Page 185 of Vicious Is My Throne

“You convinced even this old, jaded general this fucked-up world was worth saving. That despite everything I’d seen, after all the ugly things I’d done for monsters like Serpens and the Oracle, this world deserved a chance.”

“Even you?” I repeated. “Well, that must have been some speech.”

“Oh, it was.” His eyes danced with seldom-seen humor. “We’re all in this together, princess, and we have places to be. So get on with it, then. Start saving.”

“It’s not that easy.” I pulled away so he couldn’t see my eyes watering. “I don’t have that kind of magic anymore.” I gestured to the drab landscape. “Only Fae magic can heal that damage. I have witch magic, which is more like desolation and doom.”

“Are you sure?” Cosimo asked quietly. “Because when I was healing you, I sensed some dormant power. Buried deep, like it was…waiting.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what happened to the Fae magic, but Gelvira took everything. When she died, the magic just…faded away. If that power still exists, it’s buried beneath an entire mountain.” I gestured around us. “You’d heal these lands faster than the time it would take for you to dig out that cave.”

“Just try, Anaria,” Zorander urged. “What do you have to lose?”

I clenched my hands into fists and looked around us.

Nothing. I had nothing to lose.

Everyone watched me with such expectation on their faces. How many times had I asked for their trust? And now that I had it, I wanted to run and hide so I didn’t fail again.

Cosimo and Zeph looked exhausted, and so did Lyrae. At this rate, we’d never carve out enough land for our people, much less save Caladrius. And freeing this world only to abandon it wasn’t an option.

I knelt, gripped the keystone in one hand, letting that glowing warmth fill me up, then plunged my other hand into the void of dry, sandy soil, the tiny, rough grains working themselves beneath my fingernails as I wiggled my fingers deeper and deeper.

Please. I’m sorry I failed you. I’m sorry Corvus poisoned your trees and your rivers. I want to undo his damage, but I don’t know how. Please show me how to fix this.

Nothing.

Not a single green shoot rose from the desiccation.

I lifted a handful of soil, letting it sift through my fingers. The gritty dirt sounded like rain beating gently on a window as it quietly fell back to earth.

There was no promise here.

No whisper of power, nothing stirring beneath this ruined ground.

Only death.

I dropped the stone into my pocket and pushed up, unable to say a word, my cheeks burning with shame. Raz’s hand immediately settled on my lower back, Tavion, Tristan, and Zor scanning our surroundings as the haze of power faded.

They’d—we’d—been talking about what came next.

About new worlds across the sea where we could start over. Become whomever we chose to be. Build new lives from the ground up.

But how could we leave our old world like this?

I hadn’t agreed to anything, because I could never outrun my failure.

No matter how far I went.

This ruined land was my doing. I was the driving force behind Corvus and the blight, all three realms dying, and untold loss of life, and no matter where I traveled, this would always be my legacy.

“Let’s go,” Cosimo finally said, his voice thick with disappointment. “We can try again tomorrow.”

Loose stone crunched beneath our feet as we descended, turning the steep path treacherous. The soldiers parted way to let us through, some tipping their hats to Zephryn and Cosimo, looking at us curiously.

“I’ll stay.” Lyrae’s voice rang loudly off the rocks. “Until the end of shift. See how much progress we can make before dark.”

“Thank you.” I told her, taking in the deep lines around her mouth, the dark circles beneath her eyes. “For staying. For helping Torin. For everything.”

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