Page 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

TANYL

M y horse nickered softly, its ears twitching.

“Whoa,” I murmured, patting its neck. “It’s just a little bit of magic.”

Leather creaked as Briar shifted in his saddle beside me. He gave the Covenant an assessing look before looking at me. “It’s not exactly little.”

I tugged ever so slightly on my reins, urging my horse sideways so my thigh brushed Briar’s. Leaning into him, I smiled as I said,

“Neither are you.”

The tips of his ears went pink—a trait that was rapidly becoming my favorite thing about his transformation.

“We have sixty men at our backs,” Briar said under his breath.

On my other side, Sylvie made a soft sound. “Stop tormenting Briar. We have a battle to win.”

Guilt flooded me, and I shifted closer to her so I could touch her cheek. “You’re right.” And if things went as planned, her brother would be dead before sunset.

She nodded, understanding in her eyes. Skycleaver rested on her hip. The sword looked far better in her hands than it ever had in Cripin’s.

“I love you,” I told her, a lump forming in my throat. Or maybe it was anxiety. Sylvie had proven herself in battle more than once. I didn’t doubt her, but I still worried. And maybe I always would. But I wouldn’t stand in her way.

The Covenant shimmered a dozen paces ahead, its glittering blue light spilling over the stretch of grass between Vetra and Spring. The Perun River roared to our left. Swollen high with meltwater, it flirted with the edges of its banks.

We’d taken the journey from Mistport in stages, stopping to provision horses, weapons, and supplies. I owed a long list of merchants money, but I had a proper army.

Crispin was going to regret stealing my throne. Then he was going to die.

“Ready?” I asked, swiveling my gaze between Sylvie and Briar. They both nodded, and I lifted a hand and motioned the Rivven forward.

We started at a trot, then broke into a gallop. Then we charged, crossing through the barrier.

Magic flooded my veins, and a laugh caught in my throat. Power tingled on my lips. It sparkled on my fingertips, lightning hovering at the ready. Use me , it whispered.

I will.

The landscape opened before us—rolling hills threaded with shimmering rivers. We leapt streams and creeks, our horse’s hooves splashing in the wetlands that dotted the Spring Court. The wind picked up, and I smiled, Thara’s devotion whispering through my mind. When I returned to Storm’s Hollow, maybe I’d visit the temple. I couldn’t promise I’d always say every Hour. It was a lot of praying. But I would try.

We rode toward home, miles flowing behind us. But when we crested the next hill, something stood in our way.

Knights on horseback. Fluttering Banners. Silver banners. Crispin had brought the battle to me.

Tugging on the reins, I pulled my horse to a halt.

“He’s been waiting for us,” Sylvie said, getting her own horse under control.

“Good,” I said, drawing my sword. “Let’s not disappoint him.”

Briar barked orders, and the Rivven assembled on either side of us. They moved with admirable precision, their armor sparkling and their eyes trained on the enemy. Quiet menace rolled off them. Not for the first time, a shiver went down my spine.

Crispin spurred his horse forward, galloping from his line of men. His silver armor sparkled in the evening sunlight. Bareheaded, he smirked as he stopped his horse halfway between our armies.

“You survived,” he called, his voice carrying across the distance. He flicked his blue-green gaze to Sylvie, and his mouth tightened. It tightened further when he dipped his gaze to Skycleaver’s hilt on her hip.

She met his gaze unflinchingly, her spine straight and her hands resting on her pommel, the reins loose between her fingers.

“I'm surprised to see you, Sister,” Crispin continued. “I thought Tanyl would kill you for your treachery. But it appears you’ve squirmed back into his good graces.” He pretended to consider it. “I supposed that’s not a surprise. You’ve always been a whore.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her smile. “And you’ve always been a cunt,” she called back.

Crispin hid his reaction, but not quickly enough. He was nervous, his shoulders tense. His horse danced under him, and it took him a moment to get the beast under control. Contempt twisted his mouth as he raked his gaze over the Rivven.

“I see you’ve brought the pride of Vetra with you.”

“They’re not of Vetra,” Briar said, his deep voice carrying. “My brothers are the pride of Perun, and they’ve come to dispense his justice.”

Crispin paled.

“Surrender now,” I said, “and I’ll be merciful.” I’d mercifully cut his head off, but I’d be quick about it.

