He tried to say something, but his words were only a gurgle.
I pulled out my sword, and he dropped to his knees in front of me. Not ever wanting to see him again, I turned and strode away, so that I only heard the soft thud of his body when he hit the ground.
It was over. He was dead.
They were all dead.
Above us, the sky was an endless expanse of velvety black, with millions of stars spreading like glittering diamonds spilled across the dark canvas. Before I’d left Antion, I’d never seen so much sky at once; it was only visible in patches through the unbelievably tall trees and bushes that enclosed our kingdom in a lush canopy. But here, the sky was as incomprehensible as eternity, stretching on forever.
I stared at the stars, because I couldn’t bear to bring myself to look down at the bodies that lay before me and those being buried elsewhere. I didn’t want to remember that they were gone. That they’d been taken away to live up there somewhere, among the pricks of light in the sky.
Asher.
Borracio.
So many other soldiers and sorcerers from both of our kingdoms.
Tanoori.
Rylan.
Tears slipped out of my eyes to run down my upturned face.
I heard someone walking up to me, but whoever it was stopped a few feet away and waited silently. Finally, I squeezed my eyes shut and let my head drop. I wrapped my arms around my body and took a deep breath.
When I glanced over my shoulder and saw that it was Damian standing there, wearing clean clothes and his crown, the grime and blood of the battle washed away, the tears started all over again.
He stepped toward me without a word and took me in his arms. I clung to him, staining his clean tunic with my tears as my body shook from the sobs I’d been holding in for years. No matter how many losses I’d suffered, I’d always forced myself to go on, to bury my pain and grief. But tonight, there was no one else to fight — no more battles to prepare for.
We’d finally conquered the enemy; we would finally have true peace.
But the cost had been unbearable.
My entire family, almost everyone I’d ever loved or cared for, except for Damian, had been taken from me.
But the same was true for him, too, and when I finally pulled away, I realized I wasn’t the only who had been crying. His face was streaked with tears as well.
Together, we turned to face the funeral pyres.
It had taken all night to bring the bodies down from the canyon and to put the wood together to honor our fallen, after the remaining soldiers from the Dansiian army had surrendered. Apparently, the golden light the Rén Zhsas had called upon had come all the way out of the canyon, into the city and valley beyond, killing the black sorcerers who had remained with the bigger portion of the army and terrifying the rest of the Dansiian soldiers into throwing down their weapons and surrendering. Many of them were even helping prepare graves for the fallen, apologizing for fighting against us, and claiming they’d had no choice.
I believed them.
The Blevonese were burying their dead, as was their custom, with the help of those Dansiians who were willing, which I hoped was the first step toward a lasting peace between all three kingdoms. But Damian had insisted we honor those we’d lost in Antion’s tradition.
“It’s time,” Damian murmured, and I nodded.
He let go of me so I could step forward and say my final good-byes. I went to Tanoori first, reached out to stroke back the hair from her cold face. It was my fault she’d died. She might not have survived the battle no matter what, but her death had been a direct result of Rafe’s control on me. I bent forward to kiss her forehead, fresh tears splashing on her stiff face.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry I failed you. I hope that you and Eljin are together now. I failed you both.”
I kissed her again and then made myself straighten and turn to face Rylan.
We’d wrapped his body in white sheets, to preserve the memory of him as he’d always looked, not as he looked now. When I stepped up next to him, my legs wouldn’t hold me, and I dropped to my knees beside him, shaking with sobs. I reached over to put my hands on his, where they were crossed over his chest, my forehead pressed against his shoulder. I remembered his last word, his brother’s name, and I fervently prayed that he was with his family again — that they were all reunited now.
“Thank you,” I choked out. “Thank you for saving him.”
I’d soaked the white sheets by the time I finally forced myself to climb back to my feet on trembling legs. Damian came to stand beside me, wrapping his arm around me and drawing me in to his side. He reached up to wipe his face as well.
“I owe him my life,” he said after a while, his voice hoarse. “If you hadn’t risked yourself to save him and bring him back to Antion, he wouldn’t have been there last night to save me. I’m not sure I deserved that sacrifice.”
I looked up into Damian’s tear-streaked face, at his bloodshot eyes, which were still so beautiful, and it truly hit me for the first time. We’d both survived.
There was nothing and no one left to tear us apart, ever again.
“He told me to love you … as he loved me,” I said. “In the end, he was happy for us. He truly came to love you, too.”
Damian swallowed once, hard, his jaw clenched, and nodded. “I will never forget him — or his sacrifice for us,” he finally said, his voice unsteady. “You were right to love him. He deserved it.”
He wrapped his other arm around me, holding me close for a long moment. And then he drew back. “Are you ready?”
I reached out to place my hand on Rylan’s one last time. I broke away from Damian to bend over and press my lips to his cheek through the sheet. “I truly did love you. Thank you for what you did.” I kissed his cheek again and whispered, “Good-bye.”
And then I straightened and turned to Damian. “I’m ready.”
