For such a beautiful Faerie, Summer’s soul is black and full of evil. Her darkness knocks me backward as it threatens to leech itself to my soul. But I clench my teeth, growling and fighting with every ounce of strength inside of me until I’ve pushed it away from me. I shove it deep within the core of the Stone and watch as the stone devours it like a tasty snack.
Summer cries out, her face twisted in agony, and for a split-second, I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. She is in pain, suffering inside of this cocoon of light and music and all things good. She can’t handle it. Her body convulses, but I hold fast to the stone. Or maybe it holds fast to me. Either way, the musical spell is working, and the darkness curse is fading away.
“You are not strong enough for this,” Summer growls. She says something else, but the overpowering melody drowns it out.
"Correction," I say as the music pulls us even closer together. I wrap an arm around her waist as if I’ve just finished some grand waltz and am about to sweep her into a show-stopping dip. And in a way, I suppose it is like a dance. A twisted, screwed-up dance. Curses and magic are weird like that. "I am strong, Summer. I am the Queen of the Fae. Auberon is my King. Together we will rule Faerie. Together, we banish you and your soul-sucking curse. You’re done here, Summer.”
My words…my first decree as Fae Queen empowers me. Adrenaline surges through my veins as the last of her blackened soul disappears into the stone.
The music stops on a triumphant chord before it, too, fades off into the ether. I glance up at the sky. For the first time in a very long time, I can see stars. I see the moon, its warmth and light washing over me, thanking me. Tears fill my eyes. It’s over.
I did it.
Summer, or…what’s left of Summer stumbles, struggling to hold herself upright. She pulls and tugs as she tries to release herself from my grasp, but I only tighten my hold on her. I’m not sure what’s supposed to happen next, but she’s fading fast. She tries to speak, her mouth moving as she attempts to form the words. But the only thing that escapes her throat is a small childlike whimper. And then she explodes into a cloud of thick, black smoke that lingers in the air for a moment before it dissipates. My mouth falls open as one by one, her Unseelie soldiers disintegrate and fade away, returning to whatever hell they emerged from.
“You did it,” Atticus says in a weak voice.
“No, we did it,” I correct him.
I turn to face him, only to find he is no longer the same striking, sophisticated gentleman he was only moments ago. He's old and brittle, no longer immortal. He’s not long for this world, and it’s clear the centuries are catching up with him. I rush toward him as he falls to his knees, catching him before he hits the ground.
“Ah, sweet death,” Atticus says, gazing up toward the sky. “How long I have waited for your loving embrace.”
“So dramatic,” I say, laughing as tears spill from my eyes. “You know, I never thought I'd say this, Atticus Drake, but you're a pretty okay guy…as far as evil druids go.”
I do my best to smile through my tears, but my lips tremble so badly, I know I’m not fooling anyone. Atticus chuckles before reaching up to touch my cheek.
"You're pretty okay yourself, Sophia, Kelly," he says, his lips pulling into a thin smile. "But, I think it's time for me to take my leave of this world." He closes his eyes, sighing as his expression grows peaceful. Content. "You know, it's true what they say." He opens his eyes just a sliver to gaze up at me before they flutter closed again. "There really is a light. If anyone ever asks…there…is…” His whisper trails off into nothing.
“Good,” I say. “Let’s just hope the light takes you to the good place.”
He chuckles in response. “Helena is here now. We can finally be together again.”
“Thank you, Atticus,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
He says something indistinguishable as his body relaxes in my arms. Atticus Drake is gone.
19
I rise from the spot I’d been sitting for the past half hour. It’s the same spot where, only two short months ago, Atticus and I had defeated Summer. And it’s the same spot where Atticus had taken his last breaths. He has hopefully found Helena in the spirit world. He can rest in peace now.
At least, I hope you’re at peace, Atticus. Sometimes, I think I can almost hear him chuckling in response to my thoughts.
Colin and The Brotherhood had come out after the battle was over to perform some sort of fancy Druidic rite over his body before taking him away, promising to bury him with only the highest honors. Of course, he refused to tell me anything about those honors.
