“We need help.” It was the only thing Tierney knew to do. She couldn’t stop staring at the charred remains of Veren’s body, the bottom half completely black from being caught in the shifting fire plains.
But it wasn’t time to mourn. Not yet. Keir’s crystal had no more magic. As soon as they caught sight of the Lenyans, it brought them a renewed sense of purpose. None were so determined as Veren.
Ducking underneath her father’s heat shield, she knew it couldn’t last much longer as the fire plains grew closer again. Dawn was almost through, and if they didn’t end this now, they might never succeed.
“Aimpliu,” she whispered to herself so she could continue. The Fargelsian spell allowed her voice to carry. “Bronagh, listen to me. There’s not much time. We must break through now or not at all. We need every bit of magic your fae have left, even just the smallest traces in the stones. Dig deep to bring it out. This will take all of us. Channel it into the earth. We’re coming for you.”
She had no way of knowing if Bronagh understood, only that the Lenyans were backed up to the mountains making their final stand.
It would be a final stand for all of them.
“I need Eldurians and Iskaltians at the front, those not too exhausted to give everything they have left.” She issued the commands like she was in charge here. Not her father, not King Keir. And her father didn’t intercede. Instead, he ushered his fae to obey her.
Tierney lined up with them, waiting for her father to drop the remnants of his heat shield. “I know you’re tired,” she said to those around her. “I know Lenya is not your kingdom. We have lost friends over the last days.” Her eyes flicked to Siobhan, who understood what Veren’s loss meant. “But what we have not lost is our resolve.
“We have one more chance to right the wrongs of our ancestors, to become the alliance of kingdoms we were meant to be. Those fae across from us are no different from your neighbors, your friends, and your family. Seek out whatever you have left, let your magic guide you, and become a hero today.”
Her father stepped up beside her, his hands raised. “I’m proud of you, Tia.”
She glanced over her shoulder to where Keir paced, unable to help without his magic. He met her gaze, giving her a nod of thanks.
If the Lenyans had no more power, if they weren’t prepared, all of them were doomed. Yet, she readied herself anyway. Not a single one of her fae, Eldurian or Iskaltian, gave up, gave in. She’d never been more proud.
A smile curved her lips. “Let’s do this.”
Heat rushed in as her father dropped the shield. Her Iskaltian magic weakened, telling her there wasn’t much time left. She dug into her Eldurian side, channeling every bit of energy she could into the ground.
The fire plains seemed to shake and inch back. Tierney stepped forward, gritting her teeth against what felt like flames licking up her arms. “Geyser,” Brea yelled. A handful of Eldurians scrambled out of the way.
Molten lava burped from the ground in front of them, but as soon as the plains receded past it, it hardened. Not much farther now.
It was working. Bronagh had heard her.
After days and days of this, pain and exhaustion wound through her limbs. Her body wilted, but she remained upright. When she stumbled, strong hands caught her from behind.
“Keep going, Tierney,” Keir whispered.
For him, she would. For Lenya. She caught sight of Eavha, totem in her palm, and pushed harder. Beside the Vondurian princess, Declan directed power into the ground. They were both okay. That knowledge gave her a renewed energy.
The fire plains bent and wavered from the Lenyan side, and the magic wielders there advanced. Tierney could almost reach out and touch her friends now. Just one more push.
“For Logan,” she gritted out. “For Veren.” With one final heave of power, the sky cracked in a roaring thunder and rain exploded from the clouds. They stood there in shock for a moment, rain drenching their rapidly cooling skin, a balm to their scorched palms.
Tierney took off running, crossing the remaining feet to launch herself at Bronagh and Eavha, catching them both against her in a hug. Relief breathed new life into her, gave her the will to remain standing.
Keir joined them, sweeping his sister into his arms, tears dancing in his eyes.
Around them, Eldurians, Iskaltians, Vondurians, and Grimians celebrated. Some fell to their knees; others stared up into the sun breaking through the rain clouds.
Tierney opened her mouth, catching drops of water on her parched tongue. Nothing had ever tasted so good.
Keir caught her around the waist, and they fell against each other, holding each other up. He bent to kiss the side of her sweaty face as the rain washed the soot away.
Bronagh backed away from them, turning to walk toward the charred mess of ground that was once the fire plains.
“I have to go after her.” Tierney patted Keir’s chest. “Stay here with Eavha and celebrate.”
She took off after the queen. Bronagh kept going, passing craters that once bubbled with lava, cracks widened by steam breaking free. She didn’t stop until she reached where they’d left Veren’s body, his top half still looking like the arrogant, charming boy Tierney hated and appreciated for most of her life. He’d challenged her, made her see truths she’d wanted to deny.
And when it came down to it, he’d fought to survive right alongside her, for her. Their experiences bonded them, made them—dare she say it—friends.
Bronagh kneeled beside him, a hand on his chest. Tierney approached slowly, her heart aching because a part of her still thought this was entirely her fault.
She lowered herself to the ground beside Bronagh, surprised at how cool it was. Rain gathered in her hair, dripping down her face, but she didn’t shield her eyes. Instead, she looked down into Veren’s face.
“I always thought he was handsome,” she started, emotion clogging her throat. “When I was younger, I fancied myself in love with him.”
Bronagh sniffled. “He told me the story. He hated how he’d used you, felt great shame for it.”
That made Tierney smile. “He changed a lot when he came here.” She brushed sopping hair out of his face. “I think it was your influence.”
Bronagh shook her head. “No, that was all him. He changed me too. Before Veren arrived in Grima, my life had no color. Every part of me was a formal, bland girl who did what she was told. It wasn’t who I wanted to be, but it was who I thought I was allowed to be since I was never supposed to be queen.”
Her chin dropped to her chest. “But then, this warrior walks in, and it … it’s hard to explain. He brought me to life.”
“You were in love with him.” Tierney had suspected as much, but the confirmation speared through her in a jolt of pain.
Bronagh wiped her face before her tears were replaced with rain. “No. I am in love with him. Death does not cause it to cease.”
She thought of Toby, how no news of this victory would soothe his grief. Of Finn and Alona, having lost their only son and heir. Imogen, now an orphan. There was too much loss in this battle, and the only foe had been magic itself. Magic had created the vatlands. It had separated the kingdoms and nearly destroyed them.
Tierney looked down at her hands, now washed clean by the rain. “And it saved them.”
Bronagh’s body shook with tears, and Tierney pulled her into a hug, letting her sink into her.
“Your Majesty,” a small voice said.
Tierney looked up into the young face of Imogen, the girl with nothing left. Like so many others.
Imogen kneeled on the ground next to Bronagh, and the queen tilted into her embrace.
Tierney pushed to her feet, knowing the two of them likely needed each other more than they needed her. She walked back toward the joy that was hard to feel. Even in accomplishment, the costs seemed too high.