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Chapter Twenty-Two

SYLVIE

T anyl couldn’t be dead.

I stumbled as Crispin stood over his body. He flicked blood from his blade, and I started forward again, a sob tearing from my throat. As I raced toward my brother, denial was a rhythm in my mind.

Tanyl isn’t dead.

Tanyl isn’t dead.

And yet, he lay on the ground, his head at a gruesome angle. An impossible angle.

Because it wasn’t attached to his body. Hands grabbed at me. I flung them away.

“Your Grace!” someone shouted. “The Scarrok have fallen!”

Knights stepped into my path.

I ducked around them and kept running. Magic was sluggish under my skin, my power like smoke drifting from a smothered candle. Nausea churned in my gut, and a fierce headache stabbed between my eyes.

Through a gap in the fighting, Crispin mounted his horse, sunlight reflecting off his glittering armor. His knights fanned around him, holding off the knights from Storm’s Hollow as they clamored to reach Tanyl.

“Save the king!” one shouted. A silver knight struck him in the side of the head. Knights from both sides surged forward, a fresh battle breaking out.

Swords clashed. Men’s shouts followed me. But I didn’t stop. Crispin thrust his sword high.

“It’s a new day!” Lightning burst from the tip of Skycleaver and forked into the sky. He turned his head. For a brief moment, our gazes met.

Then he plunged into the battle.

The world slowed to a crawl. My legs were like stone, each step like wading through mud. Men clashed around me. In front of me. Scarrok lay on the ground. I scrambled over them and kept going. Somewhere in my mind, I knew there was significance in the fallen Scarrok. But I’d dwell on it later.

Right now, nothing mattered except reaching Tanyl.

When I finally broke through the crush, I collapsed beside him. Blood soaked the ground. So much blood. Too much. It turned everything black.

Did you see anything, child?

Yes, but not this. Never this.

Tanyl’s head was severed, the stump of his spine exposed. My hands shook as I patted his chest, feeling for a heartbeat I knew I wouldn’t find. More blood soaked his jacket. A hole gaped in the center of his chest.

“No,” I sobbed, tears falling. “No, no, no.”

A hoarse bellow jerked my head up. Knights parted in front of me, revealing Briar tackling Crispin to the ground.

Skycleaver flew from Crispin’s hand and thumped to the ground. Rage contorted Briar’s features as he rained blows on Crispin’s face.

“You fucking traitor!” he cried. Blood sprayed from Crispin’s nose. Around them, knights fought, silver clashing with Spring.

I turned back to Tanyl. “You have to get up,” I said through numb lips. “Tanyl, you have to move.” My hands ached. My fingers were black.

Tears spilled down my cheeks, and I rocked on my knees. Perun forgive me.

But he wouldn’t. I’d caused this. It was all my fault. But it wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

“I’ll kill you!” Briar roared. His voice cut off, and something heavy hit the ground. When I looked up, Briar sprawled on his back steps away. A silver knight swept toward him with murder in his eyes. I opened my mouth to shout a warning when a knight from Storm’s Hollow buried a sword in the silver knight’s gut.

Briar jumped to his feet. The he rounded on me. His eyes were stark as he stumbled forward and fell to his knees on Tanyl’s other side.

Then his eyes landed on my hands. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to mine.

Run. I had to run. But I couldn’t move. My strength was gone, wasted like my magic.

“You can melt stone,” Briar rasped. Knights battled around us, but it was as if we sat in a pocket of grief, Tanyl’s broken body a gruesome bridge connecting us.

Tears scalded my throat. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” I said, slurring my words.

Disbelief filled Briar’s gray eyes. Then his expression went cold. “You melted the River Gate. You let the Scarrok in.”

“I had to,” I whispered. “The gods showed me what to do.”

For a moment, the hatred in his eyes was a living thing. I waited for it to reach out and wrap its fingers around my throat. Then he was on his feet. Before I could react, he yanked me from the ground. The world spun as he slung me over his shoulder—then again, as he lifted Tanyl.

“Don’t!” I cried, and then my breath punched from my lungs as Briar broke into a run. Pain exploded in my ribs.

Briar kept running. The ground changed to wood, and then the world spun a third time. I crashed to the ground, grunting when my shoulder struck wooden planks. My head spun. Vision blurry, I squinted as Briar bent and settled Tanyl on the ground with careful movements. Tanyl’s golden hair fluttered in the wind.

Briar rushed to a giant wheel and began to turn a thick, black lever. Metal groaned, and a gangplank lifted away from the riverbank.

The ship. Briar was stealing it!

“No!” I yelled, struggling to my feet. My hands throbbed, and more nausea surged. I swallowed hard as I lurched forward.

Briar turned the lever faster. The gangplank slammed into place.

“Stop!” I staggered toward him. “Tanyl will rise again. We have to do the rite.”

“Shut up,” Briar snarled, going to the rigging. He unwrapped a thick coil of rope and flung it to the deck. Above it, the sails swelled, fabric snapping.

“What are you doing?” I cried. “We can’t leave Storm’s Hollow.” If we didn’t quarter Tanyl’s body, he would rise. He’d become like my mother. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I shuffled toward Briar. “Stop this!”

“I said shut up!”

The deck beneath my feet lurched. I staggered but managed to stay upright. Tanyl’s body rocked, strands of golden hair fluttering against the wood.

“I won’t let you do this,” I cried, running toward Briar. My head spun, and visions of blood and water filled my head. Past and present swirled. I slammed into something hard. Tears burned my eyes as I pummeled it with my fists.

A snarl filled my ears. My vision cleared. Briar shoved me away from him. Then his hand flew. His palm cracked across my cheek. I went down, landing hard on my side.

He stood over me, his chest heaving.

My hand shook as I wiped blood from my lip. “We h-have to d-do the rite. Please.” More tears burned my throat, and my words turned to babble. “We— We have to— He’ll become?—”

“He’s not dead,” Briar snapped. “His neck isn’t completely severed.”

I froze, confusion and hope warring in my chest. “What?” The world tilted. Not dead.

“A strip of skin remains. Your brother celebrated his coup too quickly.”

The hope bloomed, and I crawled toward Tanyl.

“No, you don’t,” Briar growled, bending and scooping me from the ground. He carried me to one of the masts, plunked me on the deck, and began looping the rope around my body.

Misery swamped me even as hope flickered. “He’s not dead,” I whispered.

“No thanks to you,” Briar bit out. He paused, looking up. “Why?” As soon as he voiced the question, he shook his head. “No. Save your excuses for when we’re away from this cursed place.”

He continued with the rope, not stopping until my arms were pinned to my sides and my back was rigid against the mast. Wood creaked. The sails snapped overhead. The sound of splashing water teased my ears. We were already on the river.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked.

Briar didn’t answer. Just went to Tanyl and lifted him from the ground. He moved carefully, one hand behind Tanyl’s head. Blood splattered the deck as Briar moved toward a sheltered companionway. He descended a set of wooden steps and disappeared.

Dizziness swept me. I rested the back of my head against the mast. The ship rocked, and my stomach did a sickening flip.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

But it had. And I was responsible. But if Tanyl lived…

He would hate me.

I closed my eyes, pain and regret more painful than my burnt hands or the pressure between my eyes. Tanyl would hate me, but he could never hate me more than I hated myself.