“Druid stuff,” he’d said with a shrug, his green eyes bright with the familiar vigor he’d had before his own unfortunate near-brush with death.
I’d needed a few days to collect myself after the battle. Once the thrill of the final showdown had passed, a weariness had settled into my bones. And, for whatever reason, I’d drawn some sort of power from the spot where the epic showdown had taken place. Every afternoon, I’d come out to sit in total solitude. Call it meditation, call it healing…whatever it was, I’d needed it. And it must’ve been an obvious need because even Edgar the Raven had given me the space to reflect in the middle of the street. He didn’t ruffle a single feather or offer one squawk of protest.
Business, too, have started to reopen again. People are slowly returning to their lives. They are unifying and proving their resilience as they begin the arduous process of rebuilding Nevermoor.
And just as the town sees hope lingering on the horizon, I, too, have started my own internal rebuilding process. After a long and bittersweet phone call with Greg, I’d gotten the reassurance I needed from him. I can close out the human chapter of my life and start anew. After Chris’s compulsion, he still doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he trusts I’m doing what I need to do and has, in his own way, given me his blessing. I am ready to accept my fate…my destiny. I am a Fae Queen after all, and that’s a pretty big deal.
With a small, contented smile on my face, I take an invigorating breath before rising from my spot. I turn back toward the Academy. Alexander stands with his Royal Fae Guard beside Christoph’s vampires and some fierce, Viking-like druids from The Brotherhood of the Sacred Order. Their stillness is unnerving.
“What in the world is all of this?” I ask, narrowing my eyes as Alexander breaks formation and saunters toward me, arms outstretched, a huge, goofy smile spread across his face. I am still not comfortable with all the pomp and circumstance that comes with being “royal”.
“What?” I ask again as he sweeps me into his arms. “It’s this stupid armor, isn’t it? I don’t understand why I have to wear it today. It’s been two months since the epic battle with Summer.” My cheeks redden as I fidget to adjust the tight leather pants. “God, I knew it was going to ride up and look ridiculous. And all those dudes back there staring at me. Ugh, so embarrassing. I knew someone was watching me. I could sense it—“
“It’s tradition for Fae royalty to wear their armor after a battle. I told you, my love. As for this?” He waves a hand toward the wall of supernaturals. “This is to signify an alliance between our factions,” he says, projecting his voice so that there isn’t a single person in Nevermoor who can’t hear him. “We will work together in peaceful harmony to prevent darkness from ever again disrupting the balance of this world.” He turns to me and grins. “I have a speech all prepared that I will present after dinner.”
“Oo-oo-f course you do,” I mutter. “But back to this whole armor-situation. Do I really need to wear it? It’s tighter and more uncomfortable than it did last time I wore it. I haven’t gained that much weight. Have I?” I stare down at myself. “And it’s leather, Alexander. Do you have any idea how uncomfortable this is going to get after I have…what…a turkey leg and…oh, I don’t know, ale? What are we even having at this feast?” I glance at the Viking-like druids.
He rolls his eyes. “We are not savages, Sophia,”
he says, his upper lip curling into a sneer. “There will be no turkey legs.” He grins at me. “Besides, I’m saving that for your actual coronation in Faerie. There will be ample turkey legs for all.” He waves his hand at this very important proclamation.
“Well, it still makes me feel weird that all of this is being done for…me. I don’t need all of this fancy stuff, Alexander. I thought we were ushering in a new era or something? Less fancy, less…leather…and more practical.”
“Tell that to Jo,” he snorts. “Besides, Sophia, you’ve accomplished something remarkable,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss me. “You rid the world of Summer. You broke the curse of darkness—“
“Yes, the one everyone blamed Atticus Drake for,” I say bitterly.
Alexander frowns. He’s still not comfortable talking about Atticus.
“I realize it’s a couple of months in the making, but you deserve this,” he continues.
“When you say it like that, I feel weird,” I admit. “I’m sure I will have to answer for my crime against the Unseelie. Go to trial and plead my case for killing an Unseelie Princess in some Fae High Court—“
“A court that I would preside over,” Alexander reminds me, kissing the tip of my nose. “Sophia, you have done the Fae and the rest of the world a tremendous service. You did what no one else could do…what no one else was brave enough to do. A lavish feast is the very least we can do.”
