THIRTY-FOUR

IRINA STOOD ON her balcony, her hands gripping the gold box containing Kol’s heart while the capital shimmered before her in the pale moonlight. Below her, spread across the grass outside the dungeon’s entrance, were the remains of today’s failed attempt to take the years from someone else’s heart and give them to her own. The pile of bodies included peasants from the south, gentry from the capital, a merchant from Súndraille who’d failed to pay his import tax, and even a member of the nobility from the western kingdom of Akram, who hadn’t technically broken any laws but who had been necessary to prove Irina’s theory before she dared to put the Eldrian boy’s heart inside her chest.

Every time she tried taking the essence of a foreign heart, her body reacted as though she’d ingested poison. She’d come to believe that her magic, born and bred on Morcant soil with Morcantian blood running through her veins, would not accept the heart of anyone who did not also have Morcantian blood.

Every spell she used to fight Lorelai weakened her. Every failure to stop the princess’s onslaught sent bands of pain around her chest until the very act of breathing was torture. She needed to repair her heart, and there were no prisoners from Morcant in her dungeon. For all she knew, besides Lorelai, there were no other Morcantians within Ravenspire’s borders.

Except one.

She had yet to decide if she could bear to sacrifice that one, even to keep the life she deserved.

The door to her sitting room clicked open, and Viktor’s familiar steps moved across her floor. She turned to find him standing behind her holding a tray with soup and bread, his expression gentle.

“It’s been a hard week for you,” he said as he set the tray on a side table, beckoned her inside the room, and closed the balcony door behind her. His gaze fell on the gold box clutched in her hand, and slowly the gentleness in his face hardened into something like pain. “What are you doing with that?”

She looked at the box. “I need a new heart.”

He frowned. “The boy will come through for you. He’ll bring you Lorelai’s heart, and this will all be—”

“He won’t. He defies me. He’s with the princess now, allied with her while she uses her magic to combat mine.” She looked at Viktor and for once let him see the fear that ate at her night and day. “Lorelai is stronger than me. She’s coming back to finish what she started.” Her eyes stung. “I’m going to die, Viktor. Either because Lorelai will kill me, or because my own heart will give out.”

As if to prove her point, her heart gave a sudden leap and pain spread along her collarbone to reside in her jaw. She set the box down with a sharp click and clutched at her chest. Viktor was at her side in seconds.

“Sit.” He half dragged, half carried her into the nearest chair and kept his arms wrapped around her. His voice was heavy with worry. “You can get better. I know you can. Just stop doing magic for a while. Let yourself regain your strength—”

“I won’t regain my strength.” She caught his hand in hers and held it as her magic tingled in her palm, waiting to exert itself over his willing heart. “Not without help.”

“I’ll help you.” He crouched beside her, his blue eyes earnest.

“I know a spell that will take the remaining years from another’s heart and give them to mine. I’ve tried it over and over again on our prisoners, but it just makes me weaker. My magic refuses to accept a heart from Ravenspire.”

“Maybe it isn’t where they’re born. Maybe you need nobility—”

“I’ve tried. Ravenspire nobility. Akram nobility. Gentry from my kingdom and others.” She picked up the gold box again and cradled it as the boy’s heart thumped steadily inside. “The only hearts I haven’t tried are those from Eldr or Morcant.”

She kept her eyes on the box as she waited for Viktor to understand what she already knew.

Viktor took her hands in his, box and all. “It’s one thing to punish your prisoners. It’s another to take more from the king of Eldr than he’s promised you.”

She tightened her hold on the box and met his gaze. “I told you. I’m dying.”

“Then walk away from this.” His eyes begged her to listen. “We’ll go to Súndraille. I hear there’s a fae in exile there who can perform miracles for the right price. We could get your heart cured and buy a ship. Sail the seas and find an island—”

“I’m not leaving.” She pulled her hands from his and raised the box so that it glittered in the candles that lit her room. “I’ve fought too hard for this. Ravenspire is my kingdom, and I will not give it up. I’m going to try replenishing my heart with the Eldrian’s,” she said, and half believed it was true. She could try. Maybe this time it would work.

Or maybe Viktor, always dependable Viktor, would come up with a different solution so that she didn’t have to suggest it—didn’t have to even truly consider it—herself.

He held her gaze for a long moment, a myriad of emotions crossing his face, and then he said with quiet force, “No.”

She stared at him. “What did you say to me?”

She’d expected agreement or a logical suggestion that would solve everything. Not resistance. Not from him.

He clenched his jaw, and his eyes seemed to be begging her for something. “I said no, Irina. You cannot ruin that boy’s life any more than you already have. And if his heart proves as poisonous to yours as all the rest, you could die.”

“I will do as I please. And when I’m finished, you and I will have a discussion about your proper place—”

“We will have that discussion now.” Something wild entered his eyes. “In fact, we will discuss everything we’ve been leaving unspoken for years. Starting with the fact that you never loved King Arlen, that you might love me, and that even though I desperately want you to be safe and happy, I can’t go along with this plan of yours.”

“Not now, Viktor.” She pushed a hand against his chest, but he refused to give ground.

