There was nowhere left to go except up.
The fire plains surrounded the fae of Lenya who’d come to fight, Vondur and Grima forces pushed together to become one. At their backs was the last remaining way into the mountains, little more than a goat path. Most of the fae from the villages hid in those passes, waiting for the fire plains to claim them.
Bronagh once thought she could save them all.
“Magic wielders, don’t break formation,” she yelled. “Next wave!”
Fresh totem wielders stepped to the front, if anyone could be called fresh at this point. She’d lost count of the days they’d spent losing ground, expending every last ounce of energy, of magic.
The store of crystals she’d brought from Iskalt was almost depleted.
Eavha bent over to catch her breath, getting her first break in hours. She looked as they all did: tired, weary, ready to see what they’d refused to recognize.
They’d lost.
“Bron, we should get everyone into the mountains.”
Declan stood at her side, his shoulders wilting in defeat. Yet, his words spoke of what they all wished was possible. “There’s still a chance. We can keep fighting it.”
“It’s over, Deck.”
Bronagh watched them glare at each other before crouching down to where her brother practically collapsed on the ground, his chest heaving.
“It isn’t over until there’s no more breath in our bodies.” Declan was stubborn, and they’d needed that before. But now, Bronagh wasn’t sure what they needed.
Eavha plopped herself on the ground with a weary sigh. “We’ve lost. At least if we escape into the mountains, we can stop fighting long enough to enjoy our final days.”
“No.”
“Declan.”
He knelt beside her. Bronagh felt like an intruder hearing their private moment, but she was too tired to move, too tired to do much of anything.
“I won’t stop trying to save us.” Declan’s jaw clenched.
Eavha looked up into his eyes. “Why? Why can’t you just give in and come with me?”
“Because I love you too much to just let you die.”
Love. It had never been a foreign concept to Bronagh. Her mother and sister, despite their faults, had loved the family. Donal was the most important fae in the world to her. Even their uncle loved them very much, though his actions might not always show it.
But the kind of love she witnessed between the Vondurian princess and the general … there was only one man who’d ever made her feel an inkling of what they had. One man who came into her life such a short time ago, yet she could hardly remember a time without him.
If these fire plains overcame them, she’d never get to tell Veren how she felt. She wouldn’t get to ask him to give up his kingdom to help her put Lenya back together.
There would be no Lenya anymore.
“Bron.” Donal lifted his head. “Eavha is right. We should get into the mountains.”
She shifted her gaze to the sheer cliffs above her head, to the single narrow path winding around to the far side of the mountain. They wouldn’t be able to reach the Grimian caves where her fae awaited word of their success, but if they made it up into the highest passes, it might give them an extra week, maybe two.
Sweat dripped down her back. The heat intensified with each day, each hour. Yesterday, two Vondurian soldiers were killed by steam erupting from the unstable ground.
“Sister.” Donal pushed himself up. “You’re the queen. It’s your decision. Do we keep going until the remaining crystals empty of power?” There was no judgment in his tone, and she knew he’d accept whatever she decided.
She looked from Donal to Eavha and Declan, who were peering at her with more trust than any Vondurian should. Then, there was her uncle, yelling orders to the magic wielders, trying to keep the plains at bay. Her golden warriors, their armor shed in this heat. The Vondurians, who put aside their animosity and obeyed her command.
Something soft nudged her shoulder, and she lifted a hand to find Sheba beside her, the giant cat giving her an understanding look. She should be terrified down at eye level with a beast who could rip her throat out. Instead, it gave her clarity.
The fire plains were a predator like no other. They would give no quarter, had no master. Unlike Sheba, who did little more than intimidate Eavha’s foes, they wanted to destroy.
And they’d get their wish.
“We have to make it into the mountains.” It wouldn’t save them, but they’d have a week, maybe more, to say goodbye to each other, to Lenya.
Donal nodded and took off to talk to their uncle. A few moments later, the command rang out. “If you are not currently wielding a totem, make for the mountains.”
Activity surrounded her, soldiers gathering their few remaining possessions, hurrying to be the first up to those ominous cliffs.
“You two should leave with the first wave.” Declan gestured to Eavha and Bronagh.
Bronagh shook her head. “I stay until my last fae has made it.”
Eavha linked her arm with Bronagh’s, tears streaking down her dusty face. “I’m with her.” Her voice didn’t waver.
Declan rolled his eyes to the roiling red sky, where plumes of smoke and ash rose among the clouds. He muttered something Bronagh only heard parts of, the words “stubborn” and “cursed” reaching her ears.
Sheba growled, and Declan put his hands up in front of his chest. “Eavha, tell Sheba to back down.”
“She has a will of her own. I’m not her boss.” With that, Eavha dragged Bronagh to the line of magic wielders. Her uncle pressed crystals into their hands.
All they had to do was give their fae enough time to get away, then they’d make a run for it.
Magic bloomed in her, weaker than it had been before. “This crystal is almost dead.” She reached out to her uncle. “Can you hand me another?”
He shot her a panicked look. “There are no more.”
If there’d been any last shred of hope, it was gone now. “Well, then, I guess this is it.”
“Your Majesty,” Declan yelled, “look.”
Bronagh peered into the fire plains, seeing only billowing smoke and spewing lava. The air shimmered with heat. Then, it was there. Movement at the farthest point where the plains curved around a row of giant blackened boulders toward the volcano.
“What is that?” Eavha stepped closer, but Declan yanked her back.
A girl walked out into the open, looking like she’d stepped right through the burning heat. Behind her, a line of fae appeared, each directing magic down into the very earth.
“Is that …” Eavha gasped. “It’s Tia.”
Bronagh peered closer, her broken heart melding together with a new hope. “They’ve done it,” she whispered to herself.
The Lenyans who’d started toward the mountains stopped what they were doing, and a cheer rose up.
Tears stung Bronagh’s eyes, drying as they sizzled on her cheeks. They really did it. She caught sight of Keir, of Toby.
And Veren.
A giant grin spread across his face, but he didn’t lose focus on the magic.
The other fae were strangers, but they’d come to save Lenya, to save all their realms.
Shouting erupted among the newcomers, but Bronagh couldn’t hear their words. Fae scrambled backward to where King Lochlan beckoned them. The ground shook, the fire plains moving once again.
“Everyone back!” Bronagh yelled, stumbling away from the wall of heat.
When she regained her footing and searched out the fae on the other side, her eyes caught on Veren still running to the protection of whatever his king offered.
His mouth opened in shock, and if Bronagh had been closer, she knew she’d have heard him scream. That look wasn’t one she’d ever forget. He dodged a geyser of steam, but it wasn’t enough. As the fire plains bounced toward him, he stumbled, reaching for someone to help him.
Tierney sprinted forward, gripping his hand and dragging him to her father, but even from this distance, Bronagh could see.
Veren Rhatigan wasn’t moving.
“No,” she whispered, blinking back tears. Moments ago she’d prepared for the fire plains to steal the lives of everyone in Lenya, but now when there was finally hope … she couldn’t comprehend what was happening.
“Sister.” Donal’s arms came around her, but she hardly noticed he was there.
Veren. She saw the day he’d appeared at court, already a trusted friend of her brother’s. The way he’d embraced Grimian ways and never stopped searching for his missing friends.
Her entire body shook until a voice boomed through the light of dawn. “We need help.” It was Tierney.
Bronagh pulled away from her brother. Despite the fissure straight down the center of her heart, she was the queen, and it was time to save her kingdom.