by Erin Hayes
“That you won’t be fighting.”
Adira stormed across the room, stopping herself when she was so close to Nika that the woman cowered. “What do you mean I won’t be fighting?”
Nika stepped back. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not my place. Now please, we should get you dressed.”
“What about breakfast?” Adira wasn’t hungry, but she needed time. She needed to find a way to talk to Alec and see what he knew, if anything. “Shouldn’t we eat first? I don’t imagine I’ll be eating in that dress.”
“Of course you won’t. We didn’t have time for breakfast with the last minute preparations, but if you like, I can have a guard fetch something from the kitchen to bring up for you.”
Adira waved her off. “Forget it. I’ve gone without food before. I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re sure—”
“I’m sure. All I want is to speak with the Regent. Can you tell him I requested his presence?”
“I don’t think—”
“Is that how you treat your future Queen? You expect I not even be able to speak to my husband-to-be?”
“It’s bad luck for a groom to see the bride on their wedding day.”
Adira rolled her eyes. “I suspect the Regent won’t be happy to learn that his maids are deciding for him what messages will and won’t be relayed.”
Nika raised both of her hands as if to calm Adira. “Yes, of course, you’re right. We’ll get you ready after you speak with him, then. That is, if he wants to speak with you.”
Adira crossed her arms and glared at the woman until she turned and left the room. Then she turned back to the window and the city in the distance below. The rising sun cast the world in a golden glow that was far too beautiful for the reality of their existence. On the far horizon, a crowded forest of shadows and a distant sky heavy with storm clouds told the truth.
This was a broken world. Were all the sectors this far gone from what stories said the world used to be? They were all trapped here—Adira worst of all. Perhaps she’d been too unforgiving of the people. They were afraid. They clung to hope, however dark the path was that they believed would lead them to a safer future. They were products of the times they lived in.
Maybe they could change. Adira had. Maybe if she did this, as awful as the Regent was, maybe it would be enough to bring back humanity in Sector One.
Sacrifice.
Alec had been the one to make her realize the important of her existence. He’d been the one to make her realize she was strong enough, that her magic was potent enough, that she didn’t need to fear being who she was meant to be.
These last few days, up until the Regent found her, had been some of the best of her life. She was no longer the scared, alone, insecure girl that she used to be. In the end, she didn’t get Alec, but she did get a better version of herself and a family of friends from Miss Balek’s home that she still needed to get set free.
This was her future. What will be, will be.
By the time the Regent arrived, Adira hardly cared anymore to ask him the questions she had originally called him up to answer. She stood at the foot of the bed, her posture the best it’d ever been, helping her reach her full height—which had never been much beside Alec but nearly put her even with Dvorak.
Adira didn’t give the Regent a chance to speak. As soon as he stepped into the room, she folded her hands in front of her and tilted up her chin. “If we’re to be wed, then I should say that will make us partners. There are a few things, then, that I would like to address.”
At first, Dvorak’s face pinched in, his eyebrows pulling together low over his dark gaze. But then, a wide smile broke across his lips, as though Adira’s sentiment amused him.
“While I’m sure you have some entertaining ideas to share, I’m afraid you don’t really grasp the situation,” he said. “I’m not marrying you because I care about what you think. Frankly, I don’t give a shit about your ideas. You’ve got one purpose to serve, same as the Queens before you, and if you fail, you will be exiled as they were as well.”
Adira clicked her tongue, unwavering in the face of his assholery. “Oh, please,” she said, shaking her head. “Let’s face it. You’re not having me face the Ravager because you already know my strength. You’ve got me shackled”—she raised her wrist, revealing the metal cuff piercing into her skin—“because you’re afraid of me. You know my magic is stronger than yours. Releasing me to fight the Ravager would, what, put you at right?” She grinned. “So, if you really care about this Sector the way you claim, you will accommodate me, and we will work together to make things great again.”
To this, the Regent laughed. Then he stalked closer to her and lowered his voice to a menacing growl. “You think I care about the Sector?” His breath hit her face, warming her cheeks with his foul words. “The people—they’re idiots, and I know you’ve thought as much as I have, if not more, that they deserve those walls to come down. They are lucky I care about myself enough to keep them up!”
Adira scowled at Dvorak. “Do you even hear yourself? If all you care about is yourself, then what good is it marrying me? What good is an heir? Surely you care about someone.”
Dvorak stepped back, staring down his nose at her. “And why is that? Tell me, why should I care about these people? After all, they only care about me because of what I can do for them. So then, is it so wrong that my feelings are mutual?”
His words were a punch to Adira’s gut. This was the man that taught Alec about sacrifice? No. This was the man who manipulated Alec’s selflessness to serve himself.
The Regent didn’t wait for Adira to reply. “I need an heir to keep the people at peace, and I need your magic to keep their support. But don’t confuse things. I don’t need you. Just your womb. That is all it will take to secure my own position until my time is up.”
Adira scoffed. “You can’t possibly think you’ll get me pregnant. You’re sterile, you idiot! Why do you think none of the other Queens were able to produce an heir? Because you’re the problem. Not them!”