“Well, I had help,” I point out. “Atticus…”
Alexander’s face twists, but with a little less disgust than before.
“Yes, yes,” he grumbles. “We had Atticus Drake pegged wrong all along. I get it.” He waves a hand, signaling his desire to end the conversation. “Now, come, my love. Let’s go back inside. Your adoring subjects await your arrival.”
“I have adoring subjects?” I ask, nestling myself against him as we walk back toward the Academy. “At ease, gentlemen,” I say to the soldiers who bow as I pass.
“Not even crowned yet and already drunk with power, I see?” he moans. “What are we to do?”
My power, though, is no match for Anne, Ruby, and Myra, who waste no time in surrounding me and hitting me from all sides with questions the moment I arrive in the faculty lounge.
“Guys, give Sophia some space,” Sarah orders as she waves her arms around and trying to disentangle the eager witches from me.
“Right. Space. Sorry.” Myra punches Anne in the arm and takes a swipe at Ruby. “Space, Anne, Ruby. Jeez. Move and let her through.”
“Sorry.” Anne grumbles as she takes Alexander by the arm, shooing him out of the way. His face falls, and he looks hurt. Alexander Faust is not used to being discarded and shooed away. Anne and Ruby lead me toward the elaborate feast spread out across a huge dining table in the center of the room.
“No longer the star of the show, are you?” I murmur, arcing an eyebrow as he seats himself beside me.
Alexander glances toward Anne and Ruby, who are now chattering amongst themselves about the post-feast festivities.
“Doesn’t bother me in the slightest, my queen,” he says, looking back at me and bowing his head.
“Puh-lease.” I roll my eyes.
The feast itself is nothing short of amazing. It’s a multi-course meal that spans over several hours. And after stuffing myself silly with food and drink, It’s been a long time since I’ve had this much fun. All my nearest and dearest friends are present, except for Esmeralda who had gotten caught up with something at her bookshop in California. Jo, too, is missing, much to my surprise. It seems strange for someone who loves attending parties. Jo Stanford loves to make a grand entrance, but she’s more than fashionably late at this point.
“Do you think she’s okay?” I ask Alexander once the feast has ended and we’re all seated around a roaring fire, sipping coffee and enjoying a fantastic spread of desserts.
“I’m sure she’s fine. You know how she is,” Alexander says, but I can’t ignore the worried, far-off look in his eyes.
I nod, turning my attention to Anne and Ruby who gesture with their hands as they recount stories about what life was like at the Academy before I showed up. Myra and Sarah are more subdued, but still engage in their own boisterous conversation. Even Chris, who sits to my left, is trying. He is engaged in small-talk with Colin, whose cheerful Irish lilt rings out over the bubbly Top 40 playlist Ruby and Anne selected for the evening.
“Promise me something, Chris,” I say, once Colin rises from his seat in search of more booze and more stimulating conversation. Chris sets aside the dessert he’s been picking at and turns to me. “Promise you’ll help Anne expand her musical…knowledge.”
He arcs an eyebrow. “She won’t budge,” he says. “She says it’s fun music.” He makes air-quotes around ‘fun’, but I can’t help but notice the loving expression that floats across his face.
“Since I am queen now, perhaps I can command it. Maybe decree it. We strictly prohibit the use of Top 40 music…something like that?” I shrug.
“Your first official order as Queen?” Chris asks with a tight smile.
“I’m glad you two got together.” He rolls his eyes, shifting a little in his seat. “No, I’m serious. You guys seem really happy.”
He dabs at his mouth with his napkin to hide his goofy smile. “We are, Miss Kelly.”
“That is so wonderful,” I say, feeling all warm and fuzzy. “I truly think—“
“Well, it took a lot longer than I thought and required some sleuthing I never thought I could manage, but I’ve got him, honey.”
Jo pops into the middle of the room with none other than Horace the Traitor at her side. She’s bound his wrists and ankles in tight chains and seems to take great pleasure in leading him toward us like he’s prized livestock.
