan, and the others rush towards me, and though the place where the doorway should have opened isn’t far, it feels like a long time until they reach me.

I lean across the Altar, lining up so the blood that drips from my chest falls into the nearest bowl.The stone cavity is already half-filled with rainwater, but it’s too late to worry about that now.

“Great Mother, Cailleach,” I begin, “I don’t know what words I am meant to speak.It’s been too long since the true queen died, and the words didn’t pass down in the stories.All I can offer you are the promises in my heart.I will be true to this land and the people of Alba Scoria, and I will serve the gods in any way that is just and honourable.I swear to this on the life I give you freely, now or whenever you ask me to sacrifice myself.I pray that you’ll find a new Maiden to take my place, one who can defeat the darkness that Vheara brings.And because defeating Vheara requires all our strength, I beg that you accept my sacrifice without a consort.”

“No!”Chyr reaches me.He’s beside me.“Pick me, Fierceness.I beg you.”

He pulls the dagger from his belt and slices it across his palm.Blood wells and thins with rain.

“Don’t,” I manage to say.“This isn’t because I don’t love you.I can’t choose you because I do.”

Everything hurts.The ragged pain in Chyr’s eyes, the burn of torn flesh in my chest.The thought of losing him.

He reaches across the Altar of the Moon to let his blood spill into the consort’s cup.

“Stop.”The words are the same words coming from my mouth, but it’s Sean’s voice speaking.Sean grasps Chyr’s wrist and drags him from the altar.

“Let go of me, Sean.I’m warning you.If you keep me from fulfilling the Compact, you’ll be banished.”

“She hasn’t chosen you, idiot,” Sean says.“And I can’t let her.She can’t be queen.”

“Then you are breaking the Compact.”

“Like you, I have other oaths,” Sean snarls.“Ask your uncle the next time you see him.”

Magic flares somewhere.A sword sings, and I smell the ironless sweetness of Siorai blood.Someone is behind me, holding me up.Magic pours into me, and I look back to find Fergal and Ronan there.

“Hold on, wildcat,” Ronan says.“Don’t you dare give up.”

“Never.”

I see Sean fall and Niall standing behind him with his sword bloody.Chyr is reaching for me.

My eyes close, and I pray as I have never prayed before.Not with words or even thoughts.This prayer comes from my heart, from the hope I cling to with every stubborn fibre of being.I pray for the people and the place I love, for their future.For good to win.And I pray for Chyr, because the way he is looking at me is making me feel that I’ve betrayed him.

But he chose me, and now I choose him.Just not in the way he wanted.

Pain flares in my chest, and I cough.Blood spatters across the altar.

More pain bursts across my forehead, but the sensation is cool, not the fire of the Crown of Flame.It’s the soft glow of the moon, the sweet refuge of night falling after the killing heat of a summer day.The Crown of Moonlight is rest and reawakening, and it takes the pain from my chest and fills me with a sense of peace.

I pull myself upright and hold out my hand for Chyr.“This was the only way.I don’t know what your oaths to your uncle will mean, but if he wants you to have the throne of Alba Scoria, he’ll need us all to work together.Win the war first, then worry about who wears the crown.”

Chyr is on his knees, his body bowed in pain.He looks up through glazed eyes, and I know he’s fighting with everything he has.

“I will love you until my last breath, my last thought, the last beat of my heart.No matter what I may be forced to do, please always remember that.”

On the hilltop above us, a signal beacon flares.Then another.All around Muilean, the beacons light, and I breathe a sigh.

It used to be that the fires burned when the Cailleach crowned a queen.And now they burn for me.