Dvorak grabbed her by her arm and dug his fingers into her flesh. “Careful,” he whispered. “Would be a shame for you to die during childbirth.”
She yanked her arm free and glared at him. “Is that a threat?”
The Regent smoothed his hands over his lapels. “A threat? Why should it be? At least you would die with nobility. A legend. It’s certainly more than you deserve after hiding all these years.”
He turned to walk away, but paused by the door. “You know, Adira,” he said without looking back, “you ought to think about how you conduct yourself in my presence. You’ve only managed to evade facing the Ravager because I know you can control the runes. Should you end up exiled, why, I wouldn’t be able to remove your cuffs. It would be a danger to the Sector. I’m sure you can understand.”
And with that, he left, leaving a very clear warning looming over Adira: if she didn’t play along—and successfully—she would indeed one day face the Ravagers.
Without the magic she needed to protect herself.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The guards collected Alec. Marched him out into the dawn. In solemn silence, Regent Dvorak led the way through the woods. The sympathy of Alec’s comrades were palpable in the overcast, dewy morning. This was his funeral. As he walked, he kept his head held high. He would die a disgrace to his Sector, but with honor in his heart.
But with the weight of each step, his stomach tightened and his heart pounded faster. A man never really knows their capacity for fear until faced with death. It took every bit of Alec’s willpower to force himself forward.
Alec had never faced the Ravagers without the enchanted sword. They would devour him. Perhaps it was what he deserved. Perhaps finally he would atone for all the lives that had been ripped apart by the Ravagers while he stood idly by. All in the name of a false tradition.
Even now he seethed at the thought.
At least he could di
e without regret. Die knowing he had done everything to right his wrongs, to save the love of his life. Now the future of the Sector would be in Adira’s hands alone, and the hardest part of that realization was admitting to himself that she would do fine without him. He could have left well enough alone. But then what kind of man would he have been? Alive, but a coward.
No, in his heart he had stood by Adira to the end.
When they reached the outskirts, the procession stopped. Alec’s boots sank against the muddy terrain, and the dank forest atmosphere breathed a chill across his shoulders and back. Beyond the invisible walls of the Sector, shadows shifted between the trees. Regent Dvorak’s hand balled into a fist his side.
Where was his speech? His scathing address?
Instead, the Regent slowly turned to face Alec, his expression forlorn. “I’m sorry it has to be this way,” he said, his voice lacking its intensity that usually accompanied an exile. “You were the son I never had.”
Some father. Dvorak didn’t know anything about being a father, and probably never would. Alec’s real father came to mind: a hard-working man who do anything for his family. A man who was not above the jobs most men would snub their noses at. That was why Alec needed to keep his head high right now—why he would not plead with Dvorak. His family name would always carry its honor, even if Alec died a traitor.
He clenched his jaw. “Do what you must.”
Dvorak nodded, his gaze distant and noncommittal. He swallowed and tilted his chin up. “Alec Kladivo, for the crime of treason, you are sentenced to banishment.”
The guards pushed him forward, but he shook them off and stepped forward of his own accord. This was it. Everything he had fought for, everything he had sacrificed, and this was how it would end. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to warn Adira. To say goodbye.
The Regent turned to face his audience, and Alec scowled at the back of his head. To think, he’d actually looked up to this man. Admired him. And in the end, Alec had been nothing more to him than a pawn in a sick and dangerous game.
Normally the entire city would attend an exile, but instead, only Dvorak’s most trusted guardsmen and Alec’s comrades were present. All except Constantine. Perhaps Dvorak knew that he didn’t own every witch hunter in the sector.
The Regent clearly didn’t want his usual spectacle, and that one small choice revealed that somewhere inside Dvorak was a shred of decency. Dvorak did not want this. Not for Alec.
But in the face of things, that meant too little to change anything.
Or perhaps Alec was giving the Regent too much credit. Perhaps he simply didn’t want the Sector to know he’d been wrong—that even his most trusted guard had gone against him.
Thudding footsteps and the shushing of leaves broke the silence. Heads turned, and Alec’s gaze followed. Adira. She was running right for them, barefoot and in her wedding gown.
Don’t.
The word was a scream in his head, but he couldn’t move his lips to speak. Only watch with his gut twisted and prickling dread immobilizing him as she sped toward them.
When Adira reached them, the guards created a barrier, stopping her from breaking through. She reached between their bodies for Alec, bent over the guards’ arms. “Dvorak! Don’t do this!”
One of the guards grabbed her by the arm and started to pull her toward the castle, but Dvorak raised his hand. “It’s okay,” he said. “Let her go.”
The guard’s brow furrowed as he returned the Regent’s gaze, but he let her go, and she ran to Alec, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her teary face to his shoulder.
“What happened?” she whispered. Her hair smelled like cherries, and he inhaled deeply, committing the scent to memory for what little time on this planet he had left.
So badly he wanted to wrap her in his embrace. But that would only make things harder for her.
This was not how it was supposed to end. They were supposed to overcome the Regent. Maybe start their own family.
His throat tightened. He’d never let his thoughts go there before, and now was not the time to start. “Go back, Adira,” he ordered. “Return to the castle, and don’t look back.”
