Page 142 of Wrath of the Fae Queen
“Make it rain ash, dear heart,” I growl.
She doesn’t hesitate for a single moment. The girl I first met would wonder if these soldiers have families. If past trauma led them astray or if any might be innocent and coerced to be here. But my queen knows that the cruelty of this reign ends with Titania’s inner circle. That every one of them chose to be here, and it doesn’t matter why.
Keira thrusts out wields of her destructive earth power, grasping our enemies in twos and threes. She becomes stronger and more skilled each time she uses this ability. Red cracks form rapidly across flesh, then bodies explode into showers of ash and dirt all around us. With each death, her lips become more twisted and her eyes flare brighter.
“He is not here,” she barks out. “He’s not fucking here.” Her hands clench to fists and her skin and hair become so hot that it is a struggle to stand near her, much less touch her.
I don’t need to ask whoheis. Torin.
“Finish them, dear heart, then we will find Torin.” I grab her chin and force her to look at me. She is so lost in her bloodlust and the currents of rage churning through her that it takes a long time for her to find her way back to me.
Screams, horrible screams explode throughout the room, followed by a heavy silence. I glance up to find every single one of our enemies dead. Great pools of crimson are smeared across the ground, swathes of ashy soil floating within them. The air is thick with dark particles. Holes open up in the grout, drinking up all that fluid, while branches from the Wisteria of Mythanar drag away only the enemy corpses, allowing us to bury our dead.
When I open the doors of the throne room once more, there is a similar scene beyond. Keira lets out a gasp that is half a sob when her eyes land on her father at the front, his hand still halfway through brushing back his hair, and Caitlin at his side, grimacing down at the snaking branches cleaning up the scene. They are both drenched head to toe in blood, like it showered down upon them, but they don’t seem injured.
All eyes land upon us, then on Titania’s dead body at the foot of the throne. Every single Spring soldier falls to their knees in acceptance of our ascension.
I pick Keira up by her waist, making her release a small yelp in shock, then swing around and stalk to our throne. There should be two of them, side by side and positioned with equal importance, but I make do with one. I plop Keira within it, right where she belongs, and take a moment to admire her.
The gods know I have dreamed of placing her there for the longest time, as my queen and rightful ruler of this court. Even with wide eyes and speckled with blood, she looks utterly regal. I turn back to my people and seat myself on the edge of the throne’s thick armrest.
Cyprien steps out of the crowd. “All hail King Aldrin and Queen Keira!” he calls, a fist raised above his head.
“All hail King Aldrin and Queen Keira!” the unified voices of our supporters yell back.
Nothing has ever felt more right in my life than this.
The symbol of us, ruling together, our greatest enemy dead at our feet.
We march in a procession of warriors down the grand staircase, through the main foyer of the palace and toward the great balcony that overlooks the entire city below. Our forces have just finished clearing the space of the enemy, but the battle rages on below.
I shoot a glance at Aldrin. We both wear the golden crowns and matching capes of gold thread trimmed with white fur that Basil brought to us as soon as the palace was secure. Apparently the butler and spy hid the entire royal family jewels when Titania first took the throne. I prefer to focus on their symbolism rather than the corpse before us, still leaking droplets of blood upon the ground.
Titania’s body has been trussed up on a thick log taken from the Wisteria of Mythanar, one arm tied up over her head and the other with its hand fused around the dagger in her chest. Her body and legs are bound up by coils of vines and the entire logis constructed so it can be hung from the balcony rail. A display to the entire city that the tyrant is dead and the fight is over. Cyprien and Cedar carry it between them.
The moment we reach the edge of the balcony and the soldiers below witness not only their dead High Chancellor, but Aldrin and I crowned with hundreds of soldiers flanking us, Titania’s forces break. Truth Templars and Wildrose Guards alike flee, knowing there is no place for them under our rule. Our warriors pursue them, but my king and I have a greater purpose.
We should search the entire city for Torin before we announce Titania’s death. He will escape and we will lose him.I grind my teeth at the thought.How many times have I dreamed of meeting his cruelties with justice? Of making sure he never hurts another? While Titania may have spewed venom about Winter fae, low fae and humans, Torin was the force that actively persecuted them and encouraged so many others to join in. Given the same power as his mother, I have no doubt Torin would be the greater monster.
I see red when I think of him getting away and my stomach knots up at the thought of what he will do next.
I need his death like I need air.
Look, dear heart. Look at our people in the streets below,Aldrin says gently.At the violence, death and destruction that consumes them. At how many homes burn. They are in pain. We must end it. Torin is already lost. There is no finding him out in the city, though we will try.
I hate that he is right.
It isn’t like me to be selfish. To become consumed by rage or bloodlust. But my time as a prisoner in the Spring Court has peeled back all my softness and left only the hard edges that were always beneath. The rage at injustice, without the need to give the benefit of the doubt or understand other people’s terrible actions.
When Leonardo told us that he returned to the throne room after reviving us, only to discover that Torin had become so confident in their win and his mother’s safety that he took a regiment of Truth Templars out into the street to revel in the fighting and lead the masses to exterminate any resistance, I almost combusted. Even now, the need to leap upon a dragon and scour the streets for him myself is overwhelming. But I am not a soldier anymore, or even a rebel leader. I am a queen and I need to bring peace back to my people.
That much is abundantly clear from the sight below.
Dawn breaks over the horizon, bleeding silver light across the city, and still the people fight. The streets are dripping with red, blocked by churning, thrashing bodies that hack into each other. It must be an absolute nightmare to be locked within that battle, with nowhere to go to escape it, because every other street looks the same. Everywhere I look, people are at war. Smoke still billows from shops and houses, with many reduced to cinders.
From either side of the balcony, our forces channel out of the palace and down to the streets in an attempt to quell the rioting and mop up any Truth Templars they can kill or capture.
Cyprien and Cedar heave Titania’s body over the edge of the balcony railing, using air wields to take the brunt of the weight and guide it into place. I take Aldrin’s hand, interlocking my fingers with his, as the tree branches running across the low wall secure the tyrant in place. Aldrin illuminates fire orbs all around her like a beacon, drawing the eyes of the masses below. He places a halo behind us.
