She is strong enough to survive my death, though I would do anything to keep her from that kind of agony. Give anything. But I am running out of strength to give.
Peace, my love.She speaks in the deepest part of my mind in steady, soothing tones. Her voice is like warm water after swimming through an icy sea. Like a balm to each of my wounds.
Then, a wave of emotion comes crashing into me, a torrent of determination barreling through our bond. All of her love and her compassion and her endless well of faith in me flood my veins until my limbs tingle with awareness.
Before I know it, I’m pushing Cepheus back, slamming my trident against his with one arm while swinging my sword down with another. I land a hit to his thigh, and blood pools from the wound. It spirals out around him, mingling with the sea and enticing the hungry sharks above.
His lips pull back in a snarl. A hush falls over the crowd as if they can hardly believe that their king is mortal. That he can bleed like so many of his people have.
Again and again, I strike until the tides have turned, until he falters. His feet scrape the sand and he stumbles, his eyes going wide when he realizes the dragon has tightened into a circle around us. With me above him, he has nowhere to go.
A wall of scales shimmers and stretches, moving even closer than before. I strike Cepheus again, forcing him backward, towardher.The dragon flares her nostrils and bares her teeth, her head looming just behind him.
Another furious hit has him dropping his sword. I don’t let up, I keep pushing, keep fighting, locking our tridents together and wrenching him closer. He tries to counter my blade but it’s too late. It’s already buried hilt-deep in his abdomen.
The king’s trident slips from his grasp. Panic floods his veins, swimming in his eyes—so like his granddaughter’s in their shape and color, but so devoid of her compassion and life and goodness that I don’t struggle to hold his gaze.
He calls out for his warriors to save him, but even if they wanted to, they won’t. He has taught them to respect strength, and right now he is weak.
His mouth drops open in fury, in shock. I can’t deny a surge of satisfaction as I twist the blade before ripping it from his flesh.
A hush falls over the crowd as Cepheus sputters and bleeds all over the arena where he has killed and maimed and tortured his people for centuries. His hands go to his wound, an attempt to stop the bleeding, but it won’t help.
Even if I were to show him mercy now, something he doesn’t deserve, his fate has already been decided.
A shadow falls over him, and his eyes go wide. He already knows what comes next. Already feels death approaching. A grimace splits his lips, his chest rising and falling, his pulse racing faster with each second. He turns to meet his fate, and the dragon’s eyes narrow. Blue flames fill her mouth and nose.
It’s more than her recognition of Melodi, of me. She finally has the freedom to punish the man who enslaved her for so long, who forced her to live in a cage and fight his battles, to maim and maul and destroy when she was only ever meant to protect.
And she is hungry for vengeance.
In one fell swoop, she brings her sharp teeth down over his body, ripping him apart, limb by limb. The sound of his cries and the crunching of bone fill the air until she severs his body in half, destroying every last remaining part of him. Cheers erupt from the crowd.
The king is dead.
CHAPTERFIFTY-ONE
ZAINA
Aday has passed, and my adrenaline still hasn’t faded from the twenty seconds I spent believing Madame had come for us. But there had been only a distant recognition in her amethyst gaze. No rage. No betrayal. No maternalistic disappointment.
The residual weakness in my limbs is enough to make me realize we will never be truly ready to face Madame, if she still has the power to affect us on this scale.
But then, I knew that already. Still, we have no choice.
What I wasn’t prepared for, and am still trying to process, is that Madame has a twin sister.
Danica is back in the water, now. She passed on what knowledge she had, along with an offer to sneak us onto shore. Einar asked her about Mayiman weapons, but she said they would be useless for us since we don’t have the necessary strength to back our blows, especially since air hardens the already thick skin of the Mayima.
Danica passed along something else, too. It looks like an auger shell, but it’s so much more than that. It’s the only real hope we’ve had since the day Madame killed Remy’s parents.
Now, all that’s left to do is wait.
My gaze flits back down to the water, though once I spy the violet head swimming just beneath the surface, I quickly look away. Danica has been helpful, and even brought news of my sister, but it’s hard to look at her.
Hard to trust her.
Hard to reconcile the pieces of the plan we’ve come up with since she arrived.