Page 170 of Curse of Darkness
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Swords fall as I turn.
Knees hit the ground.
And heads bow.
Among them all, Thiago stands alone, his eyes filled with pride. He opens his arms, and I walk into them. I curl my arms up under his shoulders, digging my nails into his flesh as I sob.
She’s gone. She’s finally gone.
And I don’t know if it’s relief I feel, or grief, or some weird combination of it.
“You did it,” he whispers, running his leather gloves through my hair. And then he looks up, something dark sliding through his eyes. “And even though her sentence was your choice, I must admit I’m half tempted to get an ax.”
“No. No axes.” Somehow, I summon a deep breath. “Let her have peace now.”
I can see his answer in his eyes—she doesn’t deserve peace.
But there’s a part of me—the part that saw my mother chained and beaten at the Briar King’s throne—that knows she’s as much a victim of herself as all of us have been. Time and time again she made the wrong choices, but they were fueled from a place of desperation and pain. It doesn’t justify them, but I think I finally understand my mother and who she could have been. It’s the reason some part of my heart grieves for her.
The Duke of Thornwood’s boots crunch over the gravel as he slowly walks toward us. There’s snow in his auburn hair now, and hints of it in his beard, but his shoulders are as broad as ever and the black pit of his eyes utterly expressionless.
Slowly, he looks at the tree. “You have claimed Asturia.”
“No.” Evernight is enough. And even though the crown urges me to add more kingdoms to my list, I drown it out. “I am merely keeping it safe for its rightful ruler. My sister will return one day, and when she does, the Throne of Thorns is hers. I will relinquish all claim upon the kingdom of my birth to Andraste, as Evernight relinquishes all claim upon the borderlands.”
Thornwood taps the letter against his thigh.
“Then you have my answer,” he says slowly. “The unseelie are coming. The Horned One is coming. The Asturian army will ride with you to protect Evernight, the border lands, and the Seelie Alliance.”
* * *
Not everyone ishappy with the terms Thornwood agreed upon.
I push inside the dark red tent that’s been set up for the Queen of Ravenal. Her small allotment of troops joined us an hour ago and have been setting up.
Reports came in: Angharad’s army is an hour or two away. The goblins are perhaps the same. Eris and Thiago are in command, but everyone is waiting for Baylor to return. We need Baylor to led his regiment of Black Wolves.
Lucere sits before a basin filled with bloodied bandages and a razor. A hooded cloak covers her from head to toe.
“Where in the Darkness have you been?” she demands, swiveling in her seat. “Did my message not say it was urgent?”
“Everything is urgent,” I remind her.
Something catches my eye.
I reach for her hood, trying to peer beneath it.
“Don’t look at me,” Lucere hisses, yanking the hood of her cloak over her face.
I catch her wrist, shaking my head gently.
And maybe she senses that I don’t seek to mock her, for she lets me slowly slide her hood back.
Tears gleam in her eyes. The skin on her right cheek has grayed and puckered. It almost looks like stone—or the roughened skin of a plucked bird. Creeping down her throat, it runs into soft down.
Black feathers.
