Page 207 of Nine-Tenths

It is also, I recall as I swallow against the claws, sometimes when the protagonistfailsto reach it.

Sometimes the hero tries to save the world and in the end… they don't. They can't. Sometimes they give up. Sometimes they die.

Lieutenant Governor Francis Alibbed Gwilliam Simcoe's hands are around my neck. I am on my tiptoes, straining, onehand on his forearm more for balance than because I have any illusions about my ability to pull his hand away. Chin up, eyes on Dav's.

Poor Dav,I think.It'd destroy him.

If this is to be my climax, if I'm going to perish like a literary hero trying to change the world that I damn well deserve to be, then I'm going to make sure everyone knowswhy.

"What were you planning for my accident, eh?" I hiss. "Another cliff? Paparazzi car chase? How were you going to make it Dav's fault this ti—hurghk."

"I am going torip out your tongue," Simcoe snarls, his hand tightening.

"Murderer!" someone in the gallery shouts, and the chant is picked up first by the Favorites, and then by the dragons. "Poacher!"

"I'm going to kill you, slowly, here and now, so he has to watch," Simcoe hisses against my ear.

The queen raises her hand and the chant stops just in time for everyone to hear me squeeze out: "Dav didn't kill Charlotte! You did, didn't you, Frankie?" I ask, because he seems like the kind of villain who would get off on revealing his dastardly plot. "Come on! Tell us how you did it."

My heart breaks for Dav when Simcoe proves me right.

"Yes! It was me!" Simcoe snarls, eyes rolling, teeth lengthening. "Alva-draig, the great strategist, the tactician so valued by my father, and I out-maneuvered him!"

"The rock wobbled," Dav gasps. "It was solid the week before, but when I stepped onto it—"

Simcoe laughs, high and shrill. "You're sopredictable! It waseasy. I knew where you'd be, that the river was far from civilization—"

"Hey!" I protest on Onatah's behalf.

"All I had to do was wait for you to doexactlywhat I knew you would… it wasn't as clean as I had hoped for, you didn't drown together, but I got to pin it on you anyway. Oh, Alva, if only you'dleft, if only you weren't so foolishlynoble,if only you cared more about your own people and less about thosesavages, we wouldn't have to do all of this all over again."

"Had your father killed, too, I bet," I husk out, reedy and strained. Okay, maybe I'm suicidal, I don't know, but like, fuck, if I'm going to die then I'm going to die making sure Dav knows the truth. "I don't know any dragon that dies of an illness.Survivedhimwell and good, didn't you?"

"Outrage!" someone shouts from the back of the gallery.

"Betrayal!" calls another. "Treachery!"

I suck on another breath, heels kicking fruitlessly against Simcoe's shins. "You branded him a murderer, isolated him, tortured him,for what? You claim to keep Dav at the ready, a sword left in the sheath until it's needed.Swords rust. And when another whetstone came along, you couldn'tstandto lose control. So you marked me."

"You threw me into the frenzy onpurpose?" Dav howls.

Elizabeth Regina rises. Beside her, Leicester unsheathes his blade.

"Release him and explain yourself," the queen commands, voice ringing like a guillotine blade, raising one arm like a sword, pointing a finger like a pistol.

Simcoe quavers and seems to finally realize what he's admitted to. And in front of whom. He drops me to fold his hands earnestly over his heart.

I stumble forward. My dignity already well and truly dead, I use the forward momentum to throw myself at Dav. He catches me, presses his face immediately against mine, licking up my ear to eradicate Simcoe's touch, then at the nick under my chin to clean up the blood.

He's quick and efficient about it.

This isn't the time for a relieved, and lingering reunion. This isn't even the time for another frenzy.

That's not where we are in the story.

This is the climax, remember?

This is where the hero rises to their final challenge.

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