Page 87 of A Curse of Breath and Blood

Gideon cried out in pain, dropping his sword.

Stop. Please!The desperation in his voice filled me with glee.

I tightened the lasso one last time. I wanted him to beg.

Seeing an opportunity, Tharan ran his blade through Gideon’s gut.

He grasped his abdomen, trying desperately to stop the blood, a look of shock plastered across his devilishly handsome face.

Erissa let out a shrill scream, knocking the room to their knees. She scrambled to where Gideon lay, pounding her staff into the floor.

A glowing portal opened.

“You will all pay for this,” she said before pulling Gideon’s lifeless body in and closing it.

Tharan rushed to his father. “No, no, please, no.”His hands fumbled to stop the bleeding.

The king held his son’s face in his hands. “I know we’ve had our differences, Son.” His voice grew fainter with each word. “But I want you to know… you are my greatest achievement.”

Tears welled in Tharan’s verdant eyes as he gripped his father’s wrists. “Father, please. A healer! We need a healer!”

Amolie ran to where the king lay, pulling the dagger from his heart. She plucked a small piece of bark from her skirt, placed it in her mouth, and chewed it vigorously before mashing it into the gaping wound in the king’s chest.

We all held our breaths as she worked.“The wound is deep. The dagger was made to kill gods.”

The king’s breath shallowed as he reached for his son. “It is your time to rule.” With his remaining strength, he placed the crown of antlers on Tharan’s head. “You are the Alder King now.”

“No,” Tharan whispered, holding his father in his arms. “I’m not ready.”

But the king could not hear his pleas.

Hadron, the reaper, appeared. He gave me a knowing smile before lifting the soul from the Alder King’s body, taking it to the land beyond the veil.

No one moved.

An original was dead, and my sister had killed him. If Tharan wanted to kill Baylis, I wouldn’t blame him, but I would die defending her.

Tharan kissed his father’s forehead.

Amolie was beside me then, grabbing my hand. “We need to get Baylis out of here.”

Tharan stood, surveying the bloodied throne room, shaking his head, unable to comprehend his father’s death.

The remaining members of the Hunt fell to their knees before him. No longer was Tharan the Lord of Nothing, but the Alder King.

Tharan’s eyes searched the room for a familiar face, for guidance, but he found none. Swallowing hard, he turned his gaze to his blood-soaked hands as if they held the answers he sought.

A slow clap rang out from the back of the room.

Princess Briar stood with her blue eyes locked on Tharan. “Well done, Brother. I wondered how you were planning to take the throne from me.”

“I do not want this,” Tharan said, his voice little more than a whisper.

“Once the crown is placed, there is no going back. This kingdom is yours.”

She kicked the doors to the great hall open, revealing a forest set ablaze.

“Good luck.” She leaned her head back, cackling like a lunatic, before fading into the shadows.

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