Page 32 of Vicious Is My Throne

The entire forest was pockmarked with rot, irregularly shaped spots of black spreading outward. There was no rhyme nor reason to the infection, only that the blight remained mostly to the north as if Corvus could only reach down so far from his lair.

Tempeste was completely overtaken, every white stone, every pristine spire coated in greasy black as if the entire city had been drowned in spent lamp oil. Nothing moved down in those once-vibrant streets, every inch covered in Corvus’s foul corruption.

“What do you think happened to Bexley?” I asked Zor, the wind ripping the words from my mouth so violently he had to lean close to hear me.

“Let’s hope he escaped before the city was overtaken. If he headed south, he might have stood a chance.”

I nodded, grateful for Zor’s arms banded across my waist, for the rumbling purr echoing up through my body as I took in the sheer devastation of the once-beautiful forest.

Corvus wouldn’t stop here.

That vision…According to the blue-eyed boy, Corvus and Gelvira had destroyed half our old world before Vitigis stopped them, costing him his life. Zorander wouldn’t hesitate to make the same sacrifice to keep this world safe, and I tightened my hold on his hand.

And Gattica and Saphrax—Raz and Tristan in this life—had traded their blood to lock the twins away forever and save our old world. We’d imprisoned the twins in the Pit, but only because we were forbidden from killing them.

But we weren’t on Empyrean any longer.

And killing wasn’t forbidden here.

I wouldn’t allow them to destroy this world, and I wouldn’t sacrifice my friends either. We’d have to find some way to rid this world of them without paying that high a price.

Tristan glided through the clouds like a wraith, passing over the circling Reapers, close enough I made out their tattered shadows streaming behind them, then banked right and began his descent toward the palace.

He touched down in a cloud of dust, one that smelled like dirt, no hint of rot of blackness. “This is one of the untouched pockets,” Zor said, lifting me down, my knees wobbling beneath me until I got my bearings. “There are several others to the south that might be worth investigating. Two were around towns or villages.”

“Let’s get settled then decide.” I stared at the cold, imposing façade. The palace was exactly how we’d left it several months ago.

Tristan lifted off in a mad rush of air, leaves billowing in his wake. By the time the air cleared, he was a dot against the sky before the clouds swallowed him up.

Even the mountains around us were mostly untouched, only gray granite and white snow visible as far as I could see. But my beautiful forest, stretching from the foothills to the south, was decaying from the inside out.

Over Tempeste, Soul Reapers still circled. With a jolt of surprise, I realized I’d gotten used to the sight. In fact, I’d have been more worried if there weren’t any Reapers. I wondered what other foul things roamed Tempeste’s streets these days.

“The world is dying. And I can’t do a fucking thing to stop it,” I muttered, heading over to sit on the Wynter Palace’s white marble steps. Zorander stationed himself in front of me, feet apart, knife gripped in one hand as he scanned our bleak surroundings for signs of movement.

“And I hate to admit it, but all this time the Oracle was protecting us by keeping her brother’s corruption contained. The blight, the Reapers, those bugs, all of them were created by Corvus. What other foul things do you think he’s made, waiting to send after us?”

“Impossible to tell.” He dragged his eyes away from the overgrown brambles. “But one thing I know, he’s trying to undo the good you’ve done, Anaria.”

He stiffened as something rustled in the brush, both of us relaxing when a tiny bluebird popped out. “And you’ve done so much good.”

His face softened. “We’ll figure out how to stop him. You aren’t alone, Anaria, not anymore. You have all of us now. And once he and his sister are gone, we’ll rebuild everything he’s destroyed.”

I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “Not if we don’t figure out how to kill them.”

Zor settled beside me, taking my hand and pressing his lips into my palm. “If there is one thing I know after all my years seeing battle and death, it’s everything dies. There’s a way to end them, we just have to find their weakness. What did you and Tavion see when you touched the skulls?”

I went over the vision—twice—while Zor held my hand, his thumb rubbing circles over the spot where his lips had been. “Keystones were everywhere?” Zor finally asked. “Do you think our old world is where they came from originally?”

I shrugged. “They all looked exactly like this one.” I pulled it out of my pocket with my free hand, unwilling to let go of him with my other. “How many exist here? Do you know?”

“Two that I’ve heard of, including that one.” He studied the stone balanced on my palm. “And this really boosts your magic?”

“Yes, like when I used the stone to save you. But I don’t really understand how the magic works, so it mostly just glows.” As if on command, a gentle light pulsed softly at the stone’s core before I slipped it back into my pocket.

Zor skimmed his lips down my cheek, and this time, that featherlight touch sent heat zinging through me. “The palace seems safe enough; we’ll have time to come up with a plan. I want to discuss the possibilities the stone could be used as a weapon. Then decide how to get across the Pale, given everything’s covered in blight.”

“I promised everyone I’d make this world better, Zor, and I’m not keeping my word. I have to stop him. Before I was able to harness the magic of the forest, but…” I loosened my fist from where I’d been gripping the warm stone.

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