“Yes, now.” He ignored the icy glare she sent his way and leaned forward until she was pressed between his chest and the back of the chair. “I’ve devoted my entire life to you. I’ve given you my time, my energy, and my heart.”

“I didn’t ask for your heart.”

“No, but you took it anyway. You take, Irina, from the land, from the people, from me. And because I understand why, I’ve held my tongue. I’ve swallowed my words and my pride, knowing it was the price I had to pay to stay by your side. I understand you.” His voice gentled, and the pain inside it ripped at something Irina refused to let him see. “Unloved by those who were supposed to love you most. Passed over for the marriage and the throne that should’ve been yours. And then, when you did marry Arlen, he’d barely look at you, his children wouldn’t trust you, and the gentry treated you like an interloper instead of like their queen. The wounds run deep—”

“I’m not wounded.” Magic sped down her arms and gathered in her hands, looking for a target.

“You are. And the wounds others caused you are nothing compared to what you’re doing to yourself. Irina, you don’t have to destroy this boy and yourself to get to Lorelai. You don’t have to keep everyone too terrified of you to dare lift a finger against you.” He raised a hand and laid it softly against her cheek. “You don’t need magic to be loved. You have everything you need to be a beloved queen—a beloved woman—right here.” His hand dropped to press against her heart.

“Viktor . . .”

“I love you, Irina. Not because you wield magic. Not because you’re the queen. In fact, I love you despite those things.” He dropped to his knees and gathered her hands in his. “I love you, and I’m asking you to stop this. Please.”

She tore her gaze from his and stared at the box that held her hope. For a moment, she tried to imagine a life outside Ravenspire. Alone with Viktor on a ship, searching for an island to call their own. But if she did that, her father would win. Milek would win.

Tatiyana, with her treachery, would win.

They would have everything, and Irina would be condemned to wander with no title, no kingdom, and no power to call her own.

She pulled her hands from Viktor’s.

“Irina, please.”

“I’m not leaving.” She blinked tears from her eyes and pushed him away so she could stand. “I’m going to strengthen my heart, and then I’m going to finish what Lorelai started nine years ago. I’m going to keep what is rightfully mine.”

“How can you be sure the spell even works? Maybe the hearts haven’t been the problem. Maybe it’s—”

“It worked on my father.” She refused to look at him. “It works on a Morcantian heart. I just have to hope it also works on a heart from Eldr.”

He slowly rose to his feet. “Do you love me?”

She stopped, her hand hovering over the box, as the question burned within her.

Did she love him? What would it cost her if she did?

He moved to her side, and repeated, “Do you love me?”

Slowly, she looked at him. At his pretty face, his rumpled cravat, and his blue eyes pleading with her to simply tell him the truth.

“Yes,” she said softly before turning back to the box. “But I can’t be happy with you if I don’t defeat Lorelai and remain on Ravenspire’s throne, and the only way I can do that is by replenishing the strength in my heart.”

“And that will heal you? It will keep you alive so that you can defeat Lorelai, remain on the throne, and finally be happy?” The grief in Viktor’s voice pulled at Irina.

She met his gaze and something shuddered inside her at what she found there. He knew the solution she’d been too afraid to put into words. “Yes. This will fix everything, and I will finally be at peace. I’ll finally be happy.”

She reached for the box, but he took her hand and pulled her against himself instead. Before she could speak, he covered her mouth with his. His kiss was wild—his lips claiming her, his teeth grazing her skin with a tiny bite of pain.

When he raised his head, he took the hand that had hovered over the gold box and placed it on his chest instead. “I meant it when I said I would not allow you to ruin that innocent boy’s life. If you really need to take the remaining years from a heart, if that is what will truly bring you peace, then you can have mine. But you cannot have his.”

She trembled as she stared at him. As the heart inside the gold box beat strongly while Irina’s heart stuttered and ached.

She’d told him the truth. She wasn’t leaving Ravenspire. Not after all she’d sacrificed to make it hers.

One more sacrifice, and then she’d be ready. She’d be powerful. She’d be unstoppable.

Ja`dat,” she whispered, and the power burned in her hands. “Take what is his and give it to me instead.”

“Irina, stop.” Viktor sounded desperate. “Please.”

Ignoring him, she raised her hand and let the magic coursing through her give strength to her voice. “Ja`dat! Take what is his and give it to me. Give it to me!”

Her hand, wreathed in brilliant light, slammed against his chest.

His head fell back, and he cried out in agony as her magic pierced his chest and surrounded his heart.

“No,” she cried, but the spell didn’t stop.

Her will was stronger than her foolish heart.

Her will desired Ravenspire.

Her will wanted Lorelai dead.

And so she watched with tears streaming down her face as Viktor’s face aged, his hair grayed, and then he collapsed on the floor, his beautiful blue eyes cloudy and staring at nothing.

Her heart beat strong and fierce inside her chest.

Her magic coursed through her body like an avalanche of power.

Let Lorelai come for her. Let the Eldrian king try to defy her. She would crush them both. It would be Viktor’s legacy.

She bent to straighten his rumpled cravat, allowing one sob to escape her lips as she clung to his chest, and then she dried her tears and walked away.