Page 57 of The Reaping Rose

“He understands why I’ve made this decision. He supports me in following this path. His court, on the other hand…”

“It’s understandable why they resist.” I glance at the doorway, where four Vaelier warriors stand in the hallway, laughing. “Just because Malachi staged events to help incite his battle, it doesn’t erase things our people did to them or the things Wilder’s people did to ours. There have been many losses on both sides, and not all of that is Malachi.”

“I know that.” She follows my gaze to the warriors. “But it doesn’t change the fact that there are innocents on both sides. And in Lyrichia’s case, a realm that is uncertain once Malachi is dead. What then, Hazel becomes queen?”

She shivers at that thought.

“Potentially, yes.” I lean back, dragging my hair off my face and considering her point. Dealing with Malachi solves one problem and creates another. “The oldest Lyrichian accords state that the crown is passed through blood or battle.”

“Meaning?”

“Hazel isn’t the only one who can claim the crown in the event Malachi is overthrown. His generals can challenge the blood claim for themselves.”

“Greer was a general.” Elorie’s eyes widen, and I nod.

“Greer, yes. Although she technically gave up her rank when she left with us.”

“Do you think she realized what that meant?”

I drag my fingers through my hair. “You weren’t beside her when she found out what Malachi had done to her parents. She knew what she was giving up, and I doubt she regrets it.”

Color leaves Elorie’s cheeks; her silver eyes drift down as she considers that.

“There are two other generals.” I clear my throat. “General Balk at Ruse Village and General Alasdair Merikh in Rohldova.”

All light leaves Elorie’s eyes at the mention of Alasdair’s name. While I didn’t know what he had her doing beneath the palace while we were in the Ley Court, when we returned to Alyssium, she admitted that he and Malachi would drag her down there for experiments. Even now, my fingers grip the pommel of my sword with a strong urge to sink it into Alasdair’s neck for tormenting her.

“I don’t know that they’d challenge Hazel for fear of what she’d do to them if they tried,” I say. “There’s a greater chance she would refuse to take her brother’s seat upon his death and hand it over to them willingly. She’s not one to care for a crown.”

“And if that changed and she wanted to take her brother’s place, what then? With Malachi gone, would we want her to have it?”

I consider that question, my throat tightening. “I don’t know anymore.”

There was a time, centuries ago, when I thought I knew Hazel Adira. The youngest heir to the Lyrichian crown. The female cloaked in shadows, who everyone feared. There was a time I saw through that darkness and believed in a different version of her beneath. Things changed when I tried to get closer, to see beyond the nightmare the court painted her to be.

She changed.

Her magic changed her.

Shadow magic is the most unpredictable and dangerous. I know from the scars running parallel to my spine just how deadly the shadows can be. My father made sure of it. And like my father, Hazel is plagued by her shadows. But there was a time I wanted to think she could be different. That her shadow magic wasn’t the curse it’s known to be. There was a time I thought she was a friend.

Until she wasn’t.

Now, I wonder if Hazel is even there anymore, or if the shadows have claimed her mind completely.

My stomach turns as I shove that down. Hazel is gone. I’ve seen it in her eyes. I looked into them, and only shadows stared back. I felt it beneath my palms. Her magic lashed against mine with no resistance or control. I was barely able to stop her, but I did.

I’ll be the one who has to end her if it comes down to it.

She’s the female I used to follow around the palace because I was desperate to see what existed beyond the sadness in her eyes, and I’ll be her end.

Elorie leans forward, not taking her silver eyes off me, even when I don’t look at her. “I suppose now isn’t the time to think about that. A lot comes before it. The orb, the Well… We’ll worry about the rest when this is done.”

“It’s good you still have hope.”

“Do you?”

Do I? I close my eyes and listen to the wind scraping the top of this mountain. Death whispering on the breeze.