He signaled, and some servants who had stayed behind with the troops came forward, their lit torches ready. We stepped back, and as the servants lit the pyres one by one, I whispered good-bye to Asher, and Borracio — being buried elsewhere — and the others who had also fallen during the night. Flawed men and women, but loyal friends to the end.
The flames took hold quickly, rising up to consume the bodies, releasing their souls to rise to their final resting place. As the pyres grew, the rest of the Antionese soldiers and guards who had survived the battle, including Deron and Jerrod, formed a circle around them. Even some Blevonese came; Jiro, my father’s cousin, and King Osgand was there, standing back from the crowd, paying his respects without interrupting.
“We will never forget those who fell here, and paid the ultimate price so that those of us who survived might enjoy the peace that we will now be able to establish.” Damian pulled out his sword and lifted it into the air, in salute. “We shall always remember their names and speak to our children of their bravery, so that our children will tell their children, and their deeds will never be forgotten — nor their sacrifices.”
The rest of us all pulled our swords out as well and lifted them up into the sky. Soon, the very first hint of the rising sun would begin to lighten the sky to the east, wiping away the stars, but for now, the only light was that of the fires, burning away the remains of those we’d lost.
“For Antion!” Damian cried, and we all echoed his cry. “For Blevon!”
“To peace!” I added, and he glanced over at me and then smiled.
“To peace,” he cried, and everyone echoed him yet again. “At last,” he murmured.
Just as he lowered his sword, the first ray of sunlight burst over the peaks.
He turned to me and put his arm around my shoulders. Together, we watched the flames burn away, until there was nothing left of our friends but ash. Everyone else had left by then, leaving us alone.
Finally, I turned away. I knew there were many more days, months, even years of mourning and grief ahead of me — bu
t the words Lisbet had told me all those months ago, after I’d defeated Iker and had been struggling under the weight of guilt for Marcel’s and Jude’s deaths, rose back up. She’d told me that I was dishonoring their memories and their sacrifices by wasting the life they’d given me if I lived as a shadow, stuck in my sorrow and guilt. She’d helped me see that the greatest way to honor them was to live the best life I could — to find happiness again.
I looked up to the sky, and I was struck by the contrast of the darkness fading to blue as the sun slowly rose, bringing life and light back to the earth. The night came every day, stealing the sun’s power and turning the world to black. But every morning, the sun rose again, bringing light once more, no matter how dark the night had seemed.
When I glanced up at Damian, that’s how I felt. As if together, we were that tender, first ray of sunlight stretching out to try and dispel the darkness of the night. He was my light and my life.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, his eyes meeting mine.
I shook my head, not quite able to put it into words just yet. Instead, I stretched up to kiss him. I could tell he was surprised, but he quickly recovered and gently wrapped his arms around me, his lips on mine a tender promise of what was to come.
And behind us, the sun finally burst free of the mountains.
2 years later
Damian
When I come into our room, Alexa stands by the window, staring out at the jungle. I often find her like this, lost in thought. I know her mind frequently drifts to the past, not only to the memory of the many battles we fought, but also to all those whom we lost.
I quietly cross the room to wrap my arms around her from behind. Though she still complains about wearing the dresses I had made for her, I hope to convince her someday of how beautiful she looks in them. Not that I mind when she wears pants and a tunic. I’m not blind. But her swollen belly will prevent her from wearing pants for a while yet.
She wraps her arms over mine, twining our fingers together, as we look out the window, toward the new building that is almost complete — the sanctuary for the women, babies, and children still searching for homes or a place in our kingdom after the horrors of my father’s breeding house and Armando’s experiments in Dansii. After the rest of his soldiers surrendered to us, King Osgand and I agreed that we would jointly rule over Dansii until a new monarch can be placed upon the throne, one we trust to keep the peace. For now, we are still focused on rebuilding and healing the wounds all three kingdoms bear — inside and out.
The reconstruction of the palace is almost complete as well, which is a miracle considering the destruction we returned home to two years ago. Alexa had warned me about Armando’s threat to burn his way through Antion, but I hadn’t truly believed it possible, until we saw the devastation ourselves when we returned. Armando had not only burned his way through the jungle — he’d looted and burned down a large portion of the palace as well.
But the jungle is tenacious, and it has already grown back to its former lushness — all except for the trees. It will take many more years before the trees that were destroyed grow back. But for now, Alexa doesn’t seem to mind as much as I do. She says she likes seeing more of the sky, that it reminds her to live the best life that she can to honor the sacrifices that were made so that we have this life to enjoy.
“Did you need something?” she finally asks.
“Do I need an excuse to come hug and kiss my beautiful wife?”
She turns in my arms, her pregnant belly coming between us. “You know I can tell when you’re lying.”
“No, you can’t. I fooled you for years,” I tease her. “But in this case, I’m not lying. You are beautiful.”
Worry lines still crease her forehead, pulling down over her hazel eyes.
“What is it?” I ask.
She shakes her head and turns back to the window. “What … what if I’m not a good mother?”
“What?”
