Page 52 of The Crown of the Last Fae Queen (The Heartless and the Wicked #4)

“I want to see her again,” Aesileif said through tears. “Kolfinna is waiting for me. Do you know how much she cried when I left her?”

Tension formed around Vidar’s eyes and mouth. “We’ll see her soon, I promise. I will handle this war, Aesileif, and then we can all be together again.”

They embraced again, and Kolfinna’s heart shattered. This was likely the last time they’d ever been together.

Slowly, the image of them both disappeared, along with the fae surrounding them and the sound of the distant screams. Until it was just Blár and her.

What did Vidar mean when he said that Kolfinna wouldn’t be able to handle the power of the crown?

Did Aesileif have an ability that was passed down from fae monarch to fae heir?

Vidar had mentioned that she was sick, too.

Was that why she’d been sealed away? To prevent her from dying prematurely during the war?

“She was always sick,” Blár suddenly said, his voice quiet.

Kolfinna turned to him sharply.

“I think Vidar sealed her away because if she died, then the war would be lost. She was the symbol for the people, and she was weak and dying, and so he had you both sealed away. And I think she sealed herself away because she didn’t want you to have to take the burden of her throne if she died.”

It was something Kolfinna had come to realize as well, but she didn’t want to accept it. It was easier to think that her mother was evil, that she hadn’t wanted her, that she hadn’t thought of her as anything more than a tool to win back her throne.

Her eyes burned and she blinked back the tears.

Suddenly, Blár was in front of her, grasping her chin and tilting her head back so he could stare at her.

“It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to realize that you were loved.

That your parents wanted to protect you and their people.

And it’s okay to realize that the humans have lied, to some extent, about what happened during the time the fae ruled. ”

She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to come to terms with the fact that her life was a lie, that her parents had tried their hardest to protect her and her people. She didn’t want to mourn the life she could have had. But … but something broke within her.

Kolfinna crumpled against Blár and buried her face in his chest. She couldn’t hold back the sobs that wrenched from her body.

The tears ran down freely, dampening his dark tunic.

She held onto him and cried for what her mother had gone through.

She cried for all the fae that had lost their lives at the hands of the humans.

She cried at the cruelty her people had endured.

She cried for Vidar and Aesileif, who had ultimately lost the war.

She had no doubt that the fae had committed cruelties toward the humans, but she couldn’t deny that the humans had done the same to them. And had continued to do the same in the subsequent centuries.

When she had no more tears left, she simply clung to Blár. He brushed his hands through her hair, which had come undone from its braid when they had run across the city.

“Do you really think it’s possible for humans and fae to coexist peacefully?

” The words slipped out of her before she could think better.

She clamped her trembling mouth shut. She could hear the hopelessness in her own voice, the desolation that grew in intensity as she stared at the blood splatters in the snow, the smoke in the sky, or the blazes of fire on the city horizon.

Blár’s arms tightened around her. “I think it’s possible, Kolfinna. If people let go of their hatred, then yes, I think so.”

“It’s more than just hatred,” she whispered.

It was so much more than that. It was the fact that her people had been almost completely wiped out. That the humans had created a world where the fae were continuously hunted down. That her people needed a safe place to live, to thrive.

“We can make it happen,” he said. “We can create peace.”

“Through war.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, through war.”

But which side would allow that coexistence? The peace?

She was now convinced that it wasn’t the humans, but she wasn’t entirely sure if it could be achieved through the fae, either.

They remained that way for a moment, embracing just like Aesileif and Vidar had done, and Kolfinna blinked away the remnants of her tears.

She breathed in his scent, allowing his touch to be all she could think about, until those macabre images faded from her mind.

She focused on him so that she wouldn’t have to think of anything else.

And then, finally, when the clenching of her lungs ceased, and her fear coiling within her slowly unraveled, she pulled back just enough to stare up at his face.

Blár was peering down at her, his dark eyebrows drawn together, the sharp planes of his face cast in shadows. When their gazes met, a slow smile curved his lips. Hope glimmered in his tundra-like eyes. Cold and chilly, and yet there was warmth there.

If there was anyone who could make coexistence happen. Who could forge a way when no one else could … It was him.

They stared at each other for a breath longer, and then her mouth was pressed against his, and his hands circled her waist. She kissed him hungrily.

Passionately. Like they would part soon enough, like they wouldn’t see each other again.

And she clung to his muscular body, winding her arms around his neck and molding her body against his.

She shuddered beneath his cool touch, her eyelids half-mast, her gaze locked on his.

She wanted to be with him forever. She wanted to love him. She wanted all of him.

Because a part of her realized in that moment that their time was limited.

His fingers brushed against her wet cheeks, and he murmured, “Why are you crying, Kolfinna?”

“I love you.” The words choked out of her.

She realized she had never said the words out loud.

But she felt it in her heart. Deep, deep down.

After her sister Katla’s death, she had subconsciously never allowed another person to get that close to her.

But Blár had somehow nestled his way into the deepest depths of her heart, spidering out until there was no way for her to remove his presence.

And that love filled her with hope, but also ruined her.

He froze at those words, his eyes searching hers. When he opened his mouth, she placed a finger on his lips, shaking her head.

“Don’t repeat them.” She smiled, though it came out trembling and forced. “I don’t want to hear them until we are safe. Until we have won this war. Until we live in peace with everyone.”

A crease formed between his brows.

She didn’t want to give herself false hope. She didn’t want to imagine a future with Blár, only to have it lost. If he loved her, if he wanted her as much as she wanted him, then there would be too much on the line for her. Too much to save. Too much to live for her. Too much to fight for.

And it would devastate her if she lost all of that.

So she didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to hear the words and cry for what could have been, because she was slowly coming to the realization that she needed to free her mother.

It went against everything Blár and the humans stood for, but she couldn’t let her mother, Aesileif, rot away like that. Forever locked away from the world. Forever worried about Vidar, about Kolfinna, about her people.

She deserved to be free. She deserved to be here with her husband. She deserved so much more.

It didn’t mean that Kolfinna stood for the fae cause—at least, not completely—but it also didn’t mean she stood for the humans, either.

At least not anymore. Because these visions had shown her the truth that she had been trying to deny for so long.

The humans would kill her entire race if they could.

People like Hilda—people like Harald—would never allow coexistence.

She had been foolish to think that it was possible.

History had shown that the humans had never been kind to the fae, but she had been blinded by her own love toward the humans in her life.

She needed to find a middle ground.

And she needed to find it fast .