"Levi, don't do this," I say. My voice wavers, my legs shake. "I need to get back to Fen. He's dying."
"Because of you! All of this, all of this blood and death… it's because of you."
I don't know what else to do, so I run. I run down the hall and turn the corner—
I crash into a man's arms. He holds me upright.
Levi turns the corner and halts, gazing past me.
I look up.
And see Ace.
He moves forward, putting his body between me and Levi, his brown cloak scraping the floor. He is pale, weak, and walks with a cane. Tools clang on his belt with every step.
"Brother, what is this?" he asks.
"Ace, let me through," Levi says. "She is High Fae. She deceived us. Just look at her hair, her ears. You know what must be done."
"And what of the contract?" Ace asks. "We are as bound by it as she is."
"You nearly died," Levi says. "I thought you would." His voice sounds broken now, small.
Ace puts his hand on Levi's arm. "But I didn't. I am here, alive. And I have come to see how my brothers fare, only to find you trying to kill the princess."
"It is the only way we will survive," Levi says.
"There are always other ways. Have I not taught you that in all these years?" Ace steps back, protecting me with his frail body. "I believe I will be claiming my month with the princess, brother. From now on, she is under my protection. If you wish to kill her…" Ace pauses, staring straight into his brother's yes, "…you must kill me first."
EPILOGUE
Fenris Vane
"There are only flashes left. Only dust I try to grab in the wind. I remember… I remember a palace of white and gold. I remember spires that glow like the sun."
—Asher
Am I awake? Dreaming? Reality is suspended between time and space. I am there. In the nothingness that exists between darkness and light.
The pain is gone. I feel it as but a memory of what once was.
The air no longer smells of blood and metal, of battle and death. Of fire and brimstone.
The sky is blue and clear. The horizon glows with bright light. My body feels ethereal. There is a lightness to my being I have never known.
I walk forward in mist, but my feet do not find purchase on land. Am I floating? Am I dead?
I lost the battle. I left Arianna alone in a world torn by war. I failed her. I failed us. I failed my people. My kingdom.
There is a low growl to my right, and I look down, surprised to see Baron there. The white wolf seems one with the surroundings. I drop my hand to his head and wonder if he is real. Will my hand land on fur and flesh and bone, or will it fall through the illusion like smoke?
But he is there. I feel the heat of him, the silkiness of his fur, the presence of him. I choke up with emotion, and I cannot tell if I am grieving that my dearest friend has died with me, or if I am overcome with relief that I am not alone. Am I selfless or unforgivably selfish?
I am both.
I am neither.
I am nothing.
I keep walking. Floating. Moving forward into more mist and whiteness and otherness.
And then I hear her voice. She is humming a tune I did not know I knew. My soul responds to this music, this lullaby, with a visceral lurch that leaves me breathless.
She appears through the mist. Her wild white hair flies around her like a living thing, entwined with leaves and flowers, her dress falling at her bare feet, clinging to her body like roots and branches, seemingly made of the earth itself. Her eyes are large sapphires splashed against pale skin. She is a goddess. A woodland nymph.
And in my soul, I know who she is. "Mother," I whisper.
She is before me now, her hands reaching out for mine. When I grasp them they are warm, grounded in the earth.
"I have waited so very long to see you again," she says, her voice melodic, soft, full of the echoes of all that has ever been. "To hold you. To know you. But this isn't where you are meant to be."
"I am dead." It's such a strange thought, to be dead after being immortal for more generations than I can remember.
"You are neither dead, nor alive," she says. "You are being reborn."
"So I can go back?" My heart quickens at the thought. I need to go back, but the reasons are fading. The nothingness is stealing me away.
"If you wish," my mother says. "Do you wish it?"
"Arianna. I must go back for Arianna."
My mother smiles. "She needs you, and you need her. But you are more than you imagine yourself to be, my son. You are my heir. My legacy. I have given you everything."
Her words make no sense, and yet I know they are true. My mother died years ago, yes, but this was not her. This was not the woman in the images my brothers showed me. This was not the Queen who ruled hell with my father.