𝙰 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚁𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜: 𝚂𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚌 𝙴𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔢𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱(𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 43-45)

For my final task, I was given my old tunic and pants--stained and torn and reeking--but despite my stench, I kept my chin high as I was escorted to the throne room.

The doors were flung open, and the silence of the room assaulted me. I waited for the jeers and shouts, waited to see gold flash as the onlookers placed their bets, but this time the faeries just stared at me, the masked ones especially intently.

Their world rested on my shoulders, Rhys had said. But I didn't think it was worry alone that was spread across their features.

I had to swallow hard as a few of them touched their fingers to their lips, then extended their hands to me--a gesture for the fallen, a farewell to the honored dead. There was nothing malicious about it.

Most of these faeries belonged to the courts of the High Lords--had belonged to those courts long before Amaros seized their lands, their lives. And if Tamlin and Rhysand were playing games to keep us alive—

I strode up the path they'd cleared--straight for Amaros. The king smiled when I stopped in front of his throne. Tamlin was in his usual place beside him, but I wouldnt look at him--not yet.

"Two trials lie behind you," Amaros said, picking at a fleck of dust on his blood-red tunic. His red hair shone, a gleaming darkness that threatened to swallow up his golden crown. "And only one more awaits. I wonder if it will be worse to fail now--when you are so close."

But only a few laughs hissed from the red-skinned guards. Everyone else remained silent. Even Lucien's miserable brothers. Even Rhysand, wherever she was in the crowd.

I blinked to clear my burning eyes. Perhaps, like Rhysand's, their oaths of allegiance and betting on my life and nastiness had been a show. And perhaps now--now that the end was imminent--they, too, would face my potential death with whatever dignity they had left.

Amaros glared at them, but when his gaze fell upon me, he grinned broadly. "Any words to say before you die?"

I came up with a plethora of curses, but I instead looked at Tamlin. He didn't react--his features were like stone. I wished that I could glimpse his face--if only for a moment. But all I needed to see were those green eyes.

"I love you," I said. "No matter what he says about it, no matter if it's only with my insignificant human heart. Even when they burn my body, I'll love you."

My lips trembled, and my vision clouded before several warm tears slipped down my chilled face. I didnt wipe them away.

He didn't react--he didn't even grip the arms of his throne. I supposed that was his way of enduring it, even if it made my chest cave in. Even if his silence killed me.

Amaros said, "You'll be lucky if we even have enough left of you to burn."

I stared at him long and hard. But his words were not met with jeers or smiles or applause from the crowd. Only silence.

It was a gift that gave me courage, that made me bunch my fists, that made me embrace the tattoo on my arm. I had beaten him until now, fairly or not, and I would not feel alone when I died. I would not die alone. It was all I could ask for.

"You never figured out my riddle, did you?" he asked. I didnt respond, and he smiled. "Pity. The answer is so lovely."

"Get it over with," I growled.

Amaros looked at Tamlin. "No final words to her?" he said, quirking an eyebrow. When Tamlin didnt respond, he grinned at me. "Very well, then." He clapped his hands twice.