“You were a good friend, Puck.” Ariel a smiled at him, though her eyes were shadowed, far away. “I’m happy I could give you two another chance.”
Feeling betrayed, I gripped her shoulders, hard enough to make her wince, though she still didn’t look at me. “I won’t let you go,” I snarled, though my voice was beginning to crack. “You can’t do this. I’ll keep you alive by force if I have to!”
“Prince.” Grimalkin’s cool, stern voice broke through my desperation.
The word lanced into me, shimmering with power, compelling me to 342/387
listen, to obey. I closed my eyes, fighting the compulsion, feeling my panic grow. The cait sith was calling in his favor.
“Don’t, Grimalkin.” My words were a hoarse rasp through gritted teeth. “I will kill you if you order me, I swear I will.”
“I would not force you,” Grimalkin said in that same quiet, calm voice.
“But this is not your decision, prince. It is hers. All I ask is that you let her make that choice. Let her choose her own path, as you have done.” My composure broke. I fell to my knees with a sob, clutching at Ariel a’s dress, bowing my head. “Please,” I choked, tears streaming down my face.
“Ari, please. I’m begging you, don’t go. I can’t watch you die again.”
“I was already gone, Ash.” Ariel a’s voice shook, too, her hand resting against the back of my head. “All we had was borrowed time.” I sobbed, kneeling before her, as her fingers stroked my hair. “Let me do this,” Ariel a murmured. Her fingers slipped under my jaw, gently turning my face to hers. “Let me go.”
I couldn’t speak. Shaking, nearly blinded by tears, I let my hands fall to my lap. Ariel a pulled away, but her palm lingered against my cheek for a silent moment. I caught the tips of her fingers at the end, felt them slip from my grasp. “Remember me,” she whispered.
Then she turned and stepped toward the Guardian, who raised a hand to guide her forward. “It will not take long,” it said, and I thought I heard a note of admiration in the impassive voice. Ariel a nodded, taking a shaky breath as the Guardian raised a hand to her forehead, brushing back her silver hair.
343/387
“Will it hurt?” she whispered, so faint I barely caught it. The Guardian shook its cowled head.
“No,” it said gently, and a light began to form under its fingers, growing brighter with each passing second. “There will be no pain, Ariel a Tularyn.
Never again. Close your eyes.”
She glanced at me. For a moment, she looked exactly as she had when I first met her, unbowed by sorrow, her eyes shining with joy. She smiled, a real smile of love and happiness and forgiveness, and then the light grew too bright to look at and I had to turn away.
Deep within me, something stirred. The darkness that I’d kept locked away, the part of me that was all Unseelie: hate, violence and black rage, rushed to the surface with a roar, seeking to overwhelm me. But it was met by something bright and pure and intense, a miasma of light that seared away the darkness, filling every corner and expanding outward, until there was no place left for the blackness to hide. I shivered, reeling from the f lood of light and color and emotion, not knowing how empty I had been until that moment.
The brightness faded. I was kneeling on an empty platform at the End of the World, moondust and rock swirling around me. The Guardian stood a few feet away, alone, leaning on its staff as if winded.
Ariel a was gone.
The Guardian straightened, gazing at me through the darkness of its cowl. “Take a few moments for your grief,” it said, cold and formal once more.
344/387
“When you are ready, meet me at the gates of the Testing Grounds. I have one last thing to give you before we part.” I barely noticed when the Guardian left. Numbly, I gazed at the spot where Ariel a had stood seconds before. Grimalkin had also disappeared, the parapet that held him empty and bare, as if he’d cleared out the second the ceremony was finished. I tried to be angry at the cat, but it was futile.
Even if he hadn’t come, Ariel a would still have made her decision. I knew her well enough to know she would’ve found a way. I couldn’t muster any rage through the numbing grief weighing me down like a heavy blanket. Ariel a was gone. She was gone. I had let her go, again.
A presence stepped up beside me, but it wasn’t the Guardian. “It wasn’t your fault, Ash,” Puck said quietly. “It never was. She made her choice a long time ago.”
I nodded, still not trusting myself to speak. Puck sighed, crouching next to me, gazing around the tower. “I don’t know about you,” he said, completely serious, “but I’m about ready to go home. Let’s get Furball, check to see if the Wolf is still alive, and get out of here.”