Page 221 of A Queen This Fierce and Deadly

Unsurprisingly to anyone who knew my wildcat, Zathrian was working in the castle.

I’d overseen his blood vow. Zathrian would never betray her. Because even if he one day became tempted to harm her, he now couldn’t.

Vynthar appeared from between two trees. He stared at me but didn’t speak. We were currently “feuding,” as Prisca liked to call it. The creature had decided his proper place was napping in her bed.

And I was feeling more than a little territorial.

I showed him my teeth. He snarled back. Both of us turned and went our separate ways.

I found Rythos and Marth sitting by the small pond behind the castle, Piperia leaning against Marth’s shoulder as Sybella watched from a few feet away.

Occasionally, after one of these afternoons with Piperia, Marth would disappear for a while. But most of the time, he would tuck Piperia under his arm and haul her to the stables or into one of the sitting rooms to play with her dolls.

I’d approached quietly enough that they hadn’t sensed me yet. And warmth spread through my chest as Marth threw a stone, skipping it across the water. Piperia was still too young for skipping, but she threw a pebble of her own, clapping her hands and stamping her feet as it splashed.

I sensed movement out of the corner of my eye.

And there he was.

Watching with misty eyes, a half-smile curving his mouth.

Sybella glanced around, and I wondered if some part of her knew he was there. And if she would feel the loss of him when he was truly gone.

Because this was it. I could tell from the joy on Cavis’s face as Rythos tickled Piperia, throwing a ridiculously oversized rock just to make her squeal.

I took a single step closer to Cavis, and his eyes met mine—dreamy once more. “Look after them.”

Lifting his hand in a final wave, he turned, his steps measured as he faded out of sight.

ASINIA

I’d imagined that as soon as the war was over, our lives would be perfect.

No one had warned me that the aftermath would be mired in grief and loss, interspersed with flashes of joy and gratitude that made me want to fall to my knees and weep.

I still woke up in the middle of the night, shaking from nightmares that were too real. So real that Demos occasionally took me outside, so I could feel the wind on my face and remember we had lived through it.

At least, some of us had.

I wasn’t the only one finding it difficult. All of us were coping in our own ways. Vicer had moved in to a small apartment near the dock, needing to spend time alone. I knew he was still processing Stillcrest’s death. Still blaming himself for the attack on the hybrid village.

Prisca rarely slept. I knew Lorian was concerned. But she smiled more than I’d ever seen, and she was already settling into her role as queen.

Demos mourned Telean deeply. For the first few days after we’d arrived, even hearing his aunt’s name had made him stiffen and walk out of whatever room he’d been sitting in.

And then there were the hybrids who had been born in Gromalia or Eprotha. This kingdom might be their heritage, but it was still new. Thankfully, those who had managed to survive Regner’s first invasion knew just how lucky they had been. And the hybrids here had welcomed all our people, ensuring they had everything they needed to start new lives.

But all of us were getting through it together. Just days ago, we’d traveled to the wreckage of our village. The place where this had all begun. Tibris, Demos, Prisca, Vicer, Lorian, and I had been joined by Lina, who finally mourned her grandparents.

And there, we had buried both Natan and Thol. I hadn’t known at the time, but Lorian had used a spark of his power to protect Thol’s body from predators and decomposition. The man known across this continent for his cruelty had given Thol dignity in death and allowed us to say goodbye to him on a clear summer’s day beneath a forest canopy.

Prisca had sat outside the abandoned, derelict husk that had once been her home. She’d found a scrap of material from a dress. A dress often worn by the woman she’d once called Mama. And there, on that broken wooden step, she’d sobbed in Lorian’s arms.

I’d once believed there was nothing heroic about war. Now, I knew it brought out the best and worst in everyone. When I thought about heroes, I thought about Natan and the precious hours he’d given us. I thought about Conreth,saving Prisca’s life. I thought about Telean, fighting in the only way that made sense to her.

I thought about our people risking everything to keep the hybrids hidden in those caves alive.

“Sin.”

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