Page 107 of Ruin of Revenants

“You love her! You’re supposed to help us save her!” Lily was screaming now, beating against his arms, his back. I was vaguely aware of Cliff and Owen encircling us, also reaching for Archer.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret,” Owen was saying carefully, almost like trying to tame a wild beast.

Black spots flickered in my vision, my lungs screaming for air. Archer hated me again. He was going to fulfill the prophecy after all. Maybe it had all been a trick—his protectiveness, his gentler side. The moment he’d told me he’d lied about not feeling anything when we’d kissed. All a ruse to make me let down my guard, to trust that he would help me escape King Wystan’s death sentence on my head once our blood bond was broken. Even if he couldn’t use his magic, he was charming and persuasive. He knew how to act. I’d seen firsthand how often he did so around his father, his people, and even, on occasion, his friends. How had I been so foolish as to not suspect he’d been wearing a different kind of mask with me?

But all he’d wanted was to kill me himself as soon as he was free to do so.

When I squeezed my eyes shut, I could see his boyish smile framed by dimples. I felt the way he’d once held me like I was important. I knew his emotions and dreams and fears better than anyone else in the world. Or at least, I thought I had.

“That’s enough!” Lily shouted, a flash of light bursting through the temple and burning my eyes. At the same instant, Owen sent a rush of water that shoved against Archer’s chest, pushing him away from me. His arms dropped, the vise-like grip he’d had on my neck finally releasing.

Panting and gasping, my throat burning as air poured in, I nearly crumpled to the floor.

Archer stared at me, chest heaving, his now-wet hair plastered to his forehead. There was a feverish, wild gleam in his eyes, a hatred like I’d never seen before tightening his jaw. Fear and pain like I’d never experienced before burned through me, the betrayal cutting me down to the bone.

“You deserve to die,” Archer spat. “You’re a monster—you’re all monsters. Killers. And I need to save Emberglade,” he went on, glancing at his friends. “Vithenna started the revenant army to purge the kingdom of all the death. If I slay Isoria, she will stop her revenants and spare us. They’re marching on Rainsong now, and she broke the barrier. If we don’t stop them, we’ll all die.”

As if to punctuate his statement, Vithenna’s voice rang through the sanctuary. Celeste and Coraline fell to their knees, while the rest of us stared at the ceiling, searching for a glimpse of the unseen goddess. “You are fated enemies,” she agreed. “If one of you slays the other, I’ll call off the army. They’ll go to their eternal rest. All of this will end.”

That was what Vithenna had told me too—another way she was toying with us. She wanted to pin Archer and me against one another, wanted one of us to slay the other.

Of course he wanted to save Emberglade. I wanted to also, but not at such a cost.

I shut my eyes against the pain and drew on my magic, relieved that I’d entered the temple without the forget-me-not shackles. My magic responded eagerly, like a muscle that had long been stiff and dormant and was eager to be stretched and used again. I transformed, my wings sprouting beside me in their glorious shades of blue, purple, and teal, rippling in the breeze that came through the open ceiling.

My gaze fell on Owen, who formed a wall of water that sparkled and swirled between him and his companions and me. I didn’t resent him for it, even if a twinge of sorrow struck me at the sight. He wasn’t lashing out at me, but it was clear he was prepared to defend his prince against my fire if I struck out with it. Which, after Archer had just tried to kill me, was a logical thing to suspect.

Owen may have not wanted to harm me, but he was loyal to Archer, Captain of the Royal Guard and duty-bound to defend him unto death.

A line had been drawn between Archer and his friends and me, one I had no desire to cross. Heart aching, I stretched my wings to their fullest and leapt into the air, soaring for the opening in the ceiling. I flew for the sky, toward freedom and safety. Toward the place I could never stay again, but could visit and hopefully confirm my people were well again. Toward Everhaven.

My course took me over the countryside, sweeping westward toward the Cinderwood. Flying was a balm, my only comfort when all I could see whenever I blinked was Archer charging me, trying to choke me.

And over and over, Vithenna’s words repeated in my head, taunting me.

You are fated enemies.

If one of you slays the other, all of this will end.

I was eager to fly wide of Rainsong and whatever guards, likely armed with forget-me-not weapons, that the king would have watching for Archer’s and my return, ready to perform a swift execution. But something prodded me closer to the border than I normally would have dared, like a quiet alarm. Archer had announced that the revenant army was marching on Rainsong, and though almost everyone in the capital wanted me dead, I took no joy in imagining my enemies’ destruction.

Turning toward Rainsong, my heart lurched into my throat as I drew nearer and spied the countless dark forms marching south—toward the capital. In the setting sun, they were an imposing mass making quick work of the distance between them and Rainsong’s border. The revenants wouldn’t have needed to stop to eat or rest, only to destroy as the goddess that controlled them wanted them to, and then, with greater numbers, continue onward. They were still too far for the guards to spy from the city walls, which meant that Rainsong wouldn’t have much time to prepare and fight.

The hairs rose on the back of my neck when I picked out smaller forms among them. Children. Nausea climbed my throat. Though I knew the revenants were not the souls of the young fae who had once occupied those bodies, it still seemed wrong to think of facing them in a battle.

For a moment, I considered flying onward to Everhaven. I longed for home, to see with my own eyes that Vithenna had made good on our bargain and everyone I loved was well and safe. I longed to throw myself into Mama’s arms and cry like I was a child again, letting her help me bear my burdens and grief.

King Wystan and Archer wanted me dead. Owen and Cliff—and maybe Lily—would ultimately be forced to side with the prince they’d pledged their loyalty to if it came down to it. Anyone within Rainsong who recognized me would know I was a fugitive, a so-called demon they feared and hated. If I wasn’t killed on sight, I’d be dragged back to the dungeons in chains.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about Orchid and my friends. Couldn’t stop thinking of Archer, even if his betrayal stung. I didn’t want any of them dead.

Thinking quickly, I climbed higher, pushing toward the clouds so I could stay out of reach and notice of the revenant army and their magic. I soared closer to Rainsong and landed at the edge of the Emerald Fields in a small copse of trees, far enough away I couldn’t be spied by the city guards. If the barrier was broken, I wouldn’t have trouble sneaking across the border if I was swift. I knew the way back through the secret tunnels to Archer’s quarters in the castle. Maybe, if I was lucky, I could at least pass a message along to Orchid to help warn the city. They could prepare for battle.

Then I’d be left with a choice—stay and try to fight alongside them, or flee for Everhaven.

But I had someone else I needed to speak with first.

“Mortius!” I knelt in the mud, wondering how Archer had managed to get the death god’s attention. “If you’re listening, I’m sure it would interest you to know that Vithenna is the one raising the dead and trapping souls within their own bodies. Surely it must grate on you, being unable to usher those souls into the afterlife. Wouldn’t you like to defy the goddess of life?”