“No! No!” Quellos cries.
Dayton lunges at him, but Quellos jerks away.
I drop the scroll, panting. My chest feels empty, every reserve of magic I have depleted. “It’s over, Quellos. It’s time to surrender.”
“Never,” the snake cries. “It’s not over yet, princeling.”
Dayton stalks toward him. “You have no army.”
Quellos backs up, and there’s something frantic and wild in his expression. A cornered animal. “You’re right. I have no army. So, I’ll take yours.”
His green eyes glow with sickly flame; a mist oozes out of his fingers and swirls around his body. His mouth works, but no sound comes out.
“Stop him!” Rosalina cries. “Get the crown!”
Dayton pitches forward, but it’s too late.
With utter horror, I look around. The dead are rising again. Not the ones I just set free.
Our dead.
Our fallen soldiers.
And they’re turning against the living.
I clutch my chest as if I could replenish the magic well I’ve just run dry. No, no, we’ve come this far. But there’s so many fallen soldiers, our own ranks so thin. The deads’ eyes blanch as they turn on their own comrades. Horrified screams rise.
There’s nothing left—
A horn blares in the distance. A sound as powerful and thunderous as a winter storm.
My feet shake beneath me as the ground trembles. Atop the hill emerges a host of riders, their great steeds varying from polar bears to moose to eagles.
And at the helm, atop a huge reindeer, rides Keldarion.
84
Keldarion
Looking down at the battle from atop the hill, I know we arrived not a minute too soon.
The usually golden field before Coppershire glimmers with white frost. Autumn’s soldiers are pushed to the wall, their own dead rising up against them.
And Perth Quellos still lives.
Eirik Vargsaxa, captain of the Kryodian Riders, comes up beside me, his moose glimmering in silver-blue armor. “On your command, my Prince.”
With the full might of Winter’s most valiant cavalry, I let loose a cry and surge down the hill. The Riders follow me, charging upon the living dead with claw and tooth. An owl screeches from above as its rider lobs flaming arrows. The Autumn troops stagger backward as we flow across the battlefield, their stunned expressions finally registering that we’re here to help. They throw their swords up in cheer.
With one hand, I hold tight to the reins of my steed, and with the other, I hack the heads off any wraiths in my path. There’s no sign of Farron or Quellos amidst the chaos.
A familiar glint of dark metal catches my gaze, and I usher my reindeer forward. With a single swing, I cleave the wraith facing off against Ezryn in two. His armor is streaked with frost and blood.
He tilts his head up at me. “Little late to the party.”
“Fashionably so.”
We hold each other’s gazes for a moment and then he gives that familiar shake of his helm, the one that lets me know there’s a smile deep behind the metal.
“Come on.” I hold down my arm to him. “Let’s find my vizier.”
He swings up behind me on the reindeer. “Is an I-told-you-so in order?”
“If I let you kill him, are we even?”
Ezryn snorts, and I take that as a yes. “I last saw Farron heading for the center high ground.”
I redirect my steed and snap the reins. We ride, weaving between soldiers and wraiths alike.
Ezryn’s breath is heavy. “You couldn’t have told us you were leaving to go get aid instead of just running off?”
My shoulders stiffen, and I’m glad he can’t see my face. “I wasn’t sure I could convince the Riders to follow me. I didn’t want you to count on me if I failed.”
Ezryn sighs. “Come on, Kel. We can always count on you.”
I stay silent, focusing on maneuvering through the conflict. Two giant polar bears crush a small horde of wraiths beneath their massive bodies, their riders swinging flaming swords at the ones that scramble out. My reindeer leaps over a fallen frosted horse.
“We’re never going to find him in this chaos—” I begin when I feel it. That terrible, nagging thing in my chest. That thing I wish I could rip out. She’s here.
I dig my heels into the side of the reindeer, the rest of the battle fading away as I follow that tether.
“There!” Ezryn yells, pointing.
Up ahead, at the base of the central hill, are our brothers. Dayton fights sword to spear with Perth Quellos, while Farron’s got one hand on a scroll, the other desperately clinging to his chest. And beside him, standing radiant and strong, is Rosalina.
That cursed woman.
Fury and terror surge within me seeing her here in the middle of a battle. She was supposed to be in the keep, away from all this!
But Rosalina can’t follow orders if her life depends on it.
Which it does right now.
Cursed, cursed woman!
Ezryn growls. “Let’s fucking kill him.”
I click my tongue and the reindeer lowers its antlers. With a roar, my great steed charges straight into my vizier, sending him flying.
I pull to a stop, and Ezryn and I jump from the animal.
“Kel,” Rosalina breathes, and I turn to her. Gods Above and Below, she is beautiful. And despite the battle that rages around us, there’s no fear on her face, only determination. I fight the urge to grab her in my arms and—
“It can’t be.” Ezryn’s voice. He collapses to the ground beside a body, and my heart tightens. Princess Niamh.
Green glows from Ezryn’s hands, but even I can see it’s too late. She’s gone. The only consolation is that Quellos’s unnatural magic has yet to animate her corpse like the other soldiers.
“You came.”
Farron stands before me, a flat expression on his face. I grip him around the back of his neck. “As long as I draw breath, I will fight for you.”
“Yeah, well, let’s get to fighting then.” Dayton stands beside him, body drenched in blood. I inhale. It’s his own.
Quellos staggers to his feet.
“Your time is over,” I call to him, dragging my sword through the earth.
He bares his teeth and hisses, “Keldarion, cursed one, traitor. Beast of the Briar. I’m liberating Winter from your rule.”
“Liberating it with death.” I slam my foot upon his spear, shattering it. My family comes up beside me, and I feel their presence like a warm breeze. My brothers. My mate.
Quellos’s eyes flash. “Death would be better than serving under a monster such as you.”
I kick him in his chest, drawing my sword up over my head. “Then I shall grant your wish.”
I swing the blade down—
It smacks hard against ice. Quellos laughs, a shield of green frost between me and him. “Always the fool, Keldarion. I am not like you. I am so much more. I need not Winter’s Blessing or the Sword of the Protector, or even life itself. I am beyond it. I am greatness. I am—”
Something shoots forward: a purple thorn vine. I whirl. Caspian? But no. It flies from a coil around Rosalina’s wrist. The briar wraps around Quellos’s crown and draws it toward her. A horrific crunch sounds through the air. I reach for her but—
But I don’t need to. Quellos’s green crown lies beneath her boot.
“Everything you say is poison,” she snarls to the vizier and grinds her heel harder. A green mist oozes out from the crushed crystal. “You don’t get to hurt anyone else.” Her expression flashes with darkness. “There is no future for you in the Enchanted Vale.”
Her vines twist around the gnarled vizier, binding him in a vice of thorns. He struggles against the hold, but without his cursed magic, he’s nothing but a weak old man.
I will not suffer this traitor to live. I rise my sword above my head—
Farron grabs my arm. “Wait,” he says. “We should take him alive to question him about this sorcery.”
With a heavy grunt, I lower my arm. Farron’s right. My former vizier can rot in a cell for the rest of eternity for all I care.