“Jo!” I exclaim. I can’t look at Horace. Just the sight of him makes me sick, and I refuse to acknowledge his presence right now.
“Well!” Alexander says, clapping his hands together. “Mission accomplished, Stanford. Nice work.” He rises from his seat and studies her for a moment. “I should put you in charge of my bounty hunters. They need a woman who can whip them into shape.”
Jo blushes. “Any attack on my queen is an attack on me. I would not stop until I found him…and, well…here he is!”
“Wait, you sent Jo after Horace?” I hiss. “Alone? She could’ve been killed.” Jo looks offended by this.
“But she wasn’t,” Alexander says, flashing a mischievous smile before leaning in to kiss my cheek.
“Well, thanks a lot for filling me in on the plan…I was worried sick about her.”
“You’ve been through enough, my love. Besides, Jo insisted on finding him herself. And you know how she can be.”
“Take him, Alexander,” she commands. “Do with him what you will, but I need a drink.”
She takes Alexander’s seat on the couch next to me, zaps a bottle of French champagne along with a tray of coupes onto the coffee table in front of us. And then, without hesitating, she reaches for the biggest slice of cake.
Horace, still bound, kneels before Alexander as the rest of us grow quiet, eager to see what will happen next.
“I would first like to ask for forgiveness,” he says, his voice trembling as he peers up at the Fae King through weary, bloodshot eyes. “Forgive me for going against you, my King and for my interference in the lightbinding ceremonies.” To my surprise, his eyes fill with tears. “I made a terrible mistake.” He pauses. “I almost killed you.” He fixes his eyes on my face as if there’s any question as to whom he’s referring to. “I allowed Summer to persuade me, without realizing that she only meant to do harm to the realm and to the two of you.” He looks between Alexander and me. “I should have offered my help, and instead I hindered you. I made things worse rather than better. Lives were lost because of this…my…misjudgment.” He pauses again and takes a deep breath. “I understand that I must be punished. So, I am here to meet my fate.”
Alexander’
s expression hardens as he considers Horace’s words. “Yes, Horace. You attempted to kill my queen. You meddled in royal affairs, which, as you know, is treason… grounds for execution.” He presses his lips together, his face stern, and his eyes blazing. “You know the rules. And you deliberately broke them by deceiving and causing harm.”
Horace sniffles, nodding as his tears flow, leaving little rivulets in the blood and dirt that’s caked on his impish face.
“What...what will you do?” he stammers. “A-and…please understand that I only wish to continue serving you…a-and my Queen, if I may.”
“Continue?” Jo snorts. “Were you ever serving anyone but yourself, Horace?”
Alexander ignores her and turns his eyes upward, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he decides Horace’s fate. He may have tried to kill me, but aside from that minor setback, he’d been a loyal advisor to Alexander for centuries. To dole out a death sentence, or even a punishment has to be difficult.
“Lop off his head,” Jo growls, holding up her overflowing coupe before taking a sip of champagne.
Myra snickers.
“Thank you for your gruesome suggestion, Jo,” Alexander says, fighting back a smile. “But I’ve seen enough blood shed these past few months to last me more than a few lifetimes.”
“But…it was high treason,” Jo says, her face falling with disappointment.
“Execution isn’t always the answer.” Alexander looks at me, and I nod in agreement. As much as I’d enjoy seeing Horace’s severed head go flying, Alexander is right. Executing the guilt-stricken faerie is not the answer. Like Atticus, Horace had been under Summer’s control.
“I would be remiss not to use this as an opportunity for rebirth, Horace. A new life and a new beginning for you.” He lowers his gaze, fixing it on the traitorous British Faerie who still kneels at his feet, trembling with fear. But Alexander only smiles, the wheels of his mind turning with possibilities. “Yes. Yes…I think you may still have some use to me. You can be my eyes and ears, as you always have. But you will—“ He stops, interrupted by Rudolph as he tears through the library, tail puffed up like a bristle brush and ears flattened against his head. “You will do so in feline form.”
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