“ I am the king now,” he snarled. “The Scarrok are gone. I fulfilled the prophecy.”

“No,” Sylvie said. “Tanyl did that. The king bled and put the rivers to rest.”

Crispin’s face contorted with rage. “Traitor! You were supposed to let him die!” Spit flew from his lips as his face turned red. “That’s what Silas and I agreed upon! You were going to set the prophecy in motion and take the blame for Tanyl’s death. And then I could finally be rid of you both!”

The admission hung in the air, damning and final. Behind him, his knights exchanged uneasy glances.

“Attack!” Crispin screamed, drawing his sword and charging.

I met him halfway, our blades clashing in a shower of sparks. Around us, men collided, but I only had eyes for my usurper. His sword glanced off my armor as I parried his strikes. He was skilled—I’d trained with him often enough to know his capabilities—but rage made him sloppy.

And I had more magic.

Lightning flowed through my sword as I pressed my advantage. Nearby, Briar cut a path through Crispin’s forces, his movements fluid and deadly. And there was Sylvie, wielding Skycleaver as if she’d done it her whole life, lighting streaking from her blade and slamming into knights.

One man toppled from his horse. He scrambled to his knees and yanked his helmet off. “I yield! I serve the rightful King of Spring!”

Around me, other men stopped fighting. They swung from their horses, threw their weapons down, and went to one knee.

“And I!” one cried. “I serve King Tanyl Glyneven, the true King of Spring!”

Crispin whirled his horse, his eyes wide with fear. “Fight, you cowards! Fight for your king!”

“We are!” shouted one of the captains who knelt in the grass. He pointed at me. “Tanyl is our king!”

The tide turned in an instant. The rest of Crispin’s men dismounted. Flinging their swords to the ground, they knelt and bowed their heads.

I dismounted. Patting my horse’s flank, I sent it trotting to the rear. Then I smiled at Crispin. “Ready when you are.”

With a roar of frustration, he charged me, his sword raised high.

I sidestepped his attack and struck his leg with the flat of my blade. His horse reared, and Crispin tumbled to the ground in an ungraceful heap.

“It’s over,” I said, standing over him.

“Never,” he spat, blood running from his lip. “Spring will never accept a weak king who consorts with human priests.”

Briar appeared beside me, his brow furrowed as he planted the tip of his sword in the grass and rested his hands on the hilt. “Now, that’s not very nice.”

Oh gods, I’d rubbed off on him. It was either going to prove delightful or terribly vexing. Maybe a bit of both.

“Sir Briar is fully elven now,” I told Crispin. “And he’s more of a king than you’ll ever be.”

Crispin glared, but his pulse pumped rapidly in his throat.

I turned and found Sylvie. “My queen,” I said, extending my hand. She came to me, and I kissed her knuckles. “He’s your brother,” I added quietly. “The judgment is yours.”

Her fingers trembled in mine, but only for a moment. She gave a quick nod, and I stepped back. Briar eased back with me, leaving her alone with Crispin.

“You used me,” she told him. “You manipulated my faith, my trust, and my love for our mother. But your biggest crime is the one you didn’t get away with. You would have aided Silas to continue the cycle of suffering. You knew the Rivven created the Scarrok. You would have stood by and let Silas do it again.”

“But I didn’t,” Crispin said, a pleading note entering his voice. “You said it yourself. Silas didn’t get a chance to perform the rite.”

Sylvie gave him a sad smile. She lifted her wrist, showing him the chain woven through her sigils. “I always wanted to be a sestra. I know our faith better than most. And the faith is very clear about this sort of thing, Crispin. Intention is the same as the deed.”

She moved as fast as her lightning, slashing Skycleaver down and taking his head before he could speak another word. A wet thud echoed through the field. The wind stilled. No one moved or spoke.

Blood soaked the ground. Sylvie stood motionless, her gaze on Crispin’s body.

I went to her and took Skycleaver gently from her hand. Briar came to her other side and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, pressing my lips to her temple. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

“The brother I loved died a long time ago,” she whispered. “His ambition consumed him.”

Briar pulled her closer. “You were brave. You did the right thing.”

She nodded, and her eyes were dry when looked at me…and then Briar. A breeze stirred her hair, and she smiled. “Let’s go home, my kings.”