“No.” She grasped him tighter. “I’m not letting you go. He’ll have to banish me, too.”
Alec reached up to her arms and pulled them from his neck to hold her at a short distance. He dipped his forehead down to rest against hers. “You know that won’t fix anything. This is my fate. You need to stay and face yours.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“You can,” Alec said, his throat closing in. “You will. And you’ll face it your way.”
He hoped she caught his meaning. He couldn’t exactly spell it out for her with their current audience.
“But you don’t understand,” she started. “Dvorak—”
“Enough!” the Regent cut in. “Say goodbye, Alec.”
His heart dropped. Please don’t let her go through with marrying him. Please let her find another way. He bit back all the emotions, knowing that she wouldn’t live to make those decisions if the Regent got angry now.
When Adira opened her mouth to speak again, Alec lifted his finger to her lips, shaking her head. “Goodbye, Adira. You need to go now.”
Then he slipped his hands from hers and turned back to face the outlands. She reached for him, but he felt her being ripped away. He didn’t look back.
“Alec!” she screamed. “Dvorak plans to…mmm…let me…mmm! Mmm!”
One of the guards was silencing her.
He swallowed past the ache in his chest. Whatever it was she wanted to say, Dvorak didn’t want Alec to know. And if that was the case, Alec didn’t want to know, either; revealing Dvorak’s plans would only get Adira in more trouble. He needed to end this.
He stepped out into the outlands. A step that felt like any other step, except for the icy fear blasting against his skin with the knowledge that, on this side of the boundary, certain death awaited.
The foliage rustled. The wind carried hisses like a whispering siren of the approaching Ravagers. Alec stood firm. He would not run, if for no other reason than there was nowhere to run to. Without his sword, he was as good as dead, but he didn’t plan to stop fighting. Not now.
The first of the Ravagers sifted out from between the trees. Opened its razor-tooth-filled mouth as if to taste the air. As if its slithering tongue could make up for the lack of eyes and nose.
It paused, titling its head, slowing turning its blank gray face toward to Alec.
Alec braced himself. The beast wouldn’t be alone. The outskirts were always teeming with Ravagers. They always stayed close by, waiting for the barrier to come down or a life to be cast out into their lands.
And yet, they could go years without feeding. Even the one encroaching on Alec now was little more than foggy, translucent skin wrapped against its ribs. By time the first Ravager was halfway to Alec, two more had appeared along the tree lines.
Alec swallowed, squeezing his hands into fists as he restrained his desire to turn and run.
Don’t run. Never run. Not from anything.
That was what his real father had taught him.
If Alec had any chance at surviving this, it would be to face the Ravagers. To prove to himself that he could live among them, could kill them without magic. That banishment would not be a death sentence for him.
When the first Ravager had crept close enough, it pounced, and Alec fought back with swinging fists to the side of its head and strong kicks to its abdomen to send it flying back. All he needed to do was fight off the ones nearby. Kill them first, then find a place to hide. Create his own barrier of protection. Some way to guard himself.
Until…until when? Until Adira came for him?
The Ravager’s teeth sliced through his arm, and he tensed against the pain. Now was not the time for him to question why he was fighting. He just needed to stay alive long enough to figure something else out.
Anothe
r hard kick sent the beast flying back long enough for Alec to steal a glance over his shoulder.
The guards, the Regent, Adira…all still watched.
Dvorak planned to make sure the exile did its job, which meant Alec would have to go deeper into the forest. He needed to get out of the Regent’s line of sight. Get to where Dvorak could assume him dead.
And if he really did die in the process, he needed to be where Adira wouldn’t see it happen. She wasn’t holding up well to this display. Her eyes widened with fright and glazed over with tears. One of the guards still restrained her with an arm hooked around her waist and a hand clamped over her mouth. Only her muffled cries could be heard over the sloshing mouths of the Ravagers. She kicked the guard and twisted in his grasp, but there was no way she would overpower him without magic.
Alec tore his gaze from Adira’s tearful face as the previously discarded Ravager lunged at him again with a haunting, human-like shriek. Alec gritted his teeth, cursing himself for the distraction, and swung again. But instead of connecting his fist with the Ravager’s body, the Ravager’s mouth closed over his shoulder, sinking teeth into his flesh, deep into the muscular tissue.
Sharp pain erupted, but he bit back a scream. He slammed his fist into the side of the creature’s head, but his hit glided off its slimy skin. As the Ravager drove Alec to his knees, a second Ravager came in and swiped at his left side with a yip.
Alec’s lips trembled against the pain. He couldn’t break Adira’s gaze, though. Her expression would haunt him, even in death.
Slipping a hand into his pocket, his fingers grasped at the sundial pendant Adira had given him. If there was any time to see how powerful her charm was, it was now. But Dvorak would never just stand there and let Alec survive. No matter how tormented he was by Alec’s banishment.
Alec pulled the sundial out as a third Ravager closed in on him, blocking Adira from his view. The burning sensation of more teeth in his arm weakened his grasp, and the pendant tumbled from his hands. He lunged forward to grab it, another Ravager behind him hovering over his body.