I spin her around to face me again, and she grimaces. “What do I know about taking care of a baby? When he gets old enough to hold a sword, then I’ll be good for something. But until then …” She shrugs, and I have to smother my laugh, turning it into a cough. But she isn’t fooled and slaps my arm. “I’m being serious,” she insists.
“You will be an amazing mother, just like you are amazing at everything you put your mind to,” I assure her, bending forward to kiss her once, twice. I mean for them to be brief, but she softens into my arms, and I can’t resist her. Her mouth opens beneath mine, and I pull her closer, my fingers tangling in her long hair, which she wears loose today, hanging down her back. Finally, we breathlessly break apart.
“You know, that’s what got me in this whole mess to begin with,” she points out, her eyes alight with a teasing glint that I love almost more than any other expression she makes.
“I’m not entirely sure what you mean. Maybe you should show me, so I can fully understand.”
She just shakes her head and puts one hand on her belly.
“Is she moving?”
“Yes, he is.”
She guides my hand to where our unborn child stretches against her skin, pressing a hand or foot into my palm. “You know, I was thinking, when our daughter is born, we could name her after our mothers.”
“Nialah Olara,” she muses out loud. “Hmmm, I like that.” She moves my hand lower, to where the baby has rolled and continues to move beneath her skin. “And if I’m right and it’s a boy?”
She looks up into my eyes, still smiling. But this is the real reason I came to find her. I’d been sitting in my office, going through some missives from King Osgand and General Tinso, who was found bound in a Dansiian dungeon and who returned to his castle shortly after our victory. The loss of his son was a terrible blow, but he is holding up rather well, considering. He still has Lisbet and his nephew, Jax, who often go to stay with him so he isn’t always alone in his big castle in Blevon — though they are returning soon, as neither of them can wait to meet the new baby, and they both want to be here for the birth. As I was reading through their messages, I’d suddenly thought of our baby — how he or she would be born into a world of peace, instead of war and bloodshed as Alexa and I had been. And I’d suddenly realized what we should name our son, if we are given a boy this time.
“I was thinking we could name him Marcel Rylan,” I say quietly.
Alexa’s smile slips as her arms curl protectively around her belly. “Marcel Rylan,” she repeats in a whisper. “That’s perfect.”
I lift my hands to her jaw, tilting her chin up so I can look into her face. “Are you sure?”
She nods, and when she finally meets my gaze, I see the tears swimming in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” I gently stroke her hair back from her cheeks, my fingers brushing past her whole skin on one side of her face and the striated, scarred skin on the other. I know she is still embarrassed by her scars sometimes, but I barely even notice them. She is just Alexa, the woman I love — my wife, my queen. And she is beautiful, inside and out.
“They’re happy tears — mostly.” She smiles and presses a kiss to my palm. She turns back to the window, but reaches to take my hand in hers. “Do you know why I love seeing the sky so much?” she asks, confusing me by the sudden turn in conversation.
“No.”
But then she tells me a story, the story of a girl who woke up scarred, inside and out, in this very room, years ago. And the words that a wise woman told her that helped her find her way back from the grief and guilt that threatened to consume her.
And as she speaks, we gaze out at the expanse of blue sky that stretches above the jungle we call home and the palace where we will raise our son or daughter, to be just as wonderful as their mother. A woman who can look out at the sunshine and see a new beginning.
The new beginning we created together.
As I sit here, trying to compose my thoughts to write these acknowledgments, I
find myself overwhelmed by emotion. It is going to be a bittersweet thing, leaving these characters and this world behind. What a journey it’s been. An entire trilogy … I actually did it.
First and foremost, I must thank my Heavenly Father for the blessings in my life — for the beautiful family I’ve been given, and for the gift of writing He bestowed upon me. I can’t imagine my life without this gift, without the words and stories that have always come to me. I’m forever grateful for that blessing.
To everyone who has helped make this dream, the dream of sharing my words with the world, a reality, I offer my deepest, heartfelt gratitude.
To my editor, Lisa, who remains one of the most lovely people I have the privilege of knowing. Thank you for believing in me and my words, and for giving them shape and bringing them to life. Thank you also to the incredible Sheila Marie — publicist extraordinaire. You amaze me. And the entire team at Scholastic — thank you for everything. The support, the excitement, the gorgeous covers, the kindness you’ve shown me — you truly are a family, and I thank you for letting me be a part of it. Donuts for everyone! (And maybe one of these times, I’ll get to be the one to deliver them!)
To Josh — I can’t thank you enough. None of this would be possible without you. I’m so grateful to have you in my corner. And of course, Tracey and the entire Adams Lit team. I am so lucky to be able to work with you all! Here’s to many more adventures to come!
To Kathryn Purdie — Defy would never have left my computer if it weren’t for you, and now look at it. All grown up, a complete trilogy. So grateful for you. And to all of my critique partners and author friends — thank you for always being there for me, for thoughtful feedback, and for understanding. It takes one to know one — and it takes one to truly get it. I’m so glad to have so many wonderful people who “get” me in my life.