Page 49 of The Crown of the Last Fae Queen (The Heartless and the Wicked #4)

Aesileif screamed and Vidar rose to his feet, his wings splayed out protectively to hide her. Bits of flesh and skin hung off his cheek, blood bathing him in sharp, deep scarlet. An animalistic growl emanated from him, and all at once, he sprang to life, magic bursting from him in thick waves.

As if something had awakened within him, he moved without restraint. He tore off limbs and blasted heads with his shadow magic; in minutes, he was standing alone in the room, corpses littered around him. The walls were splattered with blood, and he was drenched in it himself.

Trembling, he fell to his knees. Cuts and gashes covered his body, and he turned sharply to Aesileif, who was cowering a few feet away from him, her wide eyes fastened on the dead bodies.

“Princess—” he whispered, coughing wetly.

Kolfinna covered her mouth at the sight of his face. Blood gushed from his cheek and neck, and bloomed over his tunic. Threads of sticky blood dribbled down his chin; sections of his skin were shredded by the light magic, and some of his flesh had been burned off.

This was how Vidar had received his scars? By protecting Aesileif? It matched with the story he had told her, but … but she’d never imagined it would look this gruesome.

Aesileif’s eyes only grew wider and she stumbled toward him. Each inhale seemed to wrench from her body painfully as she stared at him, tears welling up and slipping down her cheeks. She dropped down in front of him, her hands going to his face.

“No, no, no!” she whispered.

“ Shh .” He touched her hand against his uninjured cheek, a haunting smile lifting his lips. “I am well. Are you hurt?”

“N-no.”

He traced her collarbone, where a shallow cut marred her pale skin.

“Vidar—” She choked back a sob. “Your face?—”

“It doesn’t hurt,” he whispered again, pulling her to his chest. He held her as she shook, weeping. “It’s not your fault.”

“I—I’m sorry?—”

Another boom sounded and the floor shook again. Vidar tightened his hold on Aesileif, a murderous look flashing over his face as he turned to the door, and even Kolfinna half-expected more intruders to enter. She covered her mouth with trembling fingers as her parents slowly rose to their feet.

Aesileif’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “M-my family. Vidar!” She clutched the front of his bloodied tunic. “My family?—”

“Let’s go,” he said, tugging her toward the exit.

They ran out of the door, and Blár and Kolfinna followed after them.

They found chaos throughout the palace; there had very clearly been a fight, though it seemed to have been subdued.

Dead humans and fae guards scattered every hallway.

Aesileif ran with all her might, Vidar struggling behind her as blood spotted the floors.

There was a wildness on her face as she whipped her head left and right.

Then, finally, they burst into the throne room and Aesileif let out a bloodcurdling scream.

She stumbled, nearly falling to the floor, her teary eyes glued to where her mother and father lay on the floor, their bodies covered in thick blood.

The throne room was in disarray. Blasts of magic had destroyed most of the columns, the banners were burned, and the throne itself was cracked in half.

Aesileif threw herself over her parents’ bodies, grasping at them and shrieking incoherently. Her father’s throat had been slashed, and her mother was staring lifelessly at the ceiling, a spear of ice jutting from her chest.

“Aesileif—” Vidar touched her shoulder, but she only continued to scream. “ Aesileif! ”

Finally, her attention swerved to the left, where her sister was on the floor a few feet away. She had put up a good fight, too, judging by all the corpses surrounding her, but there had been too many intruders. Kolfinna watched somberly as Aesileif dragged herself toward Elin.

“Elin—” Aesileif touched her cheek. “Open your eyes. Please! ”

Elin’s eyes fluttered open, but they were glazed—she had moments left. There was too much blood seeping from her abdomen, gurgling at her mouth. When her eyes found Aesileif, disbelief shone in them.

“You’re alive,” she whispered, coughing wetly.

“Vidar, call for a healer!” Aesileif turned to him. “Quick?—”

“No,” Elin raised her hand weakly and touched her sister’s cheek. Blood smeared from her fingers onto Aesileif’s face, and then her hand fell.

Aesileif grabbed it, holding onto her like she was all she had left.

“Aesileif, you must … become queen.”

“No, I can’t?—”

“Enough.” A bitter, twisted frown formed on her lips.

“Do you think I want to leave my throne to you? You, who are so weak-minded, weak-spirited, and weak-bodied? You can never become anything, Aesileif. We all have known that all of our lives. You are a pathetic excuse of a woman, of a fae princess.”

“Stop it,” Vidar snarled, stepping forward. His shadows writhed on his hands and there was a cold cruelty in his eyes that told Kolfinna that he was contemplating ending Elin right then and there.

But Aesileif only held her sister’s hand tighter. “I am sorry, Elin. I can never … I can never be good enough for you?—”

“You will never be good enough for anybody,” her sister said, coughing up more blood. “But you are all that is left. Have a powerful heir, Aesileif, and save this empire. That is all you can do. Bear a powerful heir.”

“I am with child right now,” she said, sobbing.

“Whose—” Her gaze flicked to Vidar, and the realization dawned on her. “Ah. Your child will be tainted with elf blood.”

Vidar’s hands fisted, the muscles on his jaw clenching.

“But it’s perfect, really,” Elin continued. Relief washed over her fading eyes. “He is powerful, so your child will be powerful, too. Perfect. Now we can rest our future on your heir.”

And then she was gone. Her eyes became glassy. Lifeless.

Another scream tore from Aesileif and she curled over Elin’s body.

Vidar knelt beside her, his hand on her shoulder as she wept.

His face was bathed in blood, making his eyes appear all the more murderous.

When he peered down at Elin’s body, a look of pure revulsion, pure loathing, seemed to consume him.

Their bodies slowly began to fade until Blár and Kolfinna were the only ones left in the blood-stained throne room. Kolfinna didn’t even realize she was trembling, her cheeks wet, until Blár wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

She bit her lower lip to keep from crying.

She shouldn’t have mourned any of them, but …

but something cracked within her at seeing all of this.

Even if it wasn’t real, even if … this was all a lie, she couldn’t help the bitterness, the sorrow, that ate away at her.

It was too gruesome, all of it. Too heartbreaking. Too … much.

These were her parents. Her grandparents. Her aunt. Her people .

“We have to move forward,” Blár said quietly, nudging her toward the exit.

She followed him numbly. She could feel the darkness swirling in the background, and so they both hurried to find the black door. The whole time, her mind spun and replayed the devastating screams, the blasts of light that had torn through Vidar, the haunting, cruel last words Elin had said.

When they found the arched black door, the shadows had only just begun to descend. They both entered through into the next vision, slamming